“What makes you think I won’t?”

  “Experience.”

  I scoff.

  She doesn’t blink. “Believe me, I want to be wrong as much as you think I am, but I’ve watched countless relationships dissolve over careers like yours.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “You can have a big, happy family or you can live the big shot dream… but you can’t do both. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to her.” She eyes the open laptop on the table. “And it’s not fair to that baby you’ll get to see maybe five months out of the year.”

  I deflate. Two photos of Daisy. Side-by-side. Head-to-toe.

  “That’s not… what it looks like,” I stutter.

  “Relax,” she says. “She won’t lose her spot in Los Angeles, if that’s what she’s worried about.”

  “Los Angeles?” I ask.

  “Daisy didn’t tell you?” She looks me up and down, easily reading my expression. “Let me guess, you two haven’t talked about your big career aspirations, either?”

  “She knows I’m going pro.”

  “But does she know how she fits into that? Or did you really expect a talented, driven woman like Daisy Hawthorne to stay at home, raise your child, and wait for you?”

  I don’t answer.

  “What you two want is one-in-a-million, honey,” she says. “I don’t like your odds.”

  Trisha steps outside and closes the door while my eyes linger on the laptop.

  Daisy’s grinning face. Her growing belly. My entire world.

  Los Angeles?

  CHAPTER 30

  DAISY

  “Hey, Daisy, lemme ask you something.”

  Dennis hops out of the dugout onto the grass with a bat in his hands. He slides it behind his back, doing a quick spinal stretch while he talks to me out of earshot of the others. They’re all silent — Hunter included. It’s the final game, to be fair. They have a right to be on edge.

  I let my camera hang around my neck. “Okay,” I say.

  Dennis leans in. “Do you know why they call them creepers?”

  “Creepers?”

  “Yeah. The little baby onesies.”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t thought about it.”

  He bites his cheek as he stretches. “It’s just one of those things no one knows the answer to,” he muses.

  “Well, I’m sure somebody does.”

  He stares at me, eyes casually falling to my stomach. I step back instinctively as I feel a towering presence near my shoulder.

  “Dennis,” Trisha says. “Leave us. I need to speak with Daisy.”

  I exhale, thankful for her sudden appearance.

  Dennis smiles, giving her a quick wink. “Anything for you, darling.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  He clears his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Trisha waves me away from the dugout. I follow a step behind her as we enter the stands, climbing into the middle section where I can barely hear myself think.

  She stops us by the railing, her eyes on the diamond below. I eye the stadium as well, taking a breath to admire it. Last game of the season. One last chance to breathe it all in.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  I freeze.

  “Don’t deny it,” Trisha says, turning to the face me. “Hunter already confirmed it.”

  “He did?”

  Weird. He didn’t mention anything about that at breakfast. Come to think, he didn’t say much at all. I figured he was just stressed about the game.

  “I’ll admit, I had my suspicions,” she says, her expression firm. “You piss more often than my grandfather.”

  I exhale hard, trying to think fast through this minefield. “Trisha, I’m sorry. I—”

  “You should be,” she says over me. “Sure, I’m your employer, but I thought we were friends, too.”

  “We are. It’s just…” My tongue twitches as weeks of secrets come spilling out. “It all happened so fast. One minute, I’m sitting at a baseball game and the next, I get knocked out by a damn home run and wake up in the hospital pregnant with his kid.”

  Trisha’s face screws up. “Wait— what?”

  “And he’s there and we’re both freaking out and then you offered him the exposé—”

  “Daisy, halt. Go back. The girl who got knocked out by Hunter’s home run. That was you?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “And you woke up — in the hospital — pregnant with his child?”

  “Yes.”

  Her head tilts, confused.

  “We had sex,” I spit out.

  “In the hospital?”

  “No, before that.”

  “When?”

  “In November. But I didn’t know I was pregnant until then.”

  Trisha counts on her fingers. “That’s five months.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How did you not kn— whatever.” She withdraws her phone from her pocket. “Keep going.”

  I hesitate, but it all comes tumbling out. “It was a one-night stand. That’s all it was supposed to be, but then we were living together—”

  “You live together?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, wincing.

  “So, you don’t live at your sister’s?”

  “No. I lied about that,” I say. Might as well come clean. “He asked me to move in with him and I accepted. We started dating and getting to know each other because we wanted our baby to have a family, but I…”

  I stop, unable to say it out loud yet.

  I don’t want it.

  I thought I would by now, but I don’t. I thought by now I’d feel… something. I’d have some piece of knowledge I didn’t have back then and everything would fall into place, but it hasn’t. They say a woman becomes a mother when she gets pregnant, but that’s not how I feel. It’s still… it.

  And I like Hunter. I really like Hunter. I believe him when he says I’m beautiful. When he says he won’t let anything happen to me. To us.

  But do I love him?

  Does he love me?

  Trisha keeps her eyes focused on me as her thumbs tap away. “Go on, Daisy,” she says, her voice soft. Oddly nurturing.

  “Maybe some other time, Trisha.” I turn back to the diamond. “The game is about to start.”

  “Wait—” She rests a hand on mine on the rail. “I’m a little hurt that you felt you couldn’t tell me about this, Daisy.”

  “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

  “I forgive you.” She nods, standing up straight. “You know, you’re pretty good at keeping things quiet. A girl like you is a natural in this business.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  “When is the baby due?”

  “August.”

  “Perfect. You can take some time off when the time comes, of course. Birth the thing. Survive. We’ll be in New England come autumn and by then, you can suit up and throw the little sucker in a björn. You can take pictures and nurse at the same time, right?”

  I pause. “I honestly don’t know.”

  Trisha smirks as she drops her sunglasses onto her nose. “You’re a 21st-century lady, Daisy. The answer to that question is always yes.”

  I spot Hunter in the dugout below. If I didn’t know him any better, I’d assume the heavy look on his face was nerves, but there’s something else hidden in those eyes.

  “Excuse me, Trisha,” I say. “I’ll be back when the game starts.”

  “Ta-ta, honey.”

  I make my way back down to the field, crossing the grass to the dugout. Hunter glances up as I approach, his eyes still heavy and out of focus.

  “Hey,” I say. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  Hunter doesn’t say a word, but he steps out onto the grass, prompting a wave of applause from those in the crowd who notice. He gives them a wave, but his hand falls quickly.

  “What’s up?” he asks.

  I clear my throat. “So, I know this isn’t the best timing for this, but — hey, that’s me. You should be used to that by now,” I say, fidgeting.

  Hunter says nothing.

  I take a breath. “Trisha knows. About us. About…” I gesture at my stomach.

  He glances down. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Because… you told her?”

  “She saw the photos on the laptop. Couldn’t be helped.”

  “Okay, but… why didn’t you tell me she knew? I got blindsided.”

  Hunter mutters under his breath. “Can’t imagine how that feels.”

  “Okay. What does that mean?” I ask.

  “Los Angeles,” he says, his jaw stiff. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It… wasn’t a done deal yet,” I say, carefully. “Trisha told me that the magazine liked my work and we’d discuss more permanent arrangements this fall in Boston.”

  “Boston?” he asks, his mouth sagging. “You’re moving to Boston?”

  “No, I live in Boston,” I say.

  “You live with me, Daisy.”

  “Temporarily.”

  Hunter steps back. “Wow. Okay.”

  “I’m sorry. Are we in a fight right now?” I ask, confused.

  “No,” he says, then, “Yes. We are. I think you’re being really selfish here.”

  “Selfish?” I furrow my brow. “For what? Living my life?”

  “For making plans to move across the country without including me,” he says. “I thought we were a team, Daisy. What about me, huh? What about the baby?”

  My throat tightens; the truth not ready to come out. I eye the field, the stadium, the boys in the dugout within earshot. “Should we maybe talk about this later?” I ask.

  Hunter shrugs. “You wanted to talk now. So, talk.”

  “Hunter.”

  He doesn’t reply. He just stares, waiting for me to answer the question I’ve been avoiding for what feels like forever.

  “Honestly,” I say, “when I think about it, the baby isn’t there.”

  Hunter pauses. “What does that mean?” he asks.

  “It means… that I don’t think I want to be a mother, Hunter.”

  He gawks at me, surprised. “And you just decided that on your own?”

  I scoff. “Bold of you to assume you can force me otherwise.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he says. “You’re six-months pregnant. It’s a little late to back out now.”

  “Not for adoption.”

  Again, he eases back. Wounded. “And you decided that on your own, too?”

  “I was going to talk to you about it—”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know! Soon.”

  “So, you want to give it up?” he asks. “Is that where you’ve landed after all of this?”

  “… Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want something different for myself,” I say. “I want to work for SI and travel the country and I can’t do that with a baby.”

  Hunter releases a frustrated sigh. “You never would have even gotten that job if it weren’t for it. Did you even consider that?”

  “So, it got me my dream job, therefore I have to quit my dream job… because it got me my dream job? What logic is that?”

  “Parents sacrifice for their kids.”

  I raise a brow. “And what are you planning on sacrificing for this kid, Hunter?” I ask. “You gonna postpone your career for a year? Or two years? Downgrade to the minors so you can spend more time at home?”

  “No,” he says, the idea obviously ridiculous to him.

  “Why not? What makes your dream more important than mine?”

  Hunter hesitates. “That’s…”

  “Different?” I say over him. “Because you’re Home Run Hunter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right. Of course. You know, I liked you a lot more when you were just a hot bartender, Hunter.”

  “And I thought you’d grown up a little since then,” he says. “Guess I was wrong.”

  I scoff. “Good luck at the game,” I slur, turning away.

  “Wait, Daisy. I’m sorry.” Hunter reaches for my hand. “Can you hold on for a second? Please?”

  My stomach flutters the way it always has when Hunter touches me, but the feeling doesn’t linger as long as it used to.

  “Hunter, do you love me?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says.

  “Is that true? Or is that what you want to be true?”

  He opens his mouth, but no words come out at first. “I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice breaking.

  “Yeah.” I slowly pull away. “Me neither.”

  “Daisy, wait—”

  “It’s okay,” I say, breathing an awkward laugh. “We knew from the start that this was a possibility.”

  “That what was?”

  “The whole point of this was to get to know each other,” I say. “To start from the beginning and see if we could be a family together.”

  “I remember.”

  “To do what’s best for the baby.” I swallow hard, feeling tears prick the edge of my eyes. “I think we have our answer, Hunter.”

  “That’s bullshit,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t let Trisha fill your head with that crap.”

  “What crap?”

  “She said that this wasn’t possible. That I could have the game or you and the baby, but not both.”

  I shrug. “Maybe she’s right.”

  “No, she’s not,” he says, desperate. “There’s still time. We can still be together, still have this baby. We just have to…”

  “Fundamentally change every aspect of our lives?” I finish for him. “Give up who we want to be?”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

  “This kid deserves a family who wants it more than anything else,” I say. “I’ll make sure it gets one. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Daisy, can we… can we talk about that part? Please?”

  “I can’t raise this baby by myself. Neither can you.”

  “Okay. But—”

  “Believe me, I want to,” I say. “But I know what I’m capable of, and it’s not that.”

  “No,” he says. “I don’t think you have any idea how amazing you are.”

  “Maybe.” I smile weakly. “But I’m not so sure this is the right time to test that.”

  “Please rise for our National Anthem!”

  Hunter deflates, annoyed with the timing of the announcement. “I have to go,” he says.

  I nod. “I know.”

  “But I want to talk about this some more.” He leans forward, demanding my eyes. “All right? We don’t have to make this decision right now.”

  I take a deep breath, the weight of it shaking my lungs. With a step forward, I push onto the tips of my toes, laying a soft kiss on Hunter’s lips.

  “Good luck,” I whisper.

  I slip from his grasp, escaping off the grass as the anthem begins.

  CHAPTER 31

  HUNTER

  Daisy wasn’t at the game.

  I looked for her every chance I could. I listened for her voice, for the shutter of her camera. Trisha was there, as always, hanging around the dugout with Dennis, but Daisy wasn’t there.

  I fear the worst. It’s not an entirely foreign feeling to me nowadays. I always feel a little uneasy whenever the bus hits the brakes suddenly or if Daisy doesn’t watch where she’s going on the stairs. She’s carrying some precious cargo under her sweater, so yeah, I worry about her constantly. But this… this feels different.

  I head straight for my room the moment we get back to the motel, dodging celebratory hugs and high fives from my team as I go.

  “Daisy?”

  She’s not here. It’s only my stuff. My duffel bag. My toiletries. Her hairbrush, gone. Her work laptop, gone. Not a trace of her. We secretly bunk together every chance we get, but she still gets her own room next to Trisha’s. She has to be there now. I rush out and down the stairs. Where else would she go?

  “Daisy?”

  It’s locked up tight. The curtains are drawn. Daisy can’t sleep at all with even the slightest bit of illumination — yet another thing that makes me nervous whenever she gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom in complete darkness.

  I knock again as more memories surface. Memories and thoughts of her. Our baby.

  Something is wrong.

  “Daisy!”

  The door opens, but I deflate. A housekeeper pokes her head out, rightfully nervous.

  “Can I help you, sir?” she asks.

  I step back, not wanting to frighten her even more. “No, thank you.” I glance over her petite head. Clean room. Empty. “I’m sorry.”

  Where are you, Daisy?

  The next door over opens and Trisha steps outside. She’s packed and ready to leave with a garment bag draped over one arm and her suitcase handle clenched in the other hand.

  “Trisha, where’s Daisy?” I ask her.

  She looks at me over the rims of her sunglasses. “Ah, Hunter! Congratulations. I can’t guarantee I’ll be in Omaha in person, but I’ll be rooting for the Bearhawks wherever I am.”

  “Where is Daisy?” I ask again.

  She locks her door behind her. “Ms. Hawthorne has returned home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yeah. Where the heart is,” she quips with a smile. “You’ve heard of it.”

  I shake off the annoying joke. “How is she getting there?”

  Trisha shrugs. “I didn’t ask, and she didn’t say, though if I were a betting woman, I’d put a twenty on the Peoria bus depot.”

  “What did she say?”

  She raises a brow at my harsh tone, but I don’t care. “Not a lot. Just that she wasn’t feeling well and wanted to take her leave. In her condition, how was I to say no? Besides, I’m confident we have everything I need to finish the exposé. Her job was done.”

  She left. She just… left.

  “I think this year’s article is going to be my best yet, Hunter,” Trisha says. “They’re going to love it.”

  “Yeah,” I murmur. “Can’t wait.”

  Trisha reaches into her breast pocket and withdraws a folded note. “She asked me to give this to you,” she says.