The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill

Thirty-Seven

Zeke

Pacing backstage, I wait as Kendall finishes her speech, barely listening to her as noise rumbles and crashes in my head like ocean waves breaking over the rocks, loud and disorienting.

Kendall’s pregnant? When the hell did this happen?

Is she with someone new? Is someone else the father?

I haven’t seen her in two months. A lot can happen during that time. Maybe she is with someone else, and she’s moved on.

That thought has my heart sinking with despair.

When I caught sight of her from across the stage, my heart lodged in my throat and my knees nearly buckled. I fought the urge to run toward her and wrap her up in my arms. Tell her how much I’ve missed her and how good it is to see her. To be in her presence.

As my eyes scanned over her from head to toe, taking her in like a thirsty man does with a cold glass of water, I thought at first the lights were playing tricks on me. The dress she wore clung snugly to her heavy breasts and full belly, indicating a significant and noticeable change in her physical appearance since the last time I met her for coffee.

Kendall always looks incredible. Shapely and gorgeous, she makes my mouth water with thirst and desire. Her cheeks are a bright shiny pink, and her full breasts plump enticingly, showing off a glimpse of the delectable cleavage in the V-neck of her dress. Breasts I’ve been up close and personal with and still make me hungry for a taste.

I lick my lips instinctively at the desire that still flares inside me. How desperate I am to run my tongue over the swell of her full breasts again. How twitchy my fingers are to touch and caress the bounty that I’ve held in the palm of my hand.

Shit, I’m getting hard.

I don’t want to be hard. I want to be mad. I should be fucking mad as hell that she’s deceived me all this time and kept her pregnancy a secret from me.

Why would she do that? To me?

Did she move on that quickly? Did I mean nothing to her in the end?

Too many questions run through my head as I wait for her to finish. I scoff sarcastically. There she is out on that stage, accepting an award on behalf of the work she does getting patients to open up. To speak their truths. To learn to be honest with themselves and others.

Yet, Dr. Kendall Rush doesn’t practice what she preaches when it comes to her own life.

I stew in my self-righteous pity and resentment until the loud applause of the audience jars me back to the present. I should go. Leave now before I do or say something stupid that will irrevocably do damage to the thin remnants of a friendship we have left.

Stepping from the shadows of the stage wing, I watch as Kendall gracefully walks toward me. The minute our eyes lock, her expression fills with regret. I slowly move toward her, crossing my arms defensively, snarling in anger, ready to pounce.

She takes the wind out of my sails, though, when she collapses to her knees.

“Fuck, Kendall.” I hurry to her side, dropping to my knees in front of her, placing an arm around her back to help her sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”

She sobs uncontrollably for a few minutes as my panic ebbs and flows with the uncertainty of what to do. Finally, her tears run dry, and she lifts her eyes, shiny and wet, and says something I don’t expect her to say.

“Zeke, I’m sorry,” she cries, her voice wobbly and barely audible over the bellowed words of the presenter currently on stage. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t want to trap you.”

“Hey, shh, shh, shh. It’s okay.” I stroke her hair, the soft glide of her strands working their magic on defusing my anger, which dissipates and, in its place, comes acceptance.

Someone walks by, giving us a strange look. I manage to help Kendall to her feet with one hand at her elbow, the other around her back.

“Let’s go somewhere more private where we can talk. Is that okay?”

Without a word of disagreement or protest, I escort Kendall out the backstage door to my parked car, where I don’t say another word until we’re in the warm familiarity of her apartment.

“Can I make you some tea?” I ask, propping a pillow under her bare feet as she stretches out on the couch before rummaging through her pantry to find the herbal tea I know she likes. “Chamomile or Hibiscus?”

I plug in her water kettle and extract two mugs from the cupboard.

“Chamomile, please.”

“You got it.” I make quick work of it and return to the living room where I deposit a mug in her hands.

“Thank you.” She accepts it and blows on the steam with a puff of air from her mouth. Then her eyelids close and she hangs her head. “I was wrong, Zeke. So very wrong. You have every right to be angry with me. I only hope you’ll hear me out.”

I scooch up next to her on the couch and stretch out my arm behind her neck. My fingers toy with the soft wisps of her hair that have come loose from the intricate updo she wore tonight.

“I’m here and I want to understand what’s going on with you, Kendall. And yes, I am angry,” I admit, acknowledging the raw and real emotion I’ve experienced for months. Since she left me bitter and confused after the breakup. “But I also love you and I will fight for your love, Kendall. I want to be the man who will listen and will always fight for us.”

With a sob of relief, Kendall spends the next hour explaining the reason she broke it off with me and kept the pregnancy a secret.

“I’ve wanted a child for so long, Zeke. But it was so apparent based on everything you shared with me that it was never going to be something you wanted. I didn’t want you to feel trapped and then resentful over my decision to have a baby.”

Looking through her eyes, I can understand, albeit a bit reluctantly, why she chose to do what she did. I unknowingly made it an impossible choice for Kendall to tell me the news that she was pregnant. I’d made it clear time and time again that I never wanted children of my own.

And in doing so, I unwittingly tore a hole in the fabric of our relationship. But if it’s possible that I love this baby even half as much as I love Kendall, I should have no hesitancy whatsoever over becoming a father.

“Kendall, I wish I could take back all the insensitive comments I made about children and pregnant girlfriends,” I offer remorsefully, holding her hand in mine. “I didn’t mean it to hurt you. I’m sorry my stupid fear of parenthood broke us apart.”

Kendall cups my jaw. “They are valid fears, Zeke. I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. It’s understandable given the way your father treated you. Of course, I forgive you. You’re not to blame in any of this. I just hope you can forgive me in time and maybe we can figure out how to work this thing out together. I’ll be okay on my own, but I’d rather have you by my side.”

My hand gravitates to Kendall’s belly, rubbing the mound in an affectionate circle, surprised at the emotions whirling around inside me.

“I want to do this with you, Kendall.” I pause and stare into her eyes, so she sees the truth within mine. “I will give you and the baby everything that I have to give. You are both my world.”

Finally, after shedding tears of regret and tears of joy, I ask her the question that still weighs heavily on my mind.

“What about basketball? That hasn’t changed and it’s the reason you said you couldn’t do this with me. I’m going to miss a lot of your pregnancy while I’m traveling.” A tinge of guilt forms in the back of my throat, worrying over my absences this winter and spring.

She sucks in her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know. It was the only excuse I could think of that I knew you couldn’t do anything about. It was a sucker punch and a dirty play. I’m sorry.”

Hearing the truth now shouldn’t make me as insanely happy as it does, but I’m thrilled to know she lied. That her rejection wasn’t that she didn’t love me or want to be with me, but something else entirely that I do have control over. I have the choice to make her happy for the rest of our lives. To choose love and acceptance of the life we’ve made together.

I lift her chin with my index finger, turning her beautiful face toward me so she can see the truth and sincerity in mine. “Kendall, you’ve taught me to face my fears. You’ve helped me become mentally stronger and showed me how to cope with my anxiety. You demonstrated how I could do better and be better in a world that lacks kindness.”

I slide my fingers through her hair, holding her face close to mine. “And because of all you’ve given me, I’m now ready. I want to share my life with you and this baby. Our baby.”

Tears fall from her long lashes and a watery smile forms across her trembling lips. I lean in and kiss away the wetness. Kiss away her doubt and uncertainty about me becoming a father.

Because I’ve never been more certain in my life.

“I know you are capable of raising a child on your own,” I say, tenderly smoothing my palm over the round curve of her stomach. “But I want to be the man to do it with you. I want to be part of it. On one condition.”

Kendall reaches her arms around my neck, scooting to her knees so she can be at eye level. Equally matched, heart and soul.

Her eyes shimmer and she quirks an eyebrow. “What condition is that?”

In her sparkling eyes I see hope for a future together.

“That you’re not my girlfriend any longer.”

She rears back, but I keep her close with my hand to her hips.

“But…then what…”

I give her a sly smirk. “My one condition is that my baby mama isn’t going to be my girlfriend. She’s going to be my wife. Can you deal with that?”

I take her mouth in a deep kiss, my tongue exploring what it’s missed for far too long.

When I pull away, I waggle my eyebrows and she smiles.

“I can deal with that.”

I scoop her up in my arms, with one hand under her back and the other cupping her knees, as her surprised laughers rings out, filling me with hope and promise. I lead us back to her room where I’ll never stop working to make beautiful memories with the woman who taught me how to live and love.