Intercepted (Page 66)

Gavin must hear my silent pleas—or sense the impending murder charges—because as the humongous linebacker from the Cowboys is about to get the first sack of the night, Gavin spins out of the way. He crosses the field, running faster than I have ever seen him, and just as he’s about to run out of bounds, he launches the football down the field to his receiver who shook his defender. It’s a perfect throw and the catch in the end zone is effortless.

I jump up.

Wrong.

I stopped being able to jump at the beginning of the third trimester. I lumber up, screaming and punching the air on the way. As soon as I get on my feet, Naomi’s arms wrap around my neck and we spin around in circles screaming like little girls at a pop concert.

When we let go of each other, I turn around, and my belly button that used to be an inny points at the man behind me. “What were you saying about Pope?” I don’t drop eye contact for a second as he stutters and stumbles, trying, but failing, to come up with a response. So, like the exemplary football wife I happen to be, I do the reasonable thing—I scrunch my nose and stick my tongue out at him. Because while impending motherhood might’ve made my ass grow, it hasn’t done much for my maturity levels. Some things never change.

* * *

• • •

DJ’S RUNNING AROUND with the other Giants offspring when Gavin and Dre make their way into the family room after the game.

“DJ, there’s Daddy.” Naomi points to Dre and DJ’s friends are instantly forgotten. His little legs run across the room and he jumps into Dre’s arms.

I have a similar reaction to Gavin.

“Hey, superstar.” I roll onto my tip-toes and touch my mouth to his when we reach each other.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiles down at me and rests his hand on my belly. “How are my girls doing?”

“We’re good, happy you’re still in the playoffs. Even though we wouldn’t mind if you didn’t wait until the last minute to win the game next time.” I laugh as I say it, but I’m dead serious.

“I’ll do my best.” He drops his hand to mine and links our fingers together. “I don’t want to be blamed for your water breaking all over the stadium seat.”

“Gross. Could you imagine?” Just the thought causes me to shimmy-shake. “The headlines that could come from it?”

Gavin starts to laugh. I’m not sure if it’s because of the way my lips are curled up in disgust, my serious fear of going into labor and having our daughter in the car or bathroom, or the hypothetical headlines, but I don’t care.

It doesn’t matter how often I see it. When Gavin laughs, the rest of the world disappears and mine lights up. The laugh lines around his eyes—a few more have popped up since we’ve been married—deepen, his single dimple makes an appearance, and his full lips part and frame his perfect smile. It’s my favorite part of our life and lucky for me, we laugh a lot.

“You’re crazy.” He tightens his grip on mine as his laughter fades. “Ready to head home?”

“No place I’d rather be.”