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I eye the raven-haired beauty looking up at me. For a split second all I see is Frankie before I blink the vision away and stare into the green eyes of a dark-haired stranger. “Not interested.” I step out of her grasp and up to the bar. “Another beer.”
I down it in one gulp. “Another.”
“Whoa. Cancel that.” Jonah steps into my side. “Time to go, brother.”
“I want another beer,” I protest, trying to get the bartender’s attention.
Jonah pulls my arm down. “You know as well as I do what you want isn’t going to be found in the bottom of a beer or the pussy of some ring-chaser. What you want and need is back in Lyndale, and as soon as you pull your head out of your ass, I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
“What’s with everyone telling me what I need? Of course she’s what I need, but it’s not enough.I’mnot whatsheneeds.” I let him guide me out of the bar and to his truck.
“Thenbewhat she needs.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Then let her the fuck go.”
THE LAST THREE WEEKS I’VE BEENback to work have gone relatively smoothly. Gabriel has been gone for six weeks, and I’m now twelve weeks pregnant. The end of the first trimester. My doctor swears I should stop puking any day now as the placenta starts to produce the hormones the baby needs instead of relying on my body for them—which means the nausea should dissipate.
Please, God, let it stop.
I’d like to say it’s getting easier to live without Gabriel in my life, but it would be a lie. I’m convinced the hole in my heart will never mend. I’ll need a transplant or the will to ignore the pain with each beat it takes without him by my side. I’m not sure I’d know how to even breathe without the tightness in my chest and the ache in my soul.
One step at a time, one moment, one breath, one day, one broken dream at a time my day passes into weeks, bringing us to two weeks from his big fight.
I know I have to tell him he’s going to be a father, even if he wants nothing to do with our baby. He deserves to know. This is too big of a decision for me to make for him. The burden too large. The stakes too high. The potential heartbreak for him, for me, for our child is immeasurable. I can’t take this decision out of his hands. I know that, and yet I can’t even think how to tell him. A letter? A text? A phone call?
What is the appropriate medium to give him news he’d never hoped to hear?
A future he never intended to have?
A legacy that could break the mold of his past or shatter his future entirely?
Yeah, I don’t know either.
So, I wait.
I’ll defer the decision until after his fight. I can’t be the reason he doesn’t step into the octagon focused and ready to win. My future may have jumped the track, but I won’t purposely impact the course of his. He has tunnel vision when it comes to training for a title match. He’s destined to win, hands down. He’ll be the heavyweight champ. I’d bet my life on it.
On one of my many trips to the restroom, I stop by the private training room to sayhito the guys. I arrived earlier than they did and none of them needed me today, so I focused on catching up on paperwork with the intent of making my presence known at some point. I just finished lunch and figure it’s a good place to check in before starting something new.
I step inside and still when the smell of sweat and dirty socks inundates my nostrils. My stomach flips. I clasp my hand over my mouth when saliva starts to pool.
I cannot get sick,I chant as I scan the room looking for a safe haven from the noxious smell, or maybe backing out of the room before anyone notices I’m here is a better solution.
“Frankie!” Jess calls from the far end of the room with a smile and a wave.
Great, so much for a clean escape.I wave with my free hand, the other one still covering my mouth.
“What’s got you too busy to hang with us today?” Sloan drops his weights and moves closer. “You haven’t worked out with us in ages.”
I shrug and point to my ribs, not trusting my mouth to do anything but puke.
He scowls, eyeing my hand over my mouth. “I thought you were given the okay to start light workouts like the treadmill or light weights.”
Panic rises when I notice all of them have stopped what they’re doing and have moved toward me, nearly in slow motion, their faces full of concern and confusion.
“What’s wrong, Frankie?” Patrick touches my arm. “Why the hand over your mouth?”
