Page 123 of The Score

Ugh. No. What Bear and I are doing is fun and thrilling and right for now, but it is part of a plan. My parents will have to understand. My heart already does.

"So all the tests are done?" Bear asks.

We're sitting at the table, after finishing our meal of soup and salad. Sobremesa is an important part of a family get together. Whether you're close by blood or choice, a sip of liquor or tea and good conversation are part of the ritual. Tonight, we drink from my mom's much-guarded Boldo teabag collection. I take a sip of strong, medicinal-tasting herbal drink.

"Yes," Dad says. "Everything is ready for surgery in a few weeks. Now all I have to do is rest and follow the prep plan."

"How are you feeling about it, Tío?" My husband asks.

He puts his large hand on top of mine on the table, and I take a deep sigh.

One day, he'll take someone else's hand, but today he's taking mine.

"I like the head surgeon." Dad smiles, appreciating his own pun. "The boss seems to know what he's doing."

"His odds are the same," Mom adds, "but to have someone confident and so competent leading the team helps a lot."

"I hate that I can't come back home to help you prep," Bear says. "I wish I could be there. Just home, the four of us."

With training camp and all the pre-season stuff happening soon, Leon won't be allowed to go home. He got permission only for surgery day, and only because it's a risky intervention on a legal family member. One of the perks of being officially entwined.

"It's okay," my dad tries, but he tears up and can't keep talking.

We're all aware of the risks of what's about to happen. Fifty-fifty odds. None of us likes to think about it.

My dad knows our worries and our need to be with him means he's loved, and it clogs his throat. He puts a hand on Bear's shoulder. My husband looks back at him with an expression full of affection. All the while, he squeezes myhand harder. Like he's seeking comfort from me too, or like he wants to give me some in case I need it. Maybe both.

Without warning, my heart constricts, too.

My mom smiles, eyes jumping from one man to the other.

"We know how you feel about us, Leon." Her eyes turn to me, then back to him. "We all feel the same way about you. You don't need to say the words. And it's okay. I dreamt of Sergio holding a baby. He'll be okay."

I've always known there's no way to prove her dreams can actually predict things, but I hold on to this one with all my heart. She's been right before. I'm begging for her to be right about this one, too.

The relief is so big, I don't immediately realize what she's implying.

"Wait." I narrow my eyes. "Did you…"

Mom smirks. "Sí. Soñé con una guagua."

"A two for one dream?" Leon raises an eyebrow. "I didn't know that could happen."

"It was him." She shrugs. "And it was a baby. I'm taking both as a sign."

She gazes at me, playfulness and hope in her eyes.

I shake my head. "I'm not pregnant!"

Bear studies my mom, with one of those looks that remind me of a detective.

"Don't expect kids from us," he says.

It's the only possible answer at this point. Leon wants kids, but that's not a question I ever asked too deeply myself. What was the point? And he has a vasectomy, for heaven's sake. I drove him home that day! So no need to worry about pregnancies for the time being.

"Oh, I know." Mom gives us a coy smile. "It's not the two of you yet. A friend from my bookclub just sent a text and told me she's five months along."

My head pulls back in confusion. "If you knew who's having a baby, why drop it in the conversation like this?"