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“I figured you wouldn’t want to go out.” He opens my door, and he tips the guy standing there.
His eyes slowly widen when he notices who handed him the money. “Damon Siska?”
The delivery guy pats his pockets. With a lot of effort, I stand and grab a notepad and a pen from the table near my door and hand them to Damon.
“I’m only going to sign this if you don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Damon says to the guy who incessantly nods. Damon scribbles his signature and number on the piece of paper and hands it over.
The man thanks him and walks down the steps.
I step out to grab some of the bags of groceries when I hear the flutter of a camera lens. I glance to my left and see it’s my elderly neighbor. “Mrs. Turnberry?”
“Sorry, darling, but my bridge club didn’t believe me when I messaged them last night that Damon Siska just walked into my neighbor’s house.”
“Do they have a problem with how big I am too? How about my nose? Or my lips? Or my hair? Is my forehead too small or too big? There’s a poll going on right now. Maybe they’d like to cast a vote.”
She brings her camera down with a frown. “You’re gorgeous, and they think so too. They’re just avid football fans.”
I huff out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”
Damon steps out and smiles at my elderly neighbor. “Are people bothering you?” he asks her.
Her mouth falls open. I guess there are times I forget how well-known he is. “Do you play bridge?”
He takes a quick, confused glance at me before he answers. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Rummy?”
“That’s for amateurs.” Mrs. Turnberry waves him off. “Well, I have to go show these off to my friends, especially Pearl. She flat-out told everyone I was lying, questioning why Damon Siska was in our small town.” She winks. “Because of our stunning Adeline Morgan, that’s why.”
I can’t fight my smile. After being pummeled like that mole game at arcades, my self-confidence has taken a beating. “Thanks. Mrs. Turnberry.”
Then she gets a fierce expression. “And I’ll take care of anyone if they come snooping around. I have no problem being the crazy old neighbor with a broomstick.” She smiles one last time and walks back into her house.
“Interesting neighbor,” Damon says, waiting for me to go inside first.
We put away the groceries together, him mostly unpacking since he doesn’t know where anything goes and me placing them in the cupboards. When I come across a lot of what must be ingredients for a dish, I pick up two bulbs of garlic and turn to him. “What are these for?”
“I’m going to make you dinner tonight.” He smiles, and it gives me this fluttery feeling in my chest.
“Damon.” I shake my head. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m not going to harm myself over some virtual bullies.”
He hands me the yogurt I eat every morning. Someone was snooping. “I want to. I just want to make sure no one bothers you and the baby.” His eyes are imploring me to let him do this for me.
“Okay.”
He’s being a gentleman, but I’m sure it’s out of guilt. I’m not the first woman to get knocked up by a professional athlete. I doubt I’ll wake up to the paparazzi outside my house.
We spend the day watching television and playing rummy, then Damon insists I take a long bath while he makes dinner.
When I’m finished, I call down from the top of the stairs, still in my robe, “It going okay down there?”
“Perfect. I’ve done this a thousand times. Wear something comfy. Siska Bistro isn’t strict on dress code.”
I smile and head to my room, where I lotion my belly and the rest of my body to hopefully keep stretch marks at bay. I’ve already noticed a few on my stomach as it gets bigger. I put on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt that reads, “I’ll be a lot more fun when I can drink again.”
Just as I head downstairs, the doorbell rings. Damon rushes out of the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder, looking every bit the part of a domesticated man. It makes my insides purr.
“I’ll get it,” I say, closer to the front of the house.
I open the door, and there’s a man with two suitcases. “Evening, I’m looking for Damon Siska?”
