“Yes, I just have to fly back to New York to do it. And whenever an assignment comes up that I’m qualified for and interested in, I just accept the offer. But I don’t have to accept anything, or I can accept everything.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Now that I’m pregnant, though, I’m not sure what I want to do.”
“What do you mean, Kitten? You want to stay home with our son?”
“Jack, stop!” I giggled and rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see, then turned my body around to face him. “But I think I do. Want to stay home, that is. Plus, I really want to be there for you and travel together as much as possible.”
Looking deep into his eyes, wanting to be sure he saw the sincerity in mine, I said, “You see, I had this epiphany on the train home the other day. You’re my home. I don’t want to be where you’re not. And I know those feelings are only going to magnify once the baby comes. I’ll want to keep our family together as often as possible. So, if my career sits on the back burner for now, I’m totally okay with that.”
Jack held a hand in the air to stop me. “Are you sure? You’re okay with not working? I know how much you love photography, and I don’t want you to resent me or hate me somewhere down the line. I’m in this for the long haul, Kitten. I’m not planning on ever letting you go, so I can’t have you hating me in five years.”
“I want to do this. It’s my choice. I want my family to come first, and you,” I choked back a sob, “you’re my family. I’m not saying I’ll never work again, I just don’t want to work for now. Priorities, babe. These are my new ones.”
Jack sighed. “God, Kitten, I want to fight you on this right now. I want to tell you that you’re wrong and stupid and should never quit working because you love it so much, but I’m too busy feeling so happy with everything you just said. Not because you’re giving up something you love, but because there’s no one else on earth I’d rather have raise our son than you. And if that means I get to spend more time with you at home, on the road, wherever—I’m thrilled.”
Then he cupped my cheek with his hand, looked deep into my eyes, and said, “Every moment with you is never enough; I always want more. And I always will.”
Hearing that, I broke out into tears again.
Fucking hormones.
Moving Home
One Month Later …
The following week, I’d hired movers to pack and move our apartment. Saying good-bye to not only the view, but the city and our friends, was extremely hard. I knew we’d keep in touch, but the reality was that it wasn’t the same once you didn’t get to see one another whenever you wanted.
Plus, I had fallen in love with New York City. It was harder to leave than I anticipated. I mourned the loss of my second home, a city that was so opposite from where I was from, but filled my heart in much the same way. Tears were shed, and not because I was pregnant.
Well, maybe a little.
The movers drove all of our belongings to a storage unit near Gran and Gramps’ place, where we all took turns stacking boxes into the rented space. Except Jack had everyone on strict orders that I wasn’t to move or carry much of anything, unless it was super light. So I ended up spending the majority of the day watching them do all the work. I felt like an ass.
Since Jack was already staying in his old bedroom at Gran’s, I joined him there until I could find us a house to live in. It was hard looking for a place while I traveled with Jack and attended all his home games at a new stadium.
I had to learn new faces, meet new wives and girlfriends, remember what it was like to drive in LA traffic again, all while battling morning sickness that usually turned into afternoon sickness, followed by night sickness. Aside from that, everything was great. When I told Jack that I needed to stay back from the team’s last road trip to look at houses, he begrudgingly agreed.
Jack claimed to understand, but said he didn’t like it. The only way he’d accept my staying away from him was if I finally found us a home to live in. As much as we loved Gran and Gramps, we desperately needed our own space. And with the baseball season coming to a close, I wanted to find one soon. We had such a limited amount of time before the season started back up again, that I longed to be as comfortable as possible as soon as I could. Plus with the baby coming, I needed to be settled.
What could I say? I’d always been a planner.
Jack hated not being near me while I was pregnant and had insisted I come with him on every road trip. He made sure I was catered to constantly, with whatever I was craving at the moment waiting for me when I checked into our hotel room, along with extra pillows, crackers, and a mini fridge chock-full of ginger ale.
Truth be told, I loved the way Jack doted over me and protected me. I felt safe with him; I always had. My thoughts drifted back to the night of the mugging when we were still in college. I remembered how scared I was, my body filled with shock, confusion, and sadness at everything that had transpired that evening. The emotion that impressed itself on me the most was the feeling that took over my entire being the moment I saw Jack. When he pulled me into his arms, I knew everything was going to be okay because he was there. I had relaxed instantly, allowing Jack to do what Jack does best: protect what’s his.
I loved traveling with him, but I was exhausted. And begging off that last road trip was worth it. So worth it. Because … I found this house.
Oh God, this house.
Swoon.
I felt lucky enough being able to move back home knowing that all our family would be here when the baby was born, but the house we just bought was another blessing altogether. The one thing we had missed the most while we lived in New York was the SoCal beaches. There were plenty of beaches in New York, but it wasn’t the same.
Hanging out with friends, surfing, and bonfires were part of growing up in Southern California. Not to mention the fact that the Pacific Ocean was one of my earliest photography obsessions. Looking for a place close to the baseball stadium, our families, and with a good school district for the baby, the Newport Beach area seemed like the best answer. Not to mention the fact I’d have daily photographic inspiration to keep my soul satisfied.
The price tag deterred me initially. I made great money in my job at the magazine, and Jack’s baseball contract was more than most people would ever make in a lifetime, but I still liked to be smart when it came to our finances. And dropping millions of dollars on a house scared the ever-living shit out of me. Plus, Jack could get traded again at any time and then what? We’d have a crazy-expensive house that we never lived in?
But then Jack reminded me that we’d always want our home base to be in Southern California. Even if he did get traded again, we should still have a house where we wanted to end up in the long run. And he was right. So after weeks of home shopping without Jack, I found the perfect one in a gated community, which I knew Jack would love.
The house was two stories with four bedrooms, an office, and a gorgeous backyard with a swimming pool and a lush lawn. The master bedroom had a wraparound balcony and the moment I saw it, I instantly longed for a telescope. I’d asked my dad for one as a kid, but like many others, that promise never materialized. The tipping point was the house had a view to die for—you could see the ocean from every room in the house. When I walked through the front door for the first time and saw the ocean view from the windows, I was stunned. And sold.
Jack’s eyes lit up when I brought him to the property. Luckily, the previous owners had modernized the home, so there was nothing I wanted to change, not a single thing. And the best part was that the owners desperately wanted to get rid of it, so we got it for a “steal.”
On moving day, I watched as Jack wiped his brow, sweat dripping from him in beads. He and Dean stacked boxes from the moving truck we’d rented into various rooms in the new house while I worked on unpacking and setting things up. I wanted our house to look like home as soon as possible, so while they unloaded, I unpacked.
I was amazed at everything we accomplished this way. The truck that just hours prior had been filled to the gills, was now almost empty. And the walls of our home that were bare a few hours before, were now filled with artwork and framed photographs. It was as if we’d lived here for years.
“Kitten, you don’t have to do that. I can hire someone,” Jack shouted from the garage.
“Stop being crazy. I’m perfectly capable of hanging artwork and unpacking our stuff.”
Jack sauntered into the house and grabbed me by the backside, then spun me around. “I worry about you,” he said before leaning over to plant a kiss on my barely-there tummy. “Don’t we?” he told my belly in a high-pitched silly voice. “We worry about Mommy. She needs to just sit down and look pretty while we do all the work.”
I burst out laughing and ruffled his hair. “You’re an idiot.”
He looked up with a grin. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” Jack kissed my stomach again before walking into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, reached in, and tossed Dean a beer. “Heads up,” he shouted as Dean jumped and moved to catch it.
“Dick.” Dean popped open the can and took a long gulp. And then almost spit it right back out at the sound of my best friend’s voice.
“Ah, I can’t believe you guys are back here! I’m so happy.” Melissa bounced into the house and straight into my arms. She glanced at Dean and Jack, giving them a curt smile before pressing her ear against my stomach. “How’s my little baby?” she cooed, then rubbed my belly like it was a fucking good luck charm.
Why does everyone do this?
Jack and Dean scuttled out the sliding glass door to the backyard. The cowards.
When they’d left, I folded my arms over my chest and said flatly, “Still not talking to Dean, I see?”
She tilted her head to one side. “He’s not talking to me, not the other way around.”
I frowned. “You broke his heart. What do you expect?”
“I expect you, of all people, not to take sides.”
“How can I take sides?” I said with a huff. “You never even tried.”
Melissa’s face fell as tears filled her eyes. “That was harsh.”
“I don’t understand you. At all. You’re the one who told me to fight for Jack, to not give up on him. You pushed me to love him and give him a chance,” I pointed out, then took a deep breath in and out to fight the nausea I felt growing. “More than once.”
“So?” she snapped.
“Soooo,” I said pointedly. “You never follow your own advice.”
“How do you even know I want to?”
“Because I can see it in your eyes. You miss him. And there’s something you’re not telling me. Come on.” I grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the garage.
“Where are we going?” She tried to tug her hand away, and I only pulled her harder.
“Get in the car.” I opened the passenger door and shoved her inside. “I’m sick of this and we’re going to the only place where you’ll listen to reason.”
