I don’t answer him. Instead, I yank out of his grip and go to the bedside table, grabbing my phone to see if I have any text messages.

Oh, and I definitely do. My heart sinks. They’re all from Drew, asking that I call him, each one more frantic than the next, and there’s a voice mail from him, too. With a shaking finger, I press play and listen to it.

Fable, I need you to call me, baby. There are reports that you’re pregnant all over the internet and the publicists are asking me if it’s true. I told them it wasn’t, but I guess there’s talk of a reliable source and they heard it straight from your mouth or whatever. Anyway. Call me. We gotta talk. Now. Love you.

Closing my eyes, I press my lips together, the phone still clutched to my ear even though the message is over. I’m wobbly on my feet, my head is spinning, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed, sitting heavily on the mattress. I crack open my eyes to find Owen still staring at me, though now he looks positively freaked out.

“You’ve been weird for weeks, telling me you’re sick or whatever. You sleep all the time and you’re not eating. I’ve heard you puke a few times.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Fuck me, you are pregnant, aren’t you?”

I can’t even work up the energy to protest, let alone scold him for saying “fuck.” “Fine. Yes, I’m pregnant.”

He gapes at me, for once in his life at a loss for words. “Holy shit, Fabes. Does Drew know?”

“He’s gonna know in about two minutes, so can you give me some privacy?” My heart sinks to my stomach at the realization that I’m about to deliver news to Drew that’s going to change our lives completely. And he might be angry about it, too.

“Yeah, sure, Fabes.” As if in a daze, Owen leaves my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I sit on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes, rehearsing in my head what I’m going to say to Drew.

Remember how I wanted to have a baby? Well, guess what?

Yay, I’m pregnant!

Drew, you’re going to be a daddy.

Please don’t be mad at me.

I love you.

Ugh.

Deciding to just go for it, I hit his number and put the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. He answers after the first one.

“There you are. I was freaking out,” he says, sounding a little frantic. “Where were you?”

“Taking a nap,” I say, swallowing hard. Now that I have him on the phone, it’s hard for me to actually do this. To say the words, I’m pregnant.

“Fable, everyone in marketing and publicity is freaking out. Some jackass supposedly followed you and said he heard you say you were pregnant to a friend in a restaurant.” He pauses, letting the words sink into my stunned brain. Holy crap, someone actually followed me and Jen? Unbelievable. “Is it true? Or is this as**ole just making shit up? I told them it’s not true because I’d know if you were pregnant or not. I mean, shit—I’m your husband. And we already discussed this. You wouldn’t run and go tell a friend first.”

Actually, now both Jen and Owen know before my own husband, but that’s beside the point. “I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I murmur.

“What?”

I clear my throat. “Drew. I’m pregnant.”

He’s quiet. Way too quiet. I can feel the explosion building, can practically hear the wheels turning in his brain as he tries to process what I just said. “You’re kidding.” He sounds scarily calm.

“I’m not.” I lie back on our bed, my stomach pitching and rolling like a tiny boat caught in a stormy sea. “I’m about five weeks along.”

“How long have you known?”

“That doesn’t matter.” I didn’t expect that question, though it was stupid of me not to.

“It kind of does, at least to me. How long have you been keeping this secret, Fable? Did you really tell someone else at a restaurant? Who the hell was it?”

“I was with Jen,” I admit, closing my eyes. “I was scared to tell you, Drew. I didn’t know what you might say or how you’d react, especially after what happened in Boston.”

“When?” His voice drops to a near whisper. “When do you think it happened? That we conceived the—baby?”

“This is the funniest part.” Not really, but I’m trying to make light of the situation. “I’m pretty sure it happened when we were in Boston.”

“But you’re on the pill.” Another pause. “Right?”

“Yes. This is why I was afraid to tell you. I was scared you’d think I tried to trick you. We agreed that we wouldn’t try for a baby for at least a year, and then I go and get pregnant.” It was almost a relief, unloading all of that. For the first time in about two weeks, I feel like I can breathe easy again.

“Fable.” His husky voice is thick with emotion. “I can’t freaking believe it.”

“Are you upset?” Fear kicks in again, making my heart beat triple time.

“No. Hell, no,” he says quickly, his voice fierce. “I just … I think I’m in shock. Holy shit, Fable. We’re going to have a baby.”

“I know.” Tears form, slipping from the corners of my eyes. “I’m still shocked, too. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around.”

“And it’s weird, right? That we have that entire fight about having a baby and then bam, you get pregnant. I think that’s a sign.” He goes quiet again and I listen to his breathing, know that he’s still trying to process all of this, the poor guy. My poor, sweet, accepting husband. How did I get so lucky? “It was meant to be, Fable. This baby, us becoming parents at this time in our lives. It’s like God’s will or something.”

“Yes, I-I think so, too,” I say, sniffing discreetly, but he hears me.

“You’re crying, aren’t you?”

“Fine. Yes, I am.” A sob chokes me up and I let it out, beginning to cry in earnest. It takes me a moment to compose myself before I blurt out a string of words. “I was so afraid you’d be mad and think I tried to trap you into this. I have no idea what happened. I can’t tell you if I took a pill too late or what. It just … happened.”

“Birth control pills aren’t one hundred percent foolproof,” he says, Mr. Factoid. “We’ve been taking a risk for years.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I wish you were with me,” he murmurs, the promise in his voice making my skin sizzle. Helping me momentarily forget my drying tears.

“I wish I were there, too,” I confess.

“Are you feeling okay?”

The question makes me laugh, because I have been the complete opposite of feeling okay. “No. This little booger does its damnedest to make me miserable on a daily basis.”

“How? Holy shit, Fable, I can’t believe you haven’t told me until now that you’re pregnant. All this time I could’ve helped you … do you need anything? Do you want me to come home?” He sounds panicked, and I immediately reassure him.

“No, I’m fine, really, and I have Owen. He’ll help me if I need it. And I have Jen. I just get morning sickness, like all the time, and I’m really tired.”

He doesn’t sound convinced, but he gives in. “Fine. Okay. As long as you’re all right.” Drew pauses and my heart lightens. He just wants to make sure I’m all right and I adore him for that. “I’m sorry, baby. I’d take care of you if I were there. Give you whatever you need.”

“I know.” I smile. “I’ll come see you when you get back.”

“No, I’ll come see you. It’s your lucky day because I have a bye week next week and no game to play,” he says.

“Really?” Hope lights my chest, filling it with warmth. A bye week means my husband won’t have a game to play or practice for. He can have a few extra days off. “Oh my God, Drew, that’s such great timing.”

“I know, baby. I’ll be home Monday. And I’ll take care of you all week, okay? I promise.”

“Okay.” I sniff again, more tears falling. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad.”

I burst out laughing, even through the tears. “Well, get over it because it’s true. You so are.”

“And you’re going to be a mom.” His voice softens, full of wonder. “We’re going to have a baby, Fable.”

“Yes, I know. A baby, Drew. You’re going to be a daddy.”

“I didn’t even ask when you’re due.”

“I figure mid-June.” I sniff again. “Isn’t that perfect? You won’t be playing, you won’t be at training camp. I’ll have you all to myself, the both of us anxiously awaiting his birth.”

“His birth, huh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s a boy.” I love the idea of a mini Drew.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“I don’t care, as long as the baby is healthy,” I say truthfully.

“Amen to that,” he agrees, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “I love you, Fable. So damn much.”

His words mean so much to me, as does his easy acceptance. Why had I been so scared? Did I really believe he’d think I tried to trick him? He has more faith in me than that. I’m the one who lacks faith—in myself. “I love you, too. Call me tomorrow after practice, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

Drew

I spend the next few days walking around in a daze. At practice, I go through the motions; I talk to people, including the publicity team, who draw me into a twenty-minute meeting as to how we’re going to handle this entire “Fable Callahan is pregnant” thing. That’s what they actually call it. The Fable Callahan Is Pregnant event, or some such shit. They want to capitalize on it. Make me out to be a wholesome family guy who’s madly in love with his wife and taking care of her brother.

Every bit of it’s true, but they make it sound like a damn gimmick when it’s my actual life.

Sometimes, I really hate publicity types. All they care about is getting the story out and making everything look good. They questioned me repeatedly about Fable telling a friend she’s pregnant at a restaurant. Why was she talking about such a private matter in public? Why did she do something so ridiculous? Why did she not pay attention to who was around her?

I came up with some bullshit, making excuses for her because I’m not going to let them bash on my wife. Hell, I made up that I already knew she was pregnant and I was just playing them off to protect Fable’s privacy.

They looked at me like I was crazy. Whatever. They can believe what they want to believe.

Game day came and I tried my best to focus, but again, I played through a haze. Unbelievably enough, I actually played pretty damn well while my brain was in a complete fog, and we actually won by a large margin.

Crazy.

Now I’m headed home, ready to surprise my wife, who has no idea when I’m arriving. I’d been purposely vague, wanting to come home to her bearing gifts fit for the future mother of my child. I stopped at a local florist and picked up a bouquet of flowers, rendering the lady speechless when she realized who I was. I still forget I’m considered a celebrity, and it’s weird to have people react to me like that. I tried to blow it off, but I gave her my autograph and took a photo with her because she asked me to.

When I enter the house, it’s eerily quiet. I get why Fable came back here—she wanted comfort, to surround herself with the familiar, but damn, I wish she’d been at our house near Santa Clara. The weather is for shit; a steady rain had been falling since I woke up earlier this morning in San Francisco and it followed me all the way over here. Owen’s at school, or at least he should be. Fable should definitely be home.

So where is she?

I walk through the house, clutching the bouquet in one hand and a gift bag in another. She’s not in the kitchen or living room, so I head to our bedroom, where I find her, buried underneath the blankets and sleeping. Her number-one complaint since she told me she was pregnant is how tired she is all the time. I advised her to nap as much as possible while she can because once the baby’s born, she can kiss all those self-indulgent naps goodbye.

My making that comment resulted in her falling completely apart and crying for five minutes on the phone. I felt like an insensitive idiot. Her hormonal mood swings are damn scary. I never know what I’m going to get.

Had I thought she’d gotten pregnant on purpose? When I was first told of the pregnancy rumors, I blew it off. The media will say anything to get attention. But then it kept happening. The story about the reporter overhearing Fable tell a friend she was pregnant threw me. It made me start believing it. Made me wonder if she’d already been pregnant when we were in Boston and didn’t know how to tell me when I flipped out on her.

When I finally got the truth out of her, I’ll confess I was stunned. When she told me everything, I realized quickly I’d been wrong in my early assumptions.

Do you ever feel like you’re being tested? There are things and situations and people thrown at you throughout your entire life and you have to deal with it. Are you strong enough? Are you capable? Or do you run away and hide?

I used to be angry. I used to ask why me. What had I done to deserve this? To deserve dealing with my stepmom, my oblivious dad, my dead mom, my dead sister … I had reason to be angry.

Those tests turned me into a stronger man, and hopefully a better man. I have to be strong for my wife. And for our unborn baby. I can only hope I’ll be a good enough father to him—or her. I didn’t have the best example for parents, and neither did Fable.