Page 101 of Foul Ball
“Positive.”
Without waiting for more encouragement, Jayce pulled at the wrapping paper until the plain box was free. He reached into his back pocket for his keys to cut the tape, and a moment later, he lifted his gift from the box, turning it over in his hands.
“A baseball mitt,” he said, and the way he was trying to sound stoked over it nearly made me combust into laughter.
“Not just any baseball mitt,” I told him, eyes widening in mock fascination. “A child’s baseball mitt. Little league.”
“Aw, baby, that’s so sweet.” Still looking mildly puzzled, Jayce pulled me back against him and kissed my head, holding the mitt awkwardly in one hand. When he pulled away a moment later, he looked into my eyes. “You know that all the kids on my team already have gloves, right?” he asked.
“Yes, I know.” I took the mitt from Jayce, running my thumbs over the tanned leather and tiny etches in the design. “But our baby doesn’t.”
For a moment, the silence between us carried on as Jayce mulled this over in his head. And then, just like that, it dawned on him, and I saw his eyes go wide with realization.
“You’re—”
“Pregnant,” I finished for him. “I found out yesterday. It was going to be a surprise, but I couldn’t wait for Christmas day.”
“Oh my God, Macey.” Quietly, Jayce drew me into him, his strong arms wrapping protectively around me, holding me, squeezing me tight.
“Are you happy?” I asked, resting my cheek against his warm chest.
“Happy?” asked Jayce. “Oh God, Macey, I couldn’t be happier.” Shaking his head, his hand gently rested on my stomach. He closed his eyes with a soft sigh. “This is all I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Since I met you that first semester of college, this is all I wanted. You, a baby, a home...our family.”
“Me too,” I said quietly, and pain tugged at my insides, a pain so real, so raw still, that I almost cried. We both knew, without having to bring it up...we almost didn’t have that. Neither of us. “Five years next week,” I told him. “It will be five years of remission.”
Jayce closed his eyes and nodded his head, pressing his forehead against mine. “Five years that have been the best years of my life, Mace.”
“Ditto.” Pushing those memories aside, I kissed Jayce, and he kissed me back. Gentle. Hard. Passionately. I could kiss this man ten million times and never grow weary of it. “Merry Christmas Eve, Daddy-to-be,” I said with a smile. “To us, for beating the odds and surviving.”
“To us,” Jayce repeated. “For not only beating the odds but kicking ass while we did.”
“I love you, Jayce.”
“I love you, too, Macey. Forever.”
