The Way We Score: A small-town, accidental pregnancy, sports romance. (The Bradford Boys)

“That one looks like a leg of lamb,” Garrett says lazily.

We’re sitting in the hammock on the back porch at Cooters & Shooters on a crisp spring day. My head is against his chest, and we’re rocking gently back and forth.

I’m wrapped in a fuzzy blanket as we watch the clouds slide by in a clear blue sky, finding shapes in the towering bales of white. “I think it looks like Henny Lane.”

So much has happened since my divorce papers were filed with the judge here in town. The clerk said it could take up to ten weeks to get the final decree, so I put it out of my head. I don’t care how long it takes. I only know it’s done, and this guy made it happen.

He told me I wouldn’t believe him if he told me how it went down, and I said I didn’t care. All that matters is we’re together, and our baby is healthy

We had a lovely holiday season with the family. It’s been so long since I was on the coast full-time. I forgot about the parades and the lighting of all the trees downtown and The Polar Express in the park with blankets and popcorn.

We rang in the new year with a kiss as fireworks went off over the bay. It’s been our time to get established in our hometown, get reacquainted with the community, and get ready for the baby.

The only problem now is I’m overdue.

Nobody ever talks about being overdue, and I can only think it’s so rare. After my first week, I started researching. I researched how often it happens—only 5 percent of pregnancies. Five.

Then I started combing everything I could find to make her come out. I’ve tried foot massages… There’s supposed to be a spot on the foot that induces labor. False. I’ve tried acupuncture… Nope.

Nipple stimulation is another trick, and while having Garrett spend time gently rubbing, teasing, and sucking on my breasts ultimately led to many toe-curling orgasms—another supposed labor-inducer—baby girl still hasn’t budged.

I’ve reached the point where I don’t care about the pain. I don’t care about pooping or tearing. I don’t care about anything except getting her out of me.

Even Kimmie Joy did her best to help. She rested her little head on my stomach, petting me softly and cooing, “Come out, Baby Gina, I want you to play with me!”

“Liv’s just so warm and cozy,” Garrett teased, goosing his little niece to make her squeal. “She’s too comfy in there.”

“Really?” Kimmie’s eyes were wide as she studied me.

“Time to make it a little uncomfortable,” I grumbled.

Now we’re at the restaurant waiting on Dylan to whip up a spicy eggplant parmesan dish, and I’m pretty sure Garrett’s hungry.

“That one looks like Lindsey Cluckingham.” I point to a large, fluffy cloud with what looks like an arched tail.

“I think it looks like a rack of ribs.”

“You think every cloud is food.”

“You think they’re all chickens!”

That makes me snort a laugh, and I roll into his chest. His arms go around me, and it’s warm and safe and home.

“I’m hungry,” he groans.

“I can tell.” I push into my spot again, taking the pressure off my belly.

Our feet are on the ground, and we’re swinging slowly. “I’ve got one.” Garrett picks up my hand, threading our fingers together. “What’s the corniest love song you’d dedicate to me?”

“The corniest?”

“The absolute worst. The cheesiest love song you could long-distance dedicate to yours truly.”

“I actually have one.” I don’t even have to think, and my lips twist in embarrassment. “It’s too sappy.”

“That’s the point. The sappier the better. Tell me how much you can’t live without me, Liv.”

I put my hands over my face to hide as I say it. “A Thousand Years.”

“Which one is that?” He frowns.

“You know, the one about dying every day…”

“Waiting for you?”

“Yes.” My cheeks flame, because it’s true. “One time I was listening to it, and I started to cry.”

His eyes warm, and he catches the back of my neck, pulling me closer to kiss my lips. “That’s really hot, Liv.”

“It’s not hot. It’s sappy.”

“It’s giving me a boner. We should try nipple stimulation again.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I could die.”

“Every day, waiting for me?” His brows rise, and I give him a playful shove.

“Your turn, and it better be sappy.”

“Easy—‘Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ by Aerosmith.”

“From that Bruce Willis movie?”

“Yep, Armageddon. Don’t want to close my eyes or fall asleep or anything.”

Warmth spreads in my chest, and I reach up to pull his lips to mine again. Our mouths open, and our tongues curl. His hand is on my breast, moving under my shirt when Dylan interrupts us.

“Whoa! Sorry!” She turns around on the landing, grabbing at the screen door to get it open again. “Pretend I’m not here!”

He looks into my eyes, and we both laugh. “That’s a good game. We should play it again after lunch.”

“If I don’t have this baby…”

Holding my hands, he helps me out of the hammock, and we go into the restaurant. Dylan has plates set on a table, since I can’t fit in a booth anymore, and Garrett holds the chair as I ease into it.

“Gigi, come out!” I cry, resting my elbow on the table. “What are you afraid of?”

“Are you kidding?” Craig puts a glass of milk beside me. “Have you seen the world we’re living in?”

“Stop!” I hold up my hand. “I can’t carry this baby inside me until the world improves. I’ll explode.”

“Did you know elephants gestate for two years?” Dylan puts a platter of eggplant covered in a peppery red sauce in front of us.

“Dylan…” I cut my eyes up at her, and she starts to laugh.

“Sorry.”

Garrett is already serving me an eggplant medallion, and I have my milk on hand. “I’m really desperate. I hate spicy food. It burns my tongue.”

“The milk will help.”

I’ve just taken my first bite when the door opens, and Rhonda Peachtree hurries into the room.

“Garrett, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s here!” She’s waving a brown envelope over her head.

“Hey, Rhonda, what’s up?” Garrett rises, meeting her halfway.

“Olivia!” She hurries over to where I’m sitting, unable to stand. “This is perfect. This…” She hands the envelope to me. “Is actually for you.”

My eyes widen, and I turn to the side, fingers trembling as I unbend the bright gold fastener holding the envelope closed.

“I don’t think I can open it.” I feel excited and anxious and expectant… and finally, the flap opens, and I reach in to pull out the thick set of papers.”

Divorce Decree is typed in all-caps at the top, and it proceeds to state that it’s over. Warner Oberon the Third is officially out of my life once and for all. Holding a moment, I take a few breaths, waiting to see how I feel.

“It’s so odd,” I whisper. “I don’t feel anything.”

Lifting my gaze, I meet Garret’s smile. “That chapter is closed.”

“It is.” I nod, reaching up to him.

No tears, no regret. The feelings are so far in the rearview mirror, and I’m completely over it.

“Hey.” Garrett gives me a nudge, and I look up at him. “Will you still marry me?”

Pressing my lips together, I pretend to consider this. “I only just got divorced. I might want to play around a little.”

“Play being my wife.”

A smile breaks across my lips. I love that. “My husband.”

He hugs me close again, pressing his lips beside my ear as he whispers, “I’m never letting you go again.”

“I can’t take another day of this.” I’m standing in the kitchen at the Bradford house eating pineapple and drinking licorice tea.

I’m on the verge of tears.

“I wish there was something I could do!” Dylan holds my hand, her face scrunched in a frown.

Her hair is up in a bun, and she’s dressed in her ballet leotard with nylon pants over it. She’s headed out to school to teach her P.E. classes, and I’m facing another day of waddling around like a whale.

“Are you kidding? You’ve done everything! You made shrimp quesadillas, lemon drop cupcakes, spicy eggplant parm…”

“It only gave you heartburn.” She tilts her head to the side sadly. “I’ve got to go, but can I get you anything?”

“No.” I sigh heavily. “I think I’ll walk to Mom’s. Maybe being with the chickens will coax her out.”

She laughs, giving me a hug before skipping out the door. I put my hand on my lower back, making my way out to the wide concrete path along the water that leads down to Mom’s small cottage on the bay.

Signs of spring are all around me. Pink flowers sprout on the redbud trees. Butterflies flitter over the small, white bloodroot flowers. A biker zooms past when I take a break to pick a bright orange calendula.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” An older lady in a straw hat stops to pick one.

She has a small dog on a leash, and it’s wearing a little plaid jacket.

“Yes,” I nod, smiling. “I like your dog. Is it a Yorkie? I’ve never seen one that color.”

“It’s actually a Biewer Terrier.” Her eyes sparkle, and I hesitate.

“Did you say a Beaver—” I don’t finish when a squirrel pops its head up, and the little black-and-white dog goes crazy barking.

“Oh!” The lady reaches down to try and catch him, but he bolts.

My heart jumps, and I reach out to try and help her, when a hollow thump sounds inside me and a gush of water rushes down my legs. All at once, I’m hit with a contraction so hard, I almost have to take a knee.

“Oh no…” I gasp, reaching out for a skinny tree growing alongside the path. “Why, baby girl?”noveldrama

Another contraction hits, and cold sweat breaks across my forehead. I’ve had stomach cramps before, but this pain is like my insides being clamped in a vise.

“Oh, no…” I cry this time, squeezing my eyes shut as the twist keeps going.

It feels like it won’t let up, until it finally does.

Gasping for air, I look up to see the woman is down the way, still trying to catch her little dog. “Help…” I try to call to her, but it comes out as more of a yelp.

The contractions are coming so fast, I can’t walk. I’m starting to panic. I’m looking all around for anyone, but on this mid-morning in March, the path is pretty deserted.

Tears are in my eyes, and I hold my stomach, doing my best to keep moving forward through the pain. “You couldn’t have waited until I got to Mom’s?”

Another blast of pain stops me, and I bend forward, putting my hands on my upper thighs as I cry out. My mind spins, and when it finally stops, I fumble to get my phone out of my pocket.

I can’t believe this is happening. After all this time of waiting and trying and everything I did, I’m going to have this baby right here on the sidewalk. Terror strangles my throat, and my hands shake as another contraction starts.

Again, I can’t help a loud groan, which is what they taught us to do in birthing class rather than scream. Blackness starts to lower over my eyes, but I try to fight it. I can’t faint right now. I’m trying to remember… HypnoBirthing, what’s my mantra?

None of it matters as I reach for the nearby bench, using it to lower to my knees…