Beyond the Game: A Surprise Pregnancy Sports Romance (Chicago Red Tails Book 3)
Beyond the Game: Chapter 12

Dex: Did you know your partner can experience pregnancy symptoms right along with you? It’s like some kind of magic voodoo shit.

Me: Is this your way of trying to tell me your breasts are growing too?

Dex: You want to feel them and find out? *Smirk emoji*

Me: *GIF of Ron Swanson giving deadpan expression*

Dex: *checks out chest in the mirror* Nah. I’m good. But I swear I’m eating more. You’re eating for two. I think I’m eating for all three of us.

Me: You know you’re a pro hockey player, right? Playing more = eating more.

Dex: Maybe so.

Me: Come talk to me when you can’t sleep because you have crazy dreams or you’re peeing all the time because apparently bladders fail to exist in pregnant women. If only I had a penis, I could just whip it out, pee in a cup, and move on with my day.

Dex: That’s only a slightly disturbing mental picture.

Dex: I know you told me you don’t really follow hockey, but do you know anything about the sport?

Me: I like reading hockey romance books. Does that count? The guys in those books are always hot as hell, and there are scenes where they play the game.

Dex: So, you read hockey porn. That’s it? Never been to a game?

Me: Couple times as a kid I think. And what makes you think I read porn? I said romance.

Dex: *gives you knowing stare* Have you ever gotten off reading one of those books, Tate?

Me: I’m not answering that.

Dex: See? Porn. I’m not judging. One of my teammates reads a lot of romance. He may or may not have recommended it to some of us. Whatever makes you feel good. But it’s nothing like real hockey. You should come to a game sometime. I’ll get you tickets. 

Me: I mean I get scoring touchdowns is important but hot sweaty men on skates who are beasts on the ice, and, if you’re any indication, lovers off the ice? Yes please. That’s a thirst trap I’ll not turn away from.

Dex: *GIF of cat shaking head no* No Tate. Just no. 

Me: What?

Dex: There are no fucking touchdowns in Hockey. They are goals. Dear God, you’re going to need a tutorial.

Me: Whatever. Puck in the hole equals points. I get it.

Dex: *GIF of Ryan Reynolds face palm* Pucks go in the net Tate. No holes in hockey. Well…unless you’re shooting for the five hole.

Me: ?? What the hell’s a five hole? That sounds kind of dirty.

Dex: LOL! What can I say? Hockey is a dirty sport.

Me: A sexy sport though. So much more than football.

Dex: That’s something we can agree on.

Me: I can’t believe I got knocked up by a hockey player.

Dex: The sexiest hockey player to ever exist too. Let’s make sure that’s clear.

Me: Wow. Will our kid be as humble as you too? *Smirk*

Dex: Of course. He’ll have to get that from you though.

Dex: How are you feeling?

Me: What’s that? I can’t hear you over the massive amounts of peeing I’m doing today.

Dex: Is your classroom next to a bathroom?

Me: If by next to, you mean on the opposite end of the building, then yes. Yes, it is.

Dex: *frown emoji* Sorry to hear that. I could order one of those portable toilets like they have in hospitals and nursing homes.

Me: Because that’s what I need in front of a classroom of first graders. *face palm emoji*

Dex: Okay. Maybe not. How are you feeling otherwise?

Me: I’m good.

Dex: Just good?

Me: Yep.

Dex: There’s nothing else?

Me: Do you want there to be something else?

Dex: Uh…I’m just checking in on you.

Me: You don’t need to do that.

Dex: I disagree. Checking in on you is my job.

Me: Negative. Defending your goalie is your job as is putting a puck in someone else’s net.

Dex: *Glares at your baby bump* Looks like I already put a puck in someone else’s net. *wink emoji*

Me: Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Dex: Yes. Yes, it was for fuck’s sake. On your vacay bucket list, remember? And if I do say so myself, I remember it being pretty damn good.

Me: Goodnight Dex.

Dex: Goodnight Tatum.

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