Sweet Spot for Victoria (Men of Baseball Book 4) (7 page)

“I love you so much,” he whispers against the back of my neck.

I can’t help it. A tear escapes my eye at his words, the meaning deep—not just superficial words. He loves me,
yes
, but he is trying to find out what is wrong and he is worried.

This is the time.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.

I feel his body stiffen behind me and then he pulls out quickly,
too quickly
. I shake as I turn around to face him.

He’s looking at me in complete disbelief and shock. I bend down and grab his t-shirt from the floor using it as a shield to not only cover my body, but to make me feel less vulnerable at my confession.

Pregnant.

Pregnant —
again
.

Another baby.

I’m going to be a father again.

I thought we were done. Victoria’s been on the pill since we had Junior. She didn’t want more and I only want Vic to be happy.

My schedule is tough to keep with a family. I’m gone for days and then, even when I am home, I spend long hours training. I miss things and I know I’m going to miss more. My career isn’t something I can pick and choose when to show up to. There are no real sick days.

Victoria is staring at me expectantly.

I need to say something.

I should, but I don’t know what to say to her.

Am I ready to do this all over again?

Junior is two, sleeping through the night now. Soon, he’ll be one hundred percent potty trained. I don’t know if I want to do diapers and midnight feedings all over again.

I shake my head. I sound like a fucking asshole. Not like I’m the one awake at all hours of the night. Vic is the one who has to be up feeding the baby; she’s the one who will have to be home with a newborn again and two other toddlers. I don’t know if she can handle it all. She already stresses about being the perfect hands-on parent.

My Chile Pepper is going to have my baby again.

“Victoria, how’d it happen?” I ask.

I regret it immediately. Her eyes narrow at me and I wince.

“You wouldn’t go get fixed, you stubborn, prideful asshole,” she yells. I take a step back, grabbing my boxers from the floor and pulling them up my hips.

“You forget your pills one day, babe?” I ask, sounding even more like an asshole.

It’s like I can’t fucking help myself, the shit is just spewing.

“Fuck off, Los. No,
I didn’t fucking forget
. They aren’t one hundred percent. I can’t believe you’re actually asking me this shit right now,” she mutters as she starts opening and slamming drawers, pulling out her swim suit and hastily putting it on.

“I don’t mean to sound like an ass, Vic, but this isn’t our first rodeo. We were married for almost ten years without even a scare and now, baby number three?”

She blanches and turns around after throwing her long hair into a messy bun. She takes one step toward me and slaps something against my chest. I grab the paper in my hand but don’t look at it. I’m too busy focusing on being an asshole to my wife, apparently.

“I didn’t ask for this, Los. I didn’t skip a pill and I didn’t forget.
Shit fucking happens
. That’s what the doctor says, anyway. I’m going to meet my girls down at the sauna. I can’t be around you right now. I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret and I think you’ve made enough regretful statements for the both of us this evening.”

Without a glance back at me, she walks away, slamming the door behind her.

Once she is out of the room, I walk over to the edge of the bed and sit down. I take the piece of paper in my hand and decide to finally look at it. It’s a sonogram. I’ve held enough of them in my hands to know by the feel of the paper exactly what it is. My eyes scan the grainy paper and then my breath escapes from my lungs.

“
What the fuck?
” I whisper as I blink my eyes, trying to focus, wondering if I’m going crazy or if this shit is real.

Baby A.

Baby B.

Labeled perfectly.

There are two.

Two little babies.

Twins
.

I quickly dress and head downstairs to find my wife. Instead, I am met with the angry gaze of my three best friends and teammates. Jarrod is standing with his legs spread wide and his arms across his massive chest. Jackson has one hand on his hip and the other dangling down, but his black eyes are focused on me and he is
pissed
. Normally hardly ruffled, Pete has both hands on his hips and his legs spread as well.

“Where are you going?” Jarrod’s voice booms. It makes me take a step back; the anger is evident.

“I need to talk to Vic,” I explain, starting to become angry. I shouldn’t have to explain my actions to anybody.

“I think you’ve talked to Victoria enough tonight, don’t you?” Jackson asks, his voice low, rough, and frankly fucking terrifying.

“She’s my wife. I’ll talk to her when and where I want to.” I puff out my chest and plant my feet, annoyed at my so called friends.

“No way, man. She’s pregnant and seriously upset. I can’t let you upset her further,” Pete says. His voice is calm, but the storm in his eyes is raging and they are aimed at me.

“When’d she tell you?” I ask, confused how they already know.

“About five minutes ago, after we witnessed her barreling through here sobbing.
The fuck man
?” Jarrod asks, his voice lower but no less lethal.

“She shocked the shit out of me, okay? I reacted badly. I knew something was up but I thought she had cancer or was sick or something. I didn’t expect her to be knocked up again,” I confess. Jarrod jerks back as if I’d hit him.

Shocked as fuck doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now. I am looking at a guy I consider my best friend and beyond that, part of my family. He seems to be actually
disappointed
his wife isn’t sick.

Maybe I am reading too much into it, but if Amalie was pregnant again, I wouldn’t be upset, shocked, or pissed. I would fuckin’ shout from the rooftops. I also wouldn’t let her run out of our room crying. I’d be too busy fucking her until she couldn’t walk again.

We aren’t kids anymore. Babies shouldn’t be a burden, and they shouldn’t be a bad surprise. We all have money and we’re all adults here. Babies are a blessing and should be celebrated. I’m pissed as fuck at Carlos right now. Maybe I’m being a dick, but no way in fuck am I going to allow him to upset Victoria any more than he already has. She’s the mother of his children— all of them—she should never cry because of something he’s said to her.
Ever
.

“Twins, man. She’s pregnant with twins. How do you expect me to react to that shit?”

“Not by being pissed off is a good start. I don’t give a fuck if you’re shocked. I don’t give a fuck if you’re pissed. You lock that shit up and you take care of your woman,” I bark.

Carlos has the good sense to look ashamed.

“I was surprised. I wasn’t prepared. I acted like a fucking dick,” he admits.

If I didn’t know what a good guy he was and how much he truly did love his wife, I might take this moment to beat the hell out of him. I hold onto my shit,
barely
, and just look at the idiot himself.

“What the fuck am I going to do? Vic can’t handle twins. She can barely get through the day with the two we have.” Carlos yanks on his hair and we all just look at him. He’s freaking the fuck out.

“Does this change how you feel about her? Does this change how much you love her?” I ask, lifting a brow in question.

“Never. I have loved Victoria since she was fourteen years old. Nothing she does could make me
not
love her. She’s mine, without her I’m not whole.”

“You need a beer and to get your shit together, man,” Pete says, turning and heading toward the bar. We all follow.

I need a fuckin’ beer too.
Damn
, who knew that finding Amalie would turn me into a big emotional pussy?

I grin. Fuckin’ love my pussy.

I sit down at the bar with my boys surrounding me.
Jarrod is right.
I shouldn’t be pissed off that Vic is pregnant again. I should be rejoicing that God has blessed us. We have a stable marriage, we’re financially well off, and my parents live in the city for support—not to mention these men around me. They’d do anything for us.

I overreacted—
badly
.

Jackson slides a beer over to me with a grunt and I sigh.

These men, they love me, but the protectiveness they feel for the women in our lives reassures me that they have my Vic’s back. Even if they need to protect her from me, they’ll do it.

“I fucked up,” I admit after taking a pull from the cold beer.

“Yeah, you did,” Pete remarks. I turn to him, narrowing my eyes. He’s the biggest fuck up of us all.

“But Vic loves you and she’ll forgive you…
eventually
,” he says with a shrug, taking a pull from his own beer.

Eventually.

The word hangs in the air and as the conversation switches to something else, I can’t seem to get that word out of my mind.

Eventually.

Victoria can hold a grudge—a mean fucking grudge. We’ve been together for over sixteen years and she’s never truly directed her anger at me, but I have a feeling I’m about to get an overload of it. I deserve every fucking angry look and word, too.