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Rob turns the shower on all by himself. This genius plan is working. He sighs. “Neither of you can be godfather because I’m Orthodox now, remember?”
Oh, shit. That’s right. Rob converted for Evie. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not really that different.
“I’ll convert, too,” I blurt. “Catholic is closer than Presbyterian. Ha. I win; you lose, Mitchell.”
Rob steps under the spray without either of us having to push him in. “I know what you two are doing. Thanks. Keep it up.”
Mike and I exchange wide-eyed glances from our spots, propped up on opposite walls of the tiny bathroom.
“I got nothin’,” he whispers under the din of the shower. “What else you got?”
I raise my eyebrows. Mike took one hell of an illegal hit at the beginning of the season. The severe concussion he got has kept him sidelined, but he’s here anyway. This is either going to be great press for our three respective teams, or people in the league are going to start thinking the wrong things about us.
“Are you okay?” I whisper back.
He shrugs, but his eyes tell a different story. It’s not his head that hurts. It’s his heart. Mike is wrapped up in entirely different woman drama than Rob.
“She still won’t read your texts or answer your calls?” I whisper.
He shakes his head and stares at his sneakers. He’s giving up.
Guess I need to help both of these sorry motherfuckers.
“I’ll bet you my entire off-season training bonuses that Rob gets laid again before you do.”
The shower turns off. Rob pulls open the curtain to grab a towel from the rack while glaring at us. He’s dripping with water, but at least it’s not blood. “You understand the wait time to get back to the Holy Land is at least six weeks after birth, right?”
At least he’s not talking about it like it’s never going to happen again. That’s one down, one to go.
I stare at Mitchell. “Hear that? You’ve got six weeks to make it happen. Sack up or lose money.”
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me!” Mike throws his arms out and promptly whacks his hand off the shower stall.
And I thought I was a walking injury risk.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Rob’s voice is muffled while he dries his entire head. He might be trying to suffocate himself, actually. “The big three play ring a bell?”
Mike glances at me with a confused expression. “What the hell is that?”
Rob’s face reappears. He’s still breathing. “Flowers, chocolate, jewelry. Tried any of those yet?”
I bark out a laugh. “Right. This from the guy who tricked his wife into making him a list for how to win her over back in high school. Yeah, buddy. You’re as qualified to hand out relationship advice as Mike is to play therapist.”
Rob grins at me. “I’m married to the woman. She just had my baby. Are either of you boneheads happily married fathers? No? That makes me the expert.”
When you give a quarterback a ball, sometimes he doesn’t hand it off because he wants to run with it.
I let him. This play is working better than I expected.
And hell. I’m sort of—kind of—engaged to a pregnant woman. Maybe he’ll have some good tips for me, too.
“First up,” Rob says as he slips into a fresh pair of sweat pants. “Flowers are a great idea. Tori needs to know you’re still thinking about her even when you’re apart.”
Mike rolls his eyes. He’s not going to take any of this seriously, but he’ll play along for Rob’s sake.
“Maybe actually lay off the calls and texts. That’s too much pressure. She needs some space right now, so you’re gonna be man enough to give it to her.”
