Although the Warriors hadn’t made it far in the play-offs last season, Brody’s standings had impressed the Los Angeles Vipers’ general manager, who’d made him an offer, to both Hayden and Brody’s relief. It put an end to the “where do we live” dilemma that had been plaguing them since the engagement. Brody signed with the Vipers, and since the commute to San Francisco had been too much for her, she’d agreed to teach courses at Berkeley during the hockey season as well as a few summer courses. The arrangement worked for both of them; the online seminars gave her the time to work on her Ph.D. at the University of San Diego, and getting to L.A. from San Diego would be easier for Brody.
They’d married in Chicago, though, deciding it was fitting to say their vows in the city where they’d met and fallen in love. Brody’s parents had flown in for the wedding; Darcy had been the maid of honor, and the guests were a mixture of academics and athletes, including Brody’s former captain Craig Wyatt, who’d brought Hayden’s ex-stepmother. Shockingly, Wyatt and Sheila were now engaged, and Sheila was happily planning the wedding and enjoying the money she’d gotten from her divorce; she’d eventually settled for half of Presley’s estate.
Hayden’s dad hadn’t been able to make it to the wedding—the rehabilitation facility he’d checked himself into hadn’t allowed it—but he’d sent her a beautiful letter that stated how happy he was she and Brody had found love. He’d also thanked her for supporting him through everything, and Hayden had been in tears when she’d read his heartfelt words.
“Hey, you okay?”
Brody’s concerned voice drew her from her thoughts. She managed a nod. “Yeah. I was just thinking about my dad.”
Brody moved closer and wrapped his strong arms around her. “I know you wish he would move out here, but you can’t monitor every move he makes, Hayden. He’s sober now. Just have faith that he’ll stay that way.”
“I know.” She sighed. “At least he’s not in jail.”
Last year’s league investigation had resulted in criminal charges being brought up on her father, as well as the players he’d bribed, but Presley had gotten off with a fine and four years’ probation. Since her dad hadn’t been involved in a gambling ring or organized crime, he’d been lucky with his punishment. He’d lost the team, though, and Hayden knew that had been a big blow for her dad. The Warriors were now owned by none other than Jonas Quade, the man of many mistresses and that god-awful tan.
Sam Becker had wound up with probation, too, but Brody still couldn’t seem to forgive his former friend. Hayden hoped that in time the two men might reconcile.
“Last time he called he mentioned he’s thinking of buying a place by Lake Michigan,” Brody was saying, still talking about her dad. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, he didn’t mention it.” She suddenly smiled, wondering if maybe there was hope for her dad after all. He might have lost the team, but he seemed much happier lately, and the two of them were on their way to regaining the close relationship they’d had when she was younger.
“I told you he used to take me fishing when I was a kid, right?” she said.
Her husband kissed her on the cheek and took her hand. “Come on, we should go.”
“You’re right. Darce will freak out if we don’t show up soon. She’s been really bitchy lately. You know, the lack of sex and all.”
They headed for the doorway. “Actually, I think she’ll freak out when she sees this.” Brody rubbed her protruding belly with his palm.
Hayden sighed. She was only five months along, and already she felt huge. “Remind me again how you knocked me up when we’d decided to wait a couple years?”
He shot her a cocky grin. “I told you. I never miss. It’s my fatal flaw.”
“No, your fatal flaw is not getting me the ice cream I asked for last night.”
They left the bedroom and walked down their brand-new winding staircase. The floor in the front hall still needed to be laid down, but Hayden didn’t care as long as the renovations were done before the baby came. She grabbed her purse from the hall table and slipped into her flat sandals.
She followed Brody out on the porch, lifting her head to the late-afternoon sun and breathing in the warm San Diego air.
“I told you why I didn’t pick up the ice cream,” Brody grumbled. “You’ve got to eat healthy, babe. You’re carrying a future champion in that belly of yours. Our son needs proper nourishment.”
Oh, brother. Not again.