Page 34 of Playing It Forward

But a boy wouldn’t be bad either. A little boy who resembles Nolan. He’d break all the hearts at school.

What am I thinking? I shouldn’t be having a child at all. What if it goes wrong? What if I lose the baby the way Mom did?

My heart races and my palms begin to sweat. I can’t do it. I can’t go through what Mom did. What if I end up the way she did? Broken and inconsolable. Unwilling to continue a life without my baby.

I place a hand on my stomach as if I can protect the little mermaid.

The doorbell sounds and I gulp. Nolan’s here. My stomach dips, and my pulse hastens. I can’t control my body when the quarterback’s around. Another reason to not get involved.

I inhale a deep breath and order my body to knock it off before walking to the door and opening it.

Nolan smiles. “Hi, sweetheart.” He kisses my cheek before making his way into the house.

“I brought dinner from Wok the Plank. Don’t worry. I checked it’s okay for pregnant women before I ordered. I got you broccoli and beef, but if you don’t want it, I have other selections.”

“You didn’t need to bring dinner.”

“Someone has to take care of you.”

I bristle. “I can take care of myself.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “You were working until ten last night.”

“Working hard doesn’t mean I’m not taking care of myself,” I say, but I’m not certain. Maybe I should work less. Maybe I should cut down on my hours. Maybe working too hard is dangerous for the baby.

“I know but I also know how tiring the first trimester can be.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You know, do you? Knocked up a lot of women, have you?”

“Nope. But I remember when my mom was pregnant with Ruth. She was tired all the time.”

“Do you have a big family?”

He jiggles the bags of food. “I’ll tell you all about them while we eat.” His stomach growls. “Sorry, I’m hungry.”

“Wouldn’t want you to starve,” I mutter as I motion to the dining area.

While he empties the bags on the table, I make my way to the kitchen for plates and silverware. Nolan nudges me out of the way.

“I’ve got it. Go sit down. Rest your feet.”

I purse my lips. “I’m not an invalid.”

He kisses my nose. “Nope. You’re carrying my baby, and I want to spoil you.”

My body warms at his words and attentiveness. It doesn’t mean anything, I remind myself. It doesn’t mean he’ll stay. It doesn’t mean he won’t disappear when the season starts.

“But you don’t know where anything is.”

“Good thing my eyes still work.” He herds me toward the table.

“Fine. I give up.”

He doesn’t have any issues finding the plates and silverware. He sets them on the table before returning to the kitchen for two glasses of water.

“I have three brothers and one sister,” he says once we’re digging into our food.

“Big family.”