LARK: Oh yeah? How giant.
Finally, I crack a smile. There’s my Birdie.
DAN: As big as a baseball field.
LARK: Pffft that’s not so big.
DAN: Okay, as big as the night sky.
LARK: Wow, that’s big.
DAN: That’s what she said.
LARK: Omg.
DAN: Love you, Birdie.
LARK: Love you too.
This time, when I set my phone down and roll over, my eyes start to droop. And finally, I drift off, visions of Lark lying in the bed beside me replace the worry that’s consumed me all evening.
But sleep is short-lived. When I bolt upright a short while later, the room is still dark. My heart is racing and my breath is coming fast. I feel clammy with sweat, and the sheets are tangled around me.
Fuck, I haven’t had a nightmare since I was a kid, but there’sno denying the unsettling feeling of waking up from one.
Reaching for the glass of water on my bedside table, I chug it down, letting the cool liquid soothe me somewhat. I try to grasp onto the threads of the dream that are fading fast but can’t. All I remember is the terrifying feeling that everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is slipping away from me.
And if I don’t run fast enough, I’ll lose it all.
Chapter thirty-four
Lark
The plane to Arizona is packed with boisterous baseball players. Thankfully, they mostly leave me alone. I guess word of me feeling unwell the last week or so has gotten around. I tuck myself into a window seat and stare out at the clouds, my thoughts flipping between the unbridled joy I feel, knowing I’m carrying a piece of Dan inside of me, and the sheer overwhelm that crashes over me whenever I try to think through how to handle this.
Telling him is only the first hurdle. He’s got to focus on his season, and if this news distracts him to the point he doesn’t perform at his best, I’ll never forgive myself.
Then there’s the sacrifice I’m going to have to make. I’m still struggling to accept the fact that I have to turn down the internship at the university. After all, there’s no chance I can participate in that while caring for a newborn.
The voice of the players sitting behind me breaks through my thoughts. “I heard the rookie’s got his nickname. Princess.” They both laugh at that, and I can’t help but wonder what the new player did to earn that nickname from the pitchers andcatchers already on the ground in Phoenix.
“Sounds like things are good. But Jonesie said Yami’s struggling with his speed, and Monty’s been distracted the last couple of days. Maybe the dream team isn’t gonna happen.”
“Dude, shut up.”
I duck my head, a blush darkening my cheeks. Obviously, one of them knows about my relationship with Dan and realized I could hear them. But being caught unintentionally eavesdropping isn’t what has me biting my thumb from nervousness.
Dan’s been distracted? Why? I know it’s not because of having to leave me at home because the first few days he was away, he sounded confident and happy when he reported training was going well.
But then there was our conversation the day I went to the doctor. He could tell something was up, I know he could. I thought I had reassured him well enough that it could wait until I arrived, but maybe I was wrong.
And if just the idea of big news is enough to distract him, how the hell will he handle the actual news itself?
Oh God.
For the rest of the flight, I’m a nervous wreck. Thank goodness for the medication the doctor gave me, which alleviated my morning sickness symptoms quickly. If I had that on top of the anxious churning in my stomach, I’d be turning the airplane restroom into my new home for the remainder of the flight.
As it is, I pop a peppermint, roll on some lavender essential oil, and close my eyes, trying to find some calm.
