Catching to Win (Over the Fence #3) (18 page)

He’s silent for a moment, but then Jackson tilts his head back and laughs like a hyena. “Of course you are.”

We laugh some more until the moment dies out and we’re just kind of awkwardly staring at each other.

“Listen, Kels. I know you may never feel comfortable enough to call me dad or think of me as family. But…I’d really like to try. As you know, I don’t really have anyone. I’ve waited half my life to tell you just what you mean to me, and I’d love the opportunity to get to know you. As my daughter.”

My heart swells to epic proportions. Ever since I’d come home from Africa, I’d believed I would never have anyone who mattered in my life. And look at this little hippie nomad now. I have a boyfriend, a baby and a father all within six months. Life really couldn’t get much better. Except, I also had a preserve that was all my own. And all of the exotic animals I could ever want. So yeah, life really couldn’t get any better.

“I would love to try too.”

W
hat no one
tells you about the real world is that time moves fucking fast.

After accepting an offer from Healthy Kids, Healthy Lives, a non-profit half an hour from the preserve, Kelsey and I bought a decent sized townhouse. We’d spent weekends scouring furniture stores for just the right mix of modern — my style — and hippie chic, obviously her style.

Madeline and Hugo ceded control of the Virginia preserve to Kelsey, and she’d kept Jackson on as her partner. They’d renamed it The Nole Wildlife Preserve. Even though she acted tough, Kelsey had crumbled at the mention of having a real father. She and Jackson were as close as any father and daughter could be, and driving all of their staff crazy with their ridiculous antics and pranks.

And as for my job…I’ve found what I’m supposed to do with my life. The little guys I work with on a daily basis have always been told they’re not good enough, too big, too slow, too whatever. They’ve been beaten down, made to feel useless. Kind of like I had been.

I get to watch their faces light up as we play sports, each child having their own turn to excel. I get to watch as specialists come in and tailor their food to be healthy and satisfying. I get to watch them start to feel more confident in their bodies. It is the most rewarding thing I have ever done, and I love my girlfriend even more for stripping just so I could figure out my dream. She sacrifices so much for the team.

Speaking of that girlfriend title, don’t think I haven’t tried to change that. I bought her the most expensive ring I could afford and got down on one knee. You know what that little brat said to me?

“Ew, babe. I’m fat and swollen. Plus, you’re delusional if you think I’m ever obeying you. No, we are not getting married. I quite like calling you my baby daddy.”

She was such a saucy punk. I’d get her to be my wife one day. I think I had a better shot after she had the baby. Because man was she pregnant.

Kelsey was nearing her due date, just two short weeks away, and her stomach was more inflated than one of those giant beach balls kids always snuck into graduation. She could barely walk, just wobbled wherever she needed to get to. Not that I wasn’t waiting on her hand and foot.

I’d convinced her, finally just a week ago, that she needed to stay off of the preserve until after her maternity leave. I was usually tense about her being over there, even when my child wasn’t inside of her. The sheer multitude of animals who could attack her scared the ever loving shit out of me.

It helped that Minka and Chloe had arrived two weeks ago, clucking like mother hens around our condo. They doted on Kelsey, helped to get the entire nursery set up in two days flat, something we hadn’t been able to handle yet.

Owen and Miles flew in when they could over the last couple of months, and stayed with us whenever their teams played in D.C. And we tried to make those games, watching our best friends play in the majors.

Miles, of course, got brought up to the majors in New York about a month after we left to come to Virginia. He was tearing it up, the media was calling him the Rookie of the Year. And if he was the Rookie of the Year, Owen was the league MVP. Owen was racking up more wins for his major league team in California that he would soon break the record for the entire club, let alone a first year starter. Sometimes I missed baseball, but one look around my new life and I had all that I needed.

I find Kelsey in the nursery, rocking in the pastel yellow chair holding her belly while singing John Mayer to the more-than-ample bump.

“Chloe and Minka really went crazy in here, didn’t they?”

I walk over to plant a kiss on her forehead, then her lips, and felt the usual, cock-hardening heart-flipping sensation that took over my entire body every time I came within 10 feet of her.

“Well, at least we know our daughter will never go unspoiled.”

I tickle her side. “Or our son. Don’t play that game with me, Roo.”

“Don’t you think I’m actually Kanga now?”

I looked at her petite frame sitting in the rocker, her slim arms and legs jutting out from her big belly. She was still just as small, a fireball of energy, as the first time I met her. “Definitely not, babe.”

Turning my attention to the room while I keep my hand in hers, I can see she and the girls have been busy. They’ve done the room in greens and yellows, matching our attitude on not finding out the sex before Kelsey gives birth. Because of course, why would the self-proclaimed gypsy miss out on life’s ultimate surprise?

But the real theme of this room is wildlife. The walls are adorned with hand-painted scenes of the African jungle. Stuffed polar bears, hippopotamuses, giraffes and dolphins are piled in the corner. A tiger mobile hangs above the crib. The one that I put together because I’d insisted on being the best father ever. I’d only had to redo it three times after screwing the wrong parts together.

“God my back hurts.” Kelsey moans while readjusting in the chair.

I move to lift her up, my arms all but carrying her up. “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.”

I feel so helpless these days, but in a good way. Because for as uncomfortable as she is, I know we are that much closer to seeing our baby.

We’re halfway through the hallway, laughing about the sad state of Kelsey’s walking, when I hear what sounds like a bucket of water being dumped on the floor. She stops dead, her arms going tense where I’m holding them under her armpits.

My heart goes into overdrive thinking she’s hurt. It’s hard to keep my voice neutral. “Babe, what’s wrong?!”

Kelsey looks over her shoulder, that wild hair brushing my chin. “I think my water just broke…”

“What?!” I can’t have heard her right. We still have two weeks. We aren’t ready! I haven’t even finished the last chapter in “So You’re Going to Be a Dad.”

“Uh…yeah.” Kelsey seems in a daze, and I know I need to step up. This is my moment. I have to take care of my girl, and my baby is on its way.

Snapping into crisis mode, I call Chloe and Minka, who are staying at a nearby hotel. After a rushed, excited and frantic phone conversation, it’s decided they’ll meet us at the hospital.

After laying Kelsey down in the tub, where she insists on washing herself before we leave because “I’m not going anywhere with wet pants on,” I run around our bedroom like a chicken with my head cut off. I throw things into a suitcase, not sure if they’re suitable for this experience or not. I pack like we’ll be there for a week, when in all honesty I could always send Minka or Chloe to come get anything I forgot.

I usher Kelsey out of the house as she practices the labor breathing we did in Lamaze. To say that we became the class clowns is an understatement. It’s a miracle we even learned anything. Then again, neither of us was very good at school. Here’s to hoping Baby Bellows inherited
his
Aunt Minka’s smarts.

A pile of paperwork, wheelchairs and hospital gowns later we’re in the delivery room. And I hate it. Kelsey is screaming her head off, refusing the pain medications because she’s my fearless, lionhearted, take-no-shit spitfire. But no pain meds means she’s screaming her beautiful little head off in excruciation. I wish there was technology to transfer that pain to me, let me take it.

I can’t stand to see her body being ripped apart, but I stand behind her, letting her squeeze my hand until it feels like it might fall off.

“You can do this, baby. You’re doing so well.” I kiss her sweaty forehead and thank god for giving me a dick.

Kelsey just makes an unintelligible grunt, screaming and moaning while also trying to focus on her breathing.

Six hours in and my girl is holding strong, refusing any kind of drugs and giving the doctor a death glare anytime she utters the words “C-section.” But she’s not dilating enough. The doctors are worried it will put the baby in distress, and I will do anything to make sure she and the baby are safe.

“No, I can do this. It’s what my body was made for. I’m doing this the natural way.” Kelsey keeps pleading with them, me, and anyone who will listen.

“Okay listen, Kels. We’re going to try and push a little more. But if you can’t get the baby out now, we are going to have to take you in for surgery.” Her Obtalks slowly and steadily, making it a firm offer that Kelsey won’t go back on.

“Okay, okay.” Kelsey is sweating, tears streaming down her face and her slim limbs tense in pain. But she’s never looked more beautiful. I’m in awe of her, how perfect and strong she is.

I prepare myself, readjusting my stance and taking both of Kelsey’s hands in mine. This could be it. We could meet our little guy right now.

“Push!” The doctor instructs her.

Kelsey gives a blood curdling scream and tenses her entire tiny body, putting all of her focus on pushing the bowling ball size person out.

The doctor tells her to breathe, and then push again. Kelsey gives a tiny groan and then goes silent, holding her breath while she tries to force the baby out.

On the third push, the doctor gets excited. “Okay, I see the head, you are almost there! One more big push for me Kelsey!”

Kelsey looks up at me, her hazel eyes exhausted, happy and dazed. And then she’s pushing, and I hear the wails of our baby for the first time.

We’re both crying as the bundle up the baby and hand it to us.

“Congratulations, you have a little girl!”

The whole world falls away. I see Kelsey, holding our perfect baby girl, and there is nothing more important in this universe than them now. All of the other problems fall away, my aches and pains, any conflicts. We have a daughter, and she is healthy and beautiful. I’m already in love, itching to steal her out of my girl’s arms and keep her cradled in mine for the rest of her life.

“I know it’s not a boy…” Kelsey looks up at me, tears in her eyes as she kisses the baby’s forehead.

“Shush. Who wanted a boy anyway? Not me. We have a perfect, amazing little girl.”

She hands me the little bundle, and I’m mesmerized by the tiny face that peeks up at me, her eyes the same cinnamon color as her mothers. And I know, in this moment, that life will never be the same.

But, if our girl is anything like Kelsey, at least it will never be boring.

G
iggling
from the third base side pulls my attention away from the conversation I’m having with my two best friends.

I see them, those red curls bouncing wildly around her head as she runs clumsily towards her Uncle Owen’s arms.

“Looks like he is going to take to the Daddy role just fine.” Chloe speaks up at my side as she rubs Minka’s growing belly.

Minka smiles, almost with tears in her eyes. “The hormones have me a little crazy right now.”

I giggle. “Don’t I get it…I remember freaking out or bursting into tears at the smallest things when I was pregnant with Nia.”

Nia. Our daughter. The light of our lives. Her name means purposeful in African, and purposeful is defined as the act of being determined or resolved. And was she ever determined.

At just three-years-old, our redheaded curly Q does whatever she puts her mind to, almost with a singular focus. She’s fearless and strong, like me, but also calculating and assessing, like Clint. And if for some reason she can’t achieve her goal, Daddy will do it for her. Because she has Clint wrapped around her finger so hard it’s not even funny.

She’s got my foxlike features with Clint’s aqua eyes, and of course my hair. If it wasn’t for the baby fat, I would swear she was as whip smart as any adult I know. Sometimes I see that devilish smirk mirrored back at me and I think, “This is what I get for raising hell all those years.”

There is no better job than taking care of our daughter, though. I discovered my passion for animals long ago, but never did I think there would be something else in this world that I would take to so passionately. When I’d first gotten pregnant, I was scared out of my mind. With Clint’s help and learning together, we’d grasped what it took to be good parents. Or at least
I
thought we were good parents. Sure, we were a little unconventional, and goofy more than we were serious, but our family was a happy little unit.

We’re still living in Virginia, but we bought a house a year ago. We found an old, craftsman style in a neighborhood we love. I insisted we fix the thing up ourselves, because of course I’d never settle for one of those cookie-cutter builder’s homes. Now it was home, a place we spent most every night playing with Nia on the floor of the living room. And then after she went to bed, Clint and I practiced at making more babies. Recently, he’d been begging for another. I was close to giving in.

Things at the preserve were better than ever. We’d just gotten two new tigers in, whom Nia loved to call Simba and Nala — we were on a Lion King kick these days. Even better than my work and how well the preserve was running was seeing my dad, Jackson, with his granddaughter. He was smitten, and when they were together, inseparable. Nia gazed at him as he talked, in awe of every word that came out of his mouth.

And Clint is helping kids to gain the confidence and self-esteem they need to feel comfortable and get healthy. I admire him more every single day. He’s still my best friend, my support system, and a tiger in bed. Have I mentioned that our sex life is incredible?

“Daddy!” Nia gives a huge shriek and I turn as Clint walks up from the dugout. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention his other job.

This season, Clint was asked by his former coach at Grover to be the pitchers’ coach. Having been a catcher, he knows the psyche of a pitcher, knows what will work and when. They couldn’t have picked a better man. Because not only does Clint love baseball, but he loves these players. He’s stood in their shoes, knows what it’s like to juggle a sport, school and a social life. And for my benefit, it’s damn sexy to be able to call him Coach.

“There’s my girl!” He catches Nia mid-jump and swings her around. She might love me, but Clint is the one who hangs the moon. As in awe as she is of her grandpa, her father is her knight in shining armor.

Clint walks to me, that sexy swagger igniting everything south of my waist. Another great perk about him being a coach? I get to see him in those white baseball pants again.

He fist bumps both Owen and Miles as he walks up to them with Nia in his arms. Our baseball superstars. Miles is still in New York, and fresh off a World Series win last year. I can see the massive team ring sparkling on the hand opposite his wedding ring.

Owen isn’t too sore about not being a champion this year, though. He already has a Series ring from two years ago. Plus, being awarded the Cy Young this year was a pretty good second.

He grabs the back of my neck, bringing me in for a kiss that is familiar and yet makes my knees weak. “And there is my wife.”

Oh, yeah, about that. Clint had been asking me since the fifth month of my pregnancy to marry him. I’d always refused, not wanting the fact that we were having a baby together to cloud our judgement. I knew plenty of people who were not married that were completely happy. And I knew plenty of married couples who were miserable as shit.

It was only recently, when Nia had started asking about mommy and daddy’s marriage. She’d overheard the word married at one of her playgroups, and was hooked on the notion ever since. I knew then that I had to do something about it. I didn’t want my girl growing up thinking Clint and I didn’t love each enough to put that silly label on it. It didn’t mean anything anyway, just a piece of paper. I could easily do that if it made my daughter happy.

And so I had done something about it. On our New Year’s trip to Las Vegas, as Clint, Owen and Miles sat at the blackjack table, I took Minka and Chloe to help me pick out a white dress. They’d both already had their extravagant weddings, Minka’s in a park in our hometown complete with twinkling Christmas lights overhead and vintage wooden tables filled with succulent blooms. Raquel had helped her plan absolutely everything. Chloe and Miles got married at a venue on the Hudson River, with a spectacular rooftop view of the entire city. And of course they’d performed a choreographed tango at the reception.

Me? We all knew my wedding would never be that traditional. I’d surprised Clint by asking him and the boys to meet us in one of the small ballrooms at the casino. Waiting for him was his bride, in a white mini-dress, and Elvis ready to recite vows to us.

Everyone had cried, especially Clint after he’d been so patient all of that time. We’d laughed a whole lot too. I couldn’t have thought of a better way to commit myself to the man I loved forever.

“Nice win, Coach. Who’s taking you home tonight?” I winked at him as our friends joined us.

They’d come to watch Clint’s last home game of the season. Sadly, Grover wasn’t making the championship this year. But on the upside, Clint had taken the rookie freshman pitcher and molded him into something great this year. The kid had a real shot at the majors, and buzz was already starting about how great of a coach Clint was. We all stayed after the game, after everyone was gone…I think the guys wanted to reminisce about their glory years on this field.

Owen put his arms around his wife’s shoulder and nuzzled her hair. Minka was due any day now with their first baby. She was already such a mom, I was surprised it had taken this long. I called her every single time Nia even coughed, checking with my on-call nurse to make sure my kid wasn’t sick.

“Come on babe, can we get one too?” Miles put on his puppy dog face and pouted at Chloe.

She wanted to wait, we’d had this talk the three of us girls many times before. Ballerinas only had a shelf-life of so long, and she didn’t want to take herself out of the game by getting pregnant. I respected that, she worked too hard to cut her career short. But I just hoped she’d decide to be done sooner rather than later. Having a child was the best moment of my life, and Chloe deserved that too.

She gives him a wink and kisses his cheek chastely.

“We can play catch?” Nia hugs Clint’s neck tight, silently begging with those big baby blues. Of course her father and her uncles aren’t going to say no.

“Catch? We can play a whole dang game!” Owen plucks her out of Clint’s arms and runs toward home plate.

He plops her down as I get her little wiffle ball and bat out of the bag I brought. Like after every home game, I knew she would want to play on the big boy’s diamond. Her imagination and drive are enormous.

I walk over, handing her the little bat and throwing the plastic ball to Owen while eyeing him. “Don’t hit my kid.”

I give her a fist bump as I walk away. Clint lines up behind her with Miles jogging over to first base. Nia steals her daddy’s hat, plopping it on her little head and winding up, getting into an adorable batting stance.

My best friends and I trade smirks, holding each other’s hands like the lifelines they’ve always been.

And then Clint stands, his big booming voice echoing through the empty stadium.

“Let’s play ball!”