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“To go out there and announce to the world that you actually are knocked up?” Nixon asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You mean, would the over-possessive, obsessed caveman who loves you really go announce to the world that you are carrying his baby?” Ember’s tone was dry.
“Yup.” Nixon let the P on the end pop. “I think it’s a damn good bet that he’s lost all sense of reason and is really going to tell them about the pregnancy when he never used to share anything private with the media. He kept his interviews to football until he met you.”
“And you just let him go out there?” I shrieked, racing after Prentice.
Nixon hurried to catch up to me, placing his hand on my lower back as though he thought being pregnant meant I wasn’t capable of walking by myself. I had a feeling I was going to be dealing with this kind of behavior from him and Prentice a lot over the next nine months. But that was a problem for another day. Right now, I had a different crisis on my hands.
When I walked through the front door, Prentice was already marching toward the front gate, where the paparazzi were camped out. I wasn’t quick enough to stop him from announcing, “We’re pregnant!”
He sounded as though he’d just won another Super Bowl ring or something, pumping his fist in the air in a gesture of triumph.
“That wasn’t subtle at all,” Nixon drawled as I collapsed against his side in a fit of giggles.
“Told you,” Ember added smugly from right behind us. “And I don’t think he’s done,” she added, pointing in the direction of my man.
She was right. Announcing my pregnancy wasn’t enough for Prentice. He glared at each and every one of the paparazzi. Planting his fists on his hips, he added, “And for your information, not that you deserve answers after the bullshit you’ve pulled, my fiancée is pregnant because I trapped her. That’s right, folks. You got it backward. I was never going to let Naomi go. I’ve been a quarterback for a long time, as you all know. I’ve taken a fuck ton of hits. Not a single one of them compare to how my gorgeous fiancée knocked me off my feet. She sacked me good, guys. And I’m never gonna recover. Don’t even want to try.”
With that, he swiveled on his heel and started to march back up the driveway. When his gaze hit me, a wide grin split his handsome face. If I’d had any doubts over how he felt about my pregnancy, the past few minutes would have wiped them away. He was as thrilled as I was to get a jump start on the big family we both wanted.
13
PRENTICE
Tucker reached out two nights later. It was after one in the morning, and Naomi was asleep on my chest, so I almost didn’t answer my phone. But I glanced at the screen and recognized the number.
Picking up, I whispered, “Just a second,” then I carefully shifted Naomi and slipped out from under her. Grabbing a pair of sweats from my dresser, I pulled them on and hurried down to my office.
“Sorry,” I apologized when I put the phone to my ear again. “Naomi was asleep. She’s pregnant, so I really didn’t want to wake her.”
“I understand,” Tucker replied, sounding genuine. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “You found out who it was?”
“His name is Mark Otis. He’s—”
“I know who he is,” I growled. Apparently, I’d underestimated how bitter he was over losing his job.
“I thought you might. You’d don’t seem like the type to have faceless employees. Another reason I called right away. Oh, and he’s also the source behind the rumors that Naomi trapped you by getting pregnant.”
Rage was burning in my chest, and I barely contained the urge to toss something across the room. “Thank you, Tucker. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I emailed you all of his contact information and the proof of his guilt. Let me know if you need anything in the future. You have my contact info.”
I thanked him again, and we ended our call. My next one was to a few of my teammates, including Nixon. I explained the situation, and they agreed to be at my house in fifteen minutes.
I met them in my garage, and we all piled into my largest SUV. “Thanks for having my back,” I said as I drove down my driveway.
“Always,” replied Hale emphatically. The wide receiver had been in a similar situation with the paparazzi not too long ago.
We arrived at our destination shortly, and my eyes took in the neighborhood with surprise. It was very middle-class suburban. Well-kept homes and lawns, all very normal. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but I reminded myself that some of the most charming people in history had been ruthless serial killers.
I rang the bell consistently until the door was finally jerked open. “What the hell…?”
Mark’s words died out as he clocked the group of big, angry football players on his porch.
