Page 136 of Ruin The Friendship
We end up winning the game in overtime, thankfully giving us home-ice advantage for the first two games. I give a rousing speech and get the guys excited for the upcoming series, but inside, I’m trying not to spiral.
I shower, and when I head back to my locker, Trigg, Adam, and Calvin are standing around waiting for me.
“What’s up?” I ask as I grab my phone, scanning the screen for any messages from Lydia. Thankfully, the only one is her congratulating me on the win.
A bag of popcorn rests on the bench in front of my locker, and I smile, silently thanking the social media girl, Vivi, for getting this for me. I texted her before the game today, asking if she could get me a bag since Lydia wasn’t coming. Thankfully, she obliged.
“What are you doing tonight?” Adam asks, running a hand through his dark brown hair.
“Honestly, I’m probably going to head right home. With how close Lydia is to the end of her pregnancy…”
Trigg nods, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We get it. We were going to see if you wanted to come over for a celebratory drink, but you need to get home.”
I nod. “Yeah. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stand the thought of being away from her for another minute. Maybe when we’re out of town, we can go out for one or something.”
“We’ll play it by ear,” Adam says.
Calvin shoves his hands in his pockets as he glances at me.
“What?” I ask him when he doesn’t say anything.
A huge smile breaks out on his face, and he gently punches my shoulder. “You’re going to be a dad, man!” He pulls me into a long hug, slapping my back. “Fuck, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I reply, trying to swallow down the emotion in my voice.
“I’m totally not jealous at all.”
“You want to settle down, Miller?” I tease, needing to make the moment less emotional.
When he pulls away, his expression is somber. Huh, I guess he really does want to settle down. I log that into my memory, knowing he might need someone to talk to about this later. Right now, I need to get home. Every moment I’m away from Lydia is giving me hives.
The guys and I walk to our cars together, and when I climb into mine, tossing the bag of popcorn into the passenger seat, I glance at the car seat in the back. This is all so surreal. Not even nine months ago, my life wascompletely different. Now, I have the woman of my dreams, and we’re starting our life together and welcoming our first child in the next few weeks. It can’t get any better than this.
Well, maybe if we win the Cup this season, but right now, I’m more than happy with where things are.
When I finally make it to our apartment, I breathe in the familiar scent of home, or rather, the familiar scent of Lydia. She’s nowhere in sight, and though I know she’s probably in bed, my heart pounds a little faster.
I creep walk down the hall, popcorn bag in hand. Pushing open our bedroom door, the lamp washes the room in warmth. Lydia is propped against the headboard, a pile of yarn in her lap as she works on her latest project. It looks like a black-and-white blob, and I can’t figure out what it is.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hold up the popcorn bag.
“Yay!” Lydia squeals, resting the project on her belly.
I bring the popcorn to her side, but instead of giving it to her, I lean in, slanting my lips over hers and stealing a kiss first.
“Hi,” I whisper against her lips. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She peppers kisses all over my cheeks and face, distracting me as she yanks the baggie from my hand. Immediately, she digs into the buttery popcorn, shoving a handful into her mouth and moaning. “God, this is so good.”
“You don’t even make that sound when I eat your pussy,” I tease, kicking off my shoes and rounding the bed to climb on.
“Shut up,” Lydia mumbles through her mouthful.
I chuckle as I settle in next to her bump, running my hand over it. “Hey, my little ladybug.” When she kicks my hand at the sound of my voice, my heart skips. I feel somuch better already, just being here with them. “I missed you, too. Were you good to your mom while I was gone?”
She thumps my hand again, almost like she’s acknowledging that I’m speaking to her.
“She wasn’t,” Lydia says. “She’s been kicking my bladder every five minutes.”
