Page 132 of Taking Sides

“Yeah.” Relief settles in slowly. “I am.”

If half a dozen pregnancy tests can be believed.

“I don’t know what to say.” He sweeps me up off my feet and spins me around.

The action catches me off guard, and I cling to him through a strained laugh and a squeal of disbelief.

He sets me back on the ground, but his arms remain around my waist. “Sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. I’m fine.” I look for any sign that he isn’t as happy as he’s acting. “You don’t look freaked out.”

“Not at all.”

“Did you hear the part where I said I was pregnant with your baby?” Maybe if I keep repeating it, it’ll sink in for him.

“Yeah, baby. I did.”

“But we didn’t plan this. I’m not even sure how it’s possible. We haven’t been together that long.” There are a lot of really good reasons for him to be upset right now. “If you were panicking right now, I’d totally understand.

“All I feel is happy,” he says. His hands glide around to my stomach. “Fuck, I should have brought D-Low with me.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m in. Let’s have a baby, baby.”

“When was the first day of your last period?” the nurse asks. She’s a young girl with dimples and a kind smile.

I rattle off the date. I came prepared with all the information Google said I might need for my first doctor’s appointment. Conrad stands next to me squeezing my hand so tightly, I have to wiggle my fingers to remind him to loosen his grip.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Okay. That puts your due date as August twelfth.” Her dimples deepen as she smiles at us.

“How is that calculated?” Conrad asks. He may be quiet and reserved in other areas, but he is not when it has anything to do with our baby. At check-in, he told all three receptionists that we were having a baby like they couldn’t see why we were here from my appointment notes. But because he’s him, they aww-ed and smiled and congratulated us.

The nurse gives him that same charmed smile. “It’s an estimation. Since knowing conception date is harder to pinpoint, we use forty weeks from your last period.”

“Oh. I know the conception date,” I say.

“You do?” Conrad asks.

“I think so.” My face flushes as I give the nurse the new date, then glance at Conrad.

“The first time?” His brows lift.

I nod. Based on my period and everything I could find on ovulation and when we had sex, it’s the only one that makes sense. They should really teach this stuff in school, or I should have paid better attention.

“Okay, that makes your due date July twenty-nine,” the nurse says.

Conrad repeats it with a doe-eyed look and squeezes my hand again.

“Before the season starts,” I tell him.

“We’re going to have a baby next season,” he repeats. Finally, a little of that shock I keep expecting from him flashes across his face, but no sooner than it registers, he’s grinning again.

THIRTY-FIVE

“Congratulations.” Galaxy is the first to skate over to me and pull me into a hug. He slaps me on the back twice.