The Goal
Page 67
Truthfully, none of that scares me. If you don’t have to work hard for something, then how can it ever truly be rewarding?
Footsteps approach the kitchen. Garrett wanders in, wiping sweat off his brow. When he notices Sabrina, he brightens. “Oh good. You’re here. Hold on—gotta grab something.”
She turns to me as if to say, Is he talking to me?
He’s already gone, though, his footsteps thumping up the stairs.
At the table, Hannah runs a hand through her hair and gives me a pleading look. “Just remember he’s your best friend, okay?”
That doesn’t sound ominous.
When Garrett returns, he’s holding a notepad and a ballpoint pen, which he sets on the table as he sits across from Sabrina. “Tuck,” he says. “Sit. This is important.”
I’m so baffled right now. Hannah’s resigned expression doesn’t help in lessening the confusion.
Once I’m seated next to Sabrina, Garrett flips open the notepad, all business. “Okay. So let’s go over the names.”
Sabrina raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug, because I legitimately don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.
“I’ve put together a solid list. I really think you’re going to like these.” But when he glances down at the page, his face falls. “Ah crap. We can’t use any of the boy names.”
“Wait.” Sabrina holds up a hand, her brow furrowed. “You’re picking names for our baby?”
He nods, busy flipping the page.
My baby mama gapes at me.
I shrug again.
“Just out of curiosity, what were the boy names?” Grace hedges, clearly fighting a smile.
He cheers up again. “Well, the top contender was Garrett.”
I snicker loud enough to rattle Sabrina’s water glass. “Uh-huh,” I say, playing along. “And what was the runner-up?”
“Graham.”
Hannah sighs.
“But it’s okay. I have some kickass girl names too.” He taps his pen on the pad, meets our eyes, and utters two syllables. “Gigi.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I’m not naming my daughter Gigi.”
Sabrina is mystified. “Why Gigi?” she asks slowly.
Hannah sighs again.
The name suddenly clicks in my head. Oh for fuck’s sake.
“G.G.,” I mutter to Sabrina. “As in Garrett Graham.”
She’s silent for a beat. Then she bursts out laughing, triggering giggles from Grace and eventually Hannah, who keeps shaking her head at her boyfriend.
“What?” Garrett says defensively. “The godfather should have a say in the name. It’s in the rule book.”
“What rule book?” Hannah bursts out. “You make up the rules as you go along!”
“So?”
“Besides, you haven’t been crowned godfather yet,” I point out with a smirk, just as Fitzy and Logan drift into the kitchen. I jerk a thumb toward Logan. “This dumbass is still in the running.”
“Actually…” Garrett beams at us. “Logan’s out of the race.”
I twist in my chair to look at our teammate. “Since when?”
Logan’s expression instantly goes shuttered. “I decided to bow out,” he mutters. “It’s a big responsibility.”
A loud snort sounds from Garrett’s vicinity. “You decided to bow out? Is that what we’re calling it?”
Logan glowers at him. “It’s what we’re calling it because it’s true.”
“Yeah?” Garrett hops to his feet. “Be right back.”
Sabrina and I exchange puzzled glances as he steps out of the kitchen. I hear him moving around in the living room. A moment later he pops back into sight and whips up his hands in front of Logan’s face.
“Then how do you explain this?”
Sabrina yelps in horror.
Me, I’m just really curious to hear why Garrett is holding a tiny newborn doll.
Which is missing its head, by the way.
“You fucking took it home?” Logan sounds outraged.
“Hell yeah I did. What use were they going to have for it there? It doesn’t have a head, bro.”
“Where’s ‘there’?” I ask carefully, though I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“Newborn CPR,” Garrett explains. “We took a course at the campus health center this morning.”
“Newborn CPR?” Sabrina shakes her head, dazed.
“It was the grace under pressure test.” Garrett smiles smugly. “Which he failed. I, of course, passed with flying colors.”
“Is it my fault I don’t know my own strength?” Logan protests.
“Yes!” Garrett says in a spurt of laughter. “That is totally your fault.” He holds up the doll and waves it around tauntingly. “Show me on the doll where your brain is. Oh right, you can’t. Because you fucking decapitated it.”
Sabrina turns to me. “Can we go upstairs and pack now?”
“You guys are scaring Sabrina,” Hannah grumbles at the bickering idiots. “Babe, put that doll away. And Logan, remind me to never let you babysit my future children.” With that, she refocuses her attention on Sabrina. “Okay, assuming we’re putting a pin in Gigi, what other names are you thinking about?”
Sabrina and I exchange another look. “We haven’t even discussed it,” she admits.
“Are there any names you like in general?”
Sabrina ponders it. “I like the name Charlotte.”
“Oh, I love that!” Grace exclaims. “Charlotte Tucker. It has a nice ring to it.”
“Charlotte James,” Sabrina corrects.
I glare at her. “Her last name is going to be Tucker.”
“No it’s not. It’s going to be James.”
“What about Tucker-James?” Fitzy calls out as he grabs a beer from the fridge.
“No,” we say in unison. Not because we’re against hyphens, but because we’re both stubborn jerks.
I didn’t realize I felt so strongly about my daughter having my last name, but I do. Hell, if it was up to me, Sabrina would have my last name too. But that would require us getting married, which would require me to propose, and I’m pretty sure she’d flee to another continent if I did that. We might be sleeping together again, but I can tell she’s still fighting the idea that we’re in an actual relationship.
Footsteps approach the kitchen. Garrett wanders in, wiping sweat off his brow. When he notices Sabrina, he brightens. “Oh good. You’re here. Hold on—gotta grab something.”
She turns to me as if to say, Is he talking to me?
He’s already gone, though, his footsteps thumping up the stairs.
At the table, Hannah runs a hand through her hair and gives me a pleading look. “Just remember he’s your best friend, okay?”
That doesn’t sound ominous.
When Garrett returns, he’s holding a notepad and a ballpoint pen, which he sets on the table as he sits across from Sabrina. “Tuck,” he says. “Sit. This is important.”
I’m so baffled right now. Hannah’s resigned expression doesn’t help in lessening the confusion.
Once I’m seated next to Sabrina, Garrett flips open the notepad, all business. “Okay. So let’s go over the names.”
Sabrina raises an eyebrow at me.
I shrug, because I legitimately don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.
“I’ve put together a solid list. I really think you’re going to like these.” But when he glances down at the page, his face falls. “Ah crap. We can’t use any of the boy names.”
“Wait.” Sabrina holds up a hand, her brow furrowed. “You’re picking names for our baby?”
He nods, busy flipping the page.
My baby mama gapes at me.
I shrug again.
“Just out of curiosity, what were the boy names?” Grace hedges, clearly fighting a smile.
He cheers up again. “Well, the top contender was Garrett.”
I snicker loud enough to rattle Sabrina’s water glass. “Uh-huh,” I say, playing along. “And what was the runner-up?”
“Graham.”
Hannah sighs.
“But it’s okay. I have some kickass girl names too.” He taps his pen on the pad, meets our eyes, and utters two syllables. “Gigi.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I’m not naming my daughter Gigi.”
Sabrina is mystified. “Why Gigi?” she asks slowly.
Hannah sighs again.
The name suddenly clicks in my head. Oh for fuck’s sake.
“G.G.,” I mutter to Sabrina. “As in Garrett Graham.”
She’s silent for a beat. Then she bursts out laughing, triggering giggles from Grace and eventually Hannah, who keeps shaking her head at her boyfriend.
“What?” Garrett says defensively. “The godfather should have a say in the name. It’s in the rule book.”
“What rule book?” Hannah bursts out. “You make up the rules as you go along!”
“So?”
“Besides, you haven’t been crowned godfather yet,” I point out with a smirk, just as Fitzy and Logan drift into the kitchen. I jerk a thumb toward Logan. “This dumbass is still in the running.”
“Actually…” Garrett beams at us. “Logan’s out of the race.”
I twist in my chair to look at our teammate. “Since when?”
Logan’s expression instantly goes shuttered. “I decided to bow out,” he mutters. “It’s a big responsibility.”
A loud snort sounds from Garrett’s vicinity. “You decided to bow out? Is that what we’re calling it?”
Logan glowers at him. “It’s what we’re calling it because it’s true.”
“Yeah?” Garrett hops to his feet. “Be right back.”
Sabrina and I exchange puzzled glances as he steps out of the kitchen. I hear him moving around in the living room. A moment later he pops back into sight and whips up his hands in front of Logan’s face.
“Then how do you explain this?”
Sabrina yelps in horror.
Me, I’m just really curious to hear why Garrett is holding a tiny newborn doll.
Which is missing its head, by the way.
“You fucking took it home?” Logan sounds outraged.
“Hell yeah I did. What use were they going to have for it there? It doesn’t have a head, bro.”
“Where’s ‘there’?” I ask carefully, though I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“Newborn CPR,” Garrett explains. “We took a course at the campus health center this morning.”
“Newborn CPR?” Sabrina shakes her head, dazed.
“It was the grace under pressure test.” Garrett smiles smugly. “Which he failed. I, of course, passed with flying colors.”
“Is it my fault I don’t know my own strength?” Logan protests.
“Yes!” Garrett says in a spurt of laughter. “That is totally your fault.” He holds up the doll and waves it around tauntingly. “Show me on the doll where your brain is. Oh right, you can’t. Because you fucking decapitated it.”
Sabrina turns to me. “Can we go upstairs and pack now?”
“You guys are scaring Sabrina,” Hannah grumbles at the bickering idiots. “Babe, put that doll away. And Logan, remind me to never let you babysit my future children.” With that, she refocuses her attention on Sabrina. “Okay, assuming we’re putting a pin in Gigi, what other names are you thinking about?”
Sabrina and I exchange another look. “We haven’t even discussed it,” she admits.
“Are there any names you like in general?”
Sabrina ponders it. “I like the name Charlotte.”
“Oh, I love that!” Grace exclaims. “Charlotte Tucker. It has a nice ring to it.”
“Charlotte James,” Sabrina corrects.
I glare at her. “Her last name is going to be Tucker.”
“No it’s not. It’s going to be James.”
“What about Tucker-James?” Fitzy calls out as he grabs a beer from the fridge.
“No,” we say in unison. Not because we’re against hyphens, but because we’re both stubborn jerks.
I didn’t realize I felt so strongly about my daughter having my last name, but I do. Hell, if it was up to me, Sabrina would have my last name too. But that would require us getting married, which would require me to propose, and I’m pretty sure she’d flee to another continent if I did that. We might be sleeping together again, but I can tell she’s still fighting the idea that we’re in an actual relationship.
