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Wren blinked in surprise. After a moment, she turned and laid flat on her back. “I… I don’t know. I guess I always thought it would happen, but I’ve never been one of those women that was just born to be a mom, you know?”
I got that. There were some guys I’d played with over the years who loved being fathers—Theo being one of them. But I didn’t think I was one of them. Kids were cool, but my shining example of parenthood had been a dad living vicariously through his son when his own career ended. And my mom had been okay with shipping me across the country to live with a family because that school district had a football team that had a constant cycle of scouts circling the roster.
Was it worth it?
I made it to the pros, but was that all I had to offer the world? Was I built to catch a ball, run fast, and not much more?
I didn’t know jack shit about raising a kid, but I knew you shouldn’t treat them as a means to an end.
“What about you?” Wren asked.
Ocean waves crashed around us, keeping my silence from edging into awkward territory. “It’s never been high on my list of priorities.”
“That’s good.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s good that you know that about yourself. Kids should be a priority if you’re going to have them,” Wren said, sitting up and stretching her long, tanned limbs. “So, if they’re not, then having them shouldn’t be a flippant decision just because it’s expected of you.” She tucked her feet beneath her and laid her head on my shoulder. “My mom was the best. She was one of those moms that was meant to be a mom. You know? She was the cookie baking, PTA meeting, sleepover hosting type. She’d stay up all night gluing rhinestones onto my costumes for dance competitions and recitals. She’d sit in the front row and mime every single move to my routines. She was the loudest cheering me on when I won, and she’d let me cry and tell me it was all bullshit when I lost.” Wren laughed. “I guess that’s how I knew that kids weren’t a priority for me either. Putting your life on hold for decades? That takes a special kind of selflessness. It took me a while to see that not everyone is cut out for it.” Her fingers threaded into mine, and she traced one of my tattoos with her finger. “Preston wanted us to have the quintessential two-and-a-half kids, white picket fence, and dog named Spot. Married men with trophy wives and trophy kids poll better. But kids shouldn’t be used as pawns.”
That hit me like a whole team of linebackers. “Yeah,” I rasped.
“I don’t know if kids are in my future. Our future.” Wren kissed the center of my chest. “But if they are, they will be loved unconditionally. Not because they can dance, arrange furniture, or throw a ball. Very little of the good we put into the world comes from what we do to fill our paychecks.”
