The Goal
Page 66
My gaze strays back to the phone. “Um. Yes.”
She finally cracks a smile. “Okay. So how does this competition of theirs work?”
I sigh. “It’s complicated. Stupidly complicated.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” she says cheerfully.
“There are five, I dunno, categories, I guess. Each one is designed to showcase a necessary parenting skill.” Jesus. I can’t believe I’m even saying this right now. I already had to sit through Logan’s ridiculous explanation. I feel like I’m endorsing the crazy by repeating it.
Sabrina, however, looks fascinated. “What are the categories?”
I scan my brain. “Comforting. Grace under pressure. Solid support system. Um…finances. And…shit, I can’t remember the last one.”
“How is buying a stuffed animal a sign of comfort?”
“Buying? Darlin’, that creature is homemade. They got these sew-your-own-stuffed-animal kits.”
Her jaw drops. “Oh my gosh. That’s…dedication.”
“They’re hockey players. Dedication is in our DNA.”
“How do they know who wins? Do they get awarded points?”
“I’m supposed to pick a winner in each category.” Because my friends hate me, apparently.
“Did they show you copies of their tax returns to determine who wins in the finances department?” she asks dryly.
“Naah. But that one’s a draw because they’ll both be playing for the pros. Same with support system—no way was I going to choose between Hannah and Grace. I like my balls where they are.”
She snickers. “So who wins comforting?”
“Unless Garrett sews something even more nightmare-inducing than that—” I jerk a thumb at my phone, “—I’m pretty sure he’ll win this round.”
“Your friends are fucking weird, Tucker. You know that, right?”
“Well aware of it.” I hesitate for a beat. “Hey, are you working at the post office tomorrow afternoon?”
“No. Why?”
“I was hoping maybe you’d come by the house and help me pack up some stuff. The guys will be there. And Hannah, Grace, maybe Allie. I rented a U-Haul, so everyone’s helping me load the furniture I’m taking with me.” I hurry to add, “Obviously I won’t let you lift anything heavy, but I figure you could help with the light stuff, like clothes. We’re ordering some pizzas, so there’ll be food…” I let the word food hang enticingly, because I know how voracious her appetite has been lately.
But Sabrina’s forehead is creased with reluctance. “Are you sure they won’t mind that I’m there?”
“Of course not. They really want to get to know you. Wellsy was saying the other day how she’s bummed that you never come around.”
“Wellsy?” she says blankly.
“Hannah. Her last name is Wells, so Garrett dubbed her Wellsy.” And all of a sudden I’m troubled that I’ve been with Sabrina since the winter and she hardly knows anything about my closest friends.
“I don’t know, Tuck…”
“Please?” I flash her my best aw-shucks smile. “It’d mean a lot to me.”
“Oh.” Her expression melts like butter in the sun. “Okay. I’ll come.”
*
Sabrina stays true to her word and shows up at my house around two o’clock the following day. When she arrives, she nearly gets sideswiped by the mattress that Logan and Fitzy are hauling out to the moving truck. It’s chaos in here.
I whisk her out of harm’s way and plant a kiss right on her lips. “Hey darlin’. Thanks for coming.”
A blush rises in her cheeks when she realizes that Hannah and Grace are standing directly behind me and had witnessed the kiss. I, on the other hand, don’t care if they witness us banging against the damn wall. Sabrina looks so fucking beautiful in her flower-print blue sundress, with her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. These last couple of months her cheeks have been perpetually rosy, giving credence to that whole pregnancy glow thing.
“Hey,” she says, her tone oddly shy.
I introduce her to the girls. They greet her warmly, and Sabrina quickly warms up to them too. Apparently she already knows Hannah from the diner, and Grace has a cute habit of babbling when she’s nervous, so she’s talking Sabrina’s ear off before the introductions are even over.
“You want something to drink?” I offer, guiding her into the kitchen while Hannah and Grace trail after us.
“No, it’s fine. Just put me to work.”
“We were going to take a break now anyway. Fitzy showed up earlier than planned and he has to leave in an hour, so we’ve already moved all the furniture out of my room. All that’s left is emptying out my closet and drawers.” I nudge her toward a chair. “Sit down. Water okay?”
“Sure.”
As Hannah and Grace join her at the table, I don’t miss the way both their gazes keep darting toward Sabrina’s stomach. She’s clearly pregnant, but not quite watermelon-big yet. Maybe a soccer ball?
Either way, that’s my daughter in there, and every time I think that, pride fills my chest. My daughter. Christ. Life is strange and unpredictable and so freaking awesome.
“How are you feeling?” Hannah is asking Sabrina. “Are you still getting morning sickness?”
“No, that stopped a couple months ago. These days I’m just tired and hungry and need to go to the bathroom every other minute. Oh, and it’s getting harder and harder to see my feet. Which is probably a good thing because I think they’re swollen to twice their size.”
“Aw, that sucks,” Grace says sympathetically. “But at least you get an adorable, chubby-cheeked miracle for all your pain and suffering. That’s a decent tradeoff, right?”
“Ha!” Sabrina grins. “How about I call you at three in the morning when my chubby-cheeked miracle is screaming her lungs out and then you can tell me if it’s a decent tradeoff.”
Hannah snickers. “She’s got you there, Gracie.”
I hand Sabrina a glass of water and then lean against the counter, smiling as the girls continue to joke about all the “wonderful” things Sabrina and I can look forward to—no sleep, diaper changes, colic, teething.
She finally cracks a smile. “Okay. So how does this competition of theirs work?”
I sigh. “It’s complicated. Stupidly complicated.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” she says cheerfully.
“There are five, I dunno, categories, I guess. Each one is designed to showcase a necessary parenting skill.” Jesus. I can’t believe I’m even saying this right now. I already had to sit through Logan’s ridiculous explanation. I feel like I’m endorsing the crazy by repeating it.
Sabrina, however, looks fascinated. “What are the categories?”
I scan my brain. “Comforting. Grace under pressure. Solid support system. Um…finances. And…shit, I can’t remember the last one.”
“How is buying a stuffed animal a sign of comfort?”
“Buying? Darlin’, that creature is homemade. They got these sew-your-own-stuffed-animal kits.”
Her jaw drops. “Oh my gosh. That’s…dedication.”
“They’re hockey players. Dedication is in our DNA.”
“How do they know who wins? Do they get awarded points?”
“I’m supposed to pick a winner in each category.” Because my friends hate me, apparently.
“Did they show you copies of their tax returns to determine who wins in the finances department?” she asks dryly.
“Naah. But that one’s a draw because they’ll both be playing for the pros. Same with support system—no way was I going to choose between Hannah and Grace. I like my balls where they are.”
She snickers. “So who wins comforting?”
“Unless Garrett sews something even more nightmare-inducing than that—” I jerk a thumb at my phone, “—I’m pretty sure he’ll win this round.”
“Your friends are fucking weird, Tucker. You know that, right?”
“Well aware of it.” I hesitate for a beat. “Hey, are you working at the post office tomorrow afternoon?”
“No. Why?”
“I was hoping maybe you’d come by the house and help me pack up some stuff. The guys will be there. And Hannah, Grace, maybe Allie. I rented a U-Haul, so everyone’s helping me load the furniture I’m taking with me.” I hurry to add, “Obviously I won’t let you lift anything heavy, but I figure you could help with the light stuff, like clothes. We’re ordering some pizzas, so there’ll be food…” I let the word food hang enticingly, because I know how voracious her appetite has been lately.
But Sabrina’s forehead is creased with reluctance. “Are you sure they won’t mind that I’m there?”
“Of course not. They really want to get to know you. Wellsy was saying the other day how she’s bummed that you never come around.”
“Wellsy?” she says blankly.
“Hannah. Her last name is Wells, so Garrett dubbed her Wellsy.” And all of a sudden I’m troubled that I’ve been with Sabrina since the winter and she hardly knows anything about my closest friends.
“I don’t know, Tuck…”
“Please?” I flash her my best aw-shucks smile. “It’d mean a lot to me.”
“Oh.” Her expression melts like butter in the sun. “Okay. I’ll come.”
*
Sabrina stays true to her word and shows up at my house around two o’clock the following day. When she arrives, she nearly gets sideswiped by the mattress that Logan and Fitzy are hauling out to the moving truck. It’s chaos in here.
I whisk her out of harm’s way and plant a kiss right on her lips. “Hey darlin’. Thanks for coming.”
A blush rises in her cheeks when she realizes that Hannah and Grace are standing directly behind me and had witnessed the kiss. I, on the other hand, don’t care if they witness us banging against the damn wall. Sabrina looks so fucking beautiful in her flower-print blue sundress, with her dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail. These last couple of months her cheeks have been perpetually rosy, giving credence to that whole pregnancy glow thing.
“Hey,” she says, her tone oddly shy.
I introduce her to the girls. They greet her warmly, and Sabrina quickly warms up to them too. Apparently she already knows Hannah from the diner, and Grace has a cute habit of babbling when she’s nervous, so she’s talking Sabrina’s ear off before the introductions are even over.
“You want something to drink?” I offer, guiding her into the kitchen while Hannah and Grace trail after us.
“No, it’s fine. Just put me to work.”
“We were going to take a break now anyway. Fitzy showed up earlier than planned and he has to leave in an hour, so we’ve already moved all the furniture out of my room. All that’s left is emptying out my closet and drawers.” I nudge her toward a chair. “Sit down. Water okay?”
“Sure.”
As Hannah and Grace join her at the table, I don’t miss the way both their gazes keep darting toward Sabrina’s stomach. She’s clearly pregnant, but not quite watermelon-big yet. Maybe a soccer ball?
Either way, that’s my daughter in there, and every time I think that, pride fills my chest. My daughter. Christ. Life is strange and unpredictable and so freaking awesome.
“How are you feeling?” Hannah is asking Sabrina. “Are you still getting morning sickness?”
“No, that stopped a couple months ago. These days I’m just tired and hungry and need to go to the bathroom every other minute. Oh, and it’s getting harder and harder to see my feet. Which is probably a good thing because I think they’re swollen to twice their size.”
“Aw, that sucks,” Grace says sympathetically. “But at least you get an adorable, chubby-cheeked miracle for all your pain and suffering. That’s a decent tradeoff, right?”
“Ha!” Sabrina grins. “How about I call you at three in the morning when my chubby-cheeked miracle is screaming her lungs out and then you can tell me if it’s a decent tradeoff.”
Hannah snickers. “She’s got you there, Gracie.”
I hand Sabrina a glass of water and then lean against the counter, smiling as the girls continue to joke about all the “wonderful” things Sabrina and I can look forward to—no sleep, diaper changes, colic, teething.
