Vegas Aces: The Wide Receiver Complete Series

CHAPTER 31 TESSA

“Can you tell?” I ask. I squint as I stare into the full-length mirror in my bedroom. I chose a long-sleeve red dress with a billowing skirt and a wide black belt around the waist, a perfect holiday party dress even though I’m not much in the partying mood these days.

And I won’t even have the opportunity to get drunk tonight given my condition .

Sara shakes her head. “Not at all.”

I can’t tell if she’s being honest or just saying that to make me feel better. I feel bloated and huge all the time, but Sara tries to convince me nobody can tell except me. I probably wouldn’t be quite as self-conscious about it if I wasn’t heading to a party the man who knocked me up will also be attending…with his wife.

Meanwhile, I don’t even have a date.

“Maybe I should just stay home,” I suggest. “I could fake an illness.”

“You’re coming with, and you’re rocking the hell out of it. Okay?” She looks at me pointedly in the mirror, but the effect is lost considering only one eye has shadow on it. She turns back to the mirror to do the other eye. “Shane and I will be there right by your side.”

“Right,” I say flatly. “I’ll be right beside you two. The pregnant third wheel.”

“Stop it, Tessa. You are not a third wheel.”

I press my lips together. I hate feeling sorry for myself. There were two people involved in getting me to the place where I am today, and I was definitely one of them. I made the choice not to “take care of it,” as Dr. Foster demanded, and so I’m alone and feeling this way because of my own actions.

Still…I think it might be okay to feel a little sorry for myself once in a while, particularly given the extreme range of emotions that continue to plow into me.

“Have you decided what you’re doing for Christmas yet?” I ask, changing the subject.

She sighs. I guess it’s still a sore subject.

“Shane wants to take me to dinner Christmas Eve but my family has Christmas Eve traditions.” She shrugs. “It’s just hard making everyone happy.”

My eyes edge over to hers in the mirror. “You don’t think…” I trail off.

“What?” she asks, setting down her eye shadow.

“Do you think he’s going to propose?” I pick up some lipstick and inspect the color.

She stares at me in the mirror for a beat. “Oh my God. He’s going to propose!”

“You seriously didn’t piece that one together?” I ask. “I feel like you’ve been expecting it at every momentous occasion for the last year and a half.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “I’ve been so busy trying to get everyone’s presents ordered and wrapped and with work being busy and then worrying about you…it just didn’t dawn on me, I guess.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sara. Seriously. I’ve got this.” I reach over and squeeze her arm.

“I know you do,” she says softly.

We finish getting ready just in time for Shane’s arrival, and then we head to the Historia Ristorante for the holiday party. When we arrive, we’re led back to a private banquet room. The narrow side of the room features bookcases filled with wine bottles and a large bay window with a table big enough to seat everyone who will be attending tonight’s party. The other side of the room is wider and holds a dance floor and an open bar.

Paul and Marsha stand by the door greeting their guests and directing us toward the bar. The waitstaff moves around the room holding trays filled with appetizers. Sara and I greet everyone with hugs, and a bubble of sadness forms in the pit of my stomach.

The further along in this pregnancy I move, the more I realize I can’t stay here. I can’t keep working at Lakeshore with these people who have become family to me.

Not when the man who knocked me up walks through that office four days a week. Not when I have to lie to everyone about who the father of this baby is.

It isn’t fair. I’ve been working there longer, but he’s the one who gets to stay.

I glance over at the doorway where Paul and Marsha are both laughing at something Gayle, one of the medical techs, is saying at their greeting.

I’m giving up too easily, maybe, but I’m doing it for them. They deserve all the success in the world, and Cam winning this award and sharing his grant money with Lakeshore Pediatrics is a key to that success.

I’ll step aside for them. For myself.

For this baby.

But not for Cameron Foster.

And speak of the devil, he walks in behind Gayle and her husband.

On his arm is a beautiful blonde woman. She smiles in a way that tells me she’s happy to be here with her husband with the kids back at home, probably with a babysitter or maybe a grandparent or aunt or uncle.

It also tells me she’s oblivious to who her husband really is, and my stomach twists. I feel guilty for something I had no knowledge of. Is it still wrong if I didn’t know?

Of course it is.

I can’t be here. I can’t stay at this party watching Cam introduce Paul and Marsha to his wife as I stand across the room growing his baby.

He glances away from Paul, and his eyes meet mine across the room. His harden, almost as a warning, while mine fill with tears.

Sara follows my gaze. She reaches over and squeezes my arm, and his eyes drop to her hand. Recognition dawns, and he knows I told her.

Good.

I hope he’s worried his little secret is going to get out.

I hope he loses sleep at night.

I still think his wife deserves to know…but not at the expense of Paul getting everything he deserves first.

I think of my own mother. She was cheated on. She deserved to know, and she said that she did know. I’m sure Christine has some intrinsic knowledge about what her husband is doing. She couldn’t really be that blind to it, could she?

Stupid question coming from the girl who didn’t even know he was married.

I don’t want to hurt Cam’s wife. She’s the innocent bystander in all of this. He’s the one who should be honest with her.

Besides, I have my own focus. I already love this baby fiercely, and I will do whatever it takes to protect it—even if it means I need to protect it from its own father.

I turn toward the bar. “Sprite, please.”

“With a lime,” Sara adds. She glances at me. “It looks more alcoholic that way.”

We avoid Cam as we mingle, and just before we take our seats for dinner, the baby seems to kick my bladder. I head to the bathroom to take care of things, and as I’m exiting the bathroom to wash my hands, the door opens. I glance in the mirror to see who it is, and to my surprise…it’s Cam’s wife.

I keep my eyes down on my hands, scrubbing them like I’m heading into surgery.

“Tessa, is it?” she says.

My eyes widen as my chest races. I look over at her while I rinse my hands. “Yes?” I play dumb, like I don’t know exactly who the fuck she is, like I haven’t had her husband inside me, like I’m not pregnant with his child.

“Christine Foster. Cameron’s wife. It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Cameron has told me so much about you.”

I turn back to my hands, my eyes widening in horror.

He has?

What, exactly, has he said about me? That he likes sliding his cock into my tight body? Or were those words reserved just for me?

“Oh?” I say, trying hard to hide the tremble from my voice. He hasn’t said a word about you or your four children , I think to myself.

“That whole situation with Logan Wesley,” she clarifies. “He’s such a sweet boy. He goes to school with my seven-year-old, Colton, and Logan’s mom and Cameron both said how great you were with him when he went in for testing.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, more than a little uncomfortable to be having a conversation at all, let alone discussing a patient.

“My husband speaks very highly of you,” she says.

I finally look up at her, and when our eyes meet, I get the sense that she knows.

“Thank you,” I say a little louder. I’m confused what I’m supposed to do here as her eyes move back to mine and an awkward beat of silence engulfs the room.

She clears her throat as she glances toward the bathroom, and she sees we’re alone. She raises a brow at me. “I’ll thank you kindly to keep your hands off him.”

“Excuse me?” I say.

I’m not about to argue with Cam’s wife about what happened, but he came onto me first. It sounds so childish as the words dart through my mind, but it’s the truth. I was attracted to him, sure, but he made the first move, and he never once mentioned his wife or kids.

“I’m not stupid, Tessa,” she says, her voice a clear warning. “I know he’s an attractive man, but he’s married. He has children.”

What exactly has he told her about me?

I’m about to ask when the door opens, cutting off our conversation. She gives me a fake smile. “Nice chatting with you, honey.”

She heads toward one of the bathroom stalls, and I stare after her for a beat before I draw in a deep breath and head back out to the party.