The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(96)

“I wonder if I should get one of those baby-on-board signs. That way the assholes behind me can learn a little patience instead of laying on the horn like we’re all in some motherfucking emergency,” Tucker grumbles as he helps me out.

“What’s going to happen when one of those fuckers comes to your door wanting to take Jamie out on a date?”

Tucker stops abruptly, causing me to collide with his stiff back. “She’s going to an all-girls school.”

“Okay, so what happens if one of those fuckers is a female wanting to take Jamie out on a date?”

“None of this would be a problem,” he accuses, “if we stayed in the hospital like I suggested.”

I giggle and brush him aside so I can get to my girl. “She’s still sleeping.”

His solid frame presses into my back as he leans over to peek inside. “She’s so gorgeous. I can’t believe we made her,” he says quietly against my ear. “I’m buying a chastity belt.”

“I don’t think she needs one yet.”

“I’m thinking ahead.” He gently moves me aside to pluck the carrier out of the base.

I arch a brow. “I heard you once had a threesome.”

He nearly trips on a non-existent crack in the sidewalk. A light cough precedes his query, “A threesome? Who’d you hear that from?”

Ha! He doesn’t deny it. Amused, I brush by him to get the front door. “Carin heard it. Said it was always the quiet ones.”

“No threesomes for Jamie,” he declares. “Maybe we should homeschool her until she’s thirty.”

“We’re turning into hypocrites.”

Tucker nods enthusiastically. “Yup, and no guilt here.” Right before he ducks into the house, he murmurs, “By the way, it was a foursome.”

I gasp. “Two guys and two girls?”

He smirks. “Three girls and me.”

“Wow.” I’m more impressed than angry. “Good for you, stud.”

Snickering, he pushes into the front hall and kicks off his flip-flops.

Inside, the house is surprisingly quiet. Ray must still be in bed, because the television is on but the volume is low, and instead of ESPN, a game show is playing.

“That you, Sabrina?” Nana calls from the kitchen.

“I’ll take the baby to the bedroom,” Tucker says, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

I head to the kitchen. “Hey, Nana. I, ah, survived.” I raise my hands in a lame victory pose.

She wipes her hands on a towel. Behind her, bacon is sizzling in a pan and the smell of eggs and vanilla fill the air. My stomach rumbles in appreciation. Hospital food is terrible.

“The baby sleeping?”

“Yup.” I open the oven door. Thick slices of golden French toast rest in a syrup of peach juice. My mouth waters. “This looks so good.”

“You should eat and then go lie down. These first few weeks aren’t easy.” She nudges me toward the table, her tone and her touch surprisingly loving.

“Do you want to see Jamie?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Carin and Hope had visited yesterday, whereas Nana had stayed away. It definitely hurt my feelings, but since Nana is my go-to caregiver, I don’t want to be a jerk about this.

“She’s sleeping,” Nana says dismissively. “There’ll be time enough for holding when the little thing wakes up. Babies never sleep for long—you have to take advantage of it while you can. Your man here?”

“Right here, Ms. James. What can I help with?” Tucker strides in with purpose, filling up the small room with his tall frame and broad shoulders. Whatever trepidation he had upon leaving the hospital seems to have worn off.

“You sit down too. We’re having breakfast. French toast and bacon.”

“I wish I could stay, but I have to go. My boss called and one of the crew members fell off a ladder on a job. He said he’d pay me extra if I came on short notice.”

“Extra money’s good,” Nana says with a nod.

Tucker leans down to kiss my cheek. “Walk me out?”

I get up without question and follow him outside to the truck. Now that I don’t have a baby bump between us, things feel awkward. He’s seen me at my worst, though, and is still sticking around. “Thanks for everything.”

“I haven’t done much.”

“You were there with me. That’s a lot.”

He runs his thumb along my jawbone. “You were out of it in the hospital. Do you remember much of it?”

Like how you told me you love me?

“I don’t remember much,” I lie. “I was operating on pure exhaustion.”

His face tightens with disappointment. “All right. If you want to play it that way, I’ll let it go for now.” He opens the driver’s door. “I’ll see you after work. Call me if you need anything.”

I want to tell him I need him to say he loves me when I’m not screaming my head off in pain or when I’m not weeping about how scared I am of motherhood.

A dozen emotions slide and pulse beneath the thin membrane of my self-control. Feeling vulnerable, I step back. “We’ll be fine. Come when you can.”

From the way his jaw hardens into granite, I know it’s not the answer he wants.