False Start: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

By the middle of October, I finally didn’t feel like death.

The first trimester of my unexpected pregnancy had hit me hard. Between the constant nausea — that lasted all day, by the way, not just in the morning — and the extreme fatigue, it was like walking in a fog I just couldn’t wait to find the end of.

Add in the fact that I hadn’t been working, we’d moved across town, and things were slowly progressing in the court case against Marshall, and you could say I didn’t even feel like a real human. Nothing in my life was the same. Everything was chaos.

And yet, somehow, I’d never felt happier in my life.

Because I had Kyle.

Kyle, who doted on me every day as if he didn’t have enough on his plate with a full-time job as a professional athlete and the start of his very first season in the NFL.

Kyle, who massaged my back and took completely over cooking, hiring a chef to do it on the nights he couldn’t.

Kyle, who wouldn’t let me lift a finger during the move, who was reading expecting father books and trying every nausea cure under the sun that he could find.

Kyle, who spent all his free time that wasn’t devoted to making sure I was okay, to caring for my son, making sure he was loving his new school and settling into his new neighborhood and home.

This man had taken every notion of what I thought a husband was and fast-pitched it out the window.

We weren’t even married yet, and he was illustrating what I thought was just a fairytale. He was my partner. He wasn’t just leaving me to endure this alone. He was there, every step of the way, doing everything in his power to make the first trimester suck less.

I was thankful for the fact that I didn’t feel like throwing up or passing out on the first soft surface I could find to get horizontal on as Sebastian and I made our way up to the club level of Lumen Field. Kyle had refused for me to sit anywhere but in a suite for our first game — especially in my condition. Apparently, he and a few of his teammates had reserved a suite together, which had Kyle assuring me I would be welcomed by wives and families.

I didn’t feel that comforted.

I was over the moon to finally be able to watch a game live. I was thrilled to have Sebastian with me, whose eyes were so wide as we walked through the stadium that I thought they were going to pop out of his head. He’d been glued to the TV during every game of the season, teaching himself the game and asking Kyle question after question when he got home. He was full-on obsessed.

I had a feeling it was a little more because of the man who played the game than the actual game itself.

But still, this was out of my comfort zone. In a matter of months, I’d gone from a struggling single mom real estate agent with approximately twelve outfits in my closet, to the fiancée of an NFL rookie tight end with more money than God.

I didn’t feel natural walking into that suite after showing our credentials. I didn’t feel like we belonged as we slipped inside the room filled with alcohol and food and chattering friends and family members of the team. I didn’t feel confident as we made our way directly to the seats in front of the tall windows overlooking the field, nor as I tucked my purse under the seat and held my son’s hand as he pressed up onto his toes and stuck his nose to the glass to watch the players warm up.

Even as my heart raced with the discomfort, I smiled in excitement, too.

Especially when Sebastian pointed near the end zone and said, “There he is!”

And there he was.

Kyle Robbins, number eighty-two on the field and number one in my heart.

He looked more focused than I’d ever seen him as he ran drills along with his team. His tall, muscular frame crouched low, feet moving him side to side in quick steps like a crab before he transitioned to the next drill. He was explosive, working his legs in a quick sprint in place before he’d take off down the field a bit and cut left or right. Then, he was jumping straight up into the air in a feat of magic, soaring impossibly high for someone as tall and heavy as he was.

Sebastian and I watched him like he was the only player on that field.

Kyle’s focus was on his teammates and the drills he was running, and I could tell from how he wasn’t even clowning around with his teammates that he was getting in the zone. He loved to fool around. He loved to make jokes and lighten the mood in any room — especially when it came to his team.

But this was game time, and if he was serious about nothing else, he was serious about this.

The clock counted down to kick off, and when there were only about ten minutes left, Kyle started jogging toward the tunnel that led to the team locker rooms.

Only then did his eyes skate up to the suite.

My stomach fluttered with butterflies instead of nausea when I saw the smirk climb on his lips, and he lifted a navy-blue glove-covered hand to wave at us.

Sebastian lost his mind.

“He sees us! He waved to us!” Sebastian jumped up and down and waved with both hands like Kyle was a celebrity.

I don’t think I truly realized, until that very moment, that he actually was.

The game began after the national anthem was sung, and I felt my nerves disappear more and more as the minutes ticked by.

Well, at least, the nerves about me.

Now, all my energy was focused on being nervous for Kyle. I wanted him to win. I wanted him to do well. But more than anything, I didn’t want him to get hurt.

And every time a Philadelphia Eagles player crashed into him or slammed him to the ground, I had to fight to stop myself from shrieking.

Sebastian noticed how I’d grip his hand a little too tight, though, or how I was picking at the skin on my lips as I waited for Kyle to pop back up after each play. Sometime before the end of the first quarter, my son smiled at me, stepping between me and the window view of the field.

“He’s okay, Mom,” he assured me, his voice lilting in a way that told me he was almost embarrassed that I was even worried, as if I were being silly to think he might get hurt by these three-hundred-pound men tackling him to the ground. “This is his job. It’s what he does. He’s got this.”

I blew out a breath and nodded, smiling at my son who was far too smart for his own good before tickling him until he moved out of my way. The first quarter ended with the Eagles ahead seven to zero, and I felt like I was cracking ice off my body as I stood and made my way to get some food and water from the suite’s bar for me and Sebastian.

I was plating some hamburger sliders and chicken tenders — which blessedly didn’t make me want to hurl — when a familiar face strode through the suite entrance.

“Giana?”

I couldn’t hide the surprise or joy in my voice as I set my plate aside just in time to receive a fierce hug from Kyle’s curly-haired friend and agent. She squeezed me so tightly, I felt every inch of her now rather large baby bump, and she beamed up at me when we broke away, her smile dazzling.

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to get up here,” she said. “Between the pre-game interviews, fielding requests for meetings with Kyle from possible sponsors, and the fact that I waddle more than walk these days…” She shook her head, still grinning. “But it looks like you’re settled in! Is everyone being nice?”

“Yes,” I answered, which wasn’t a lie. A few of the wives had come to introduce themselves, and no one had been anything but kind. “I’ll admit that Sebastian and I are sticking to ourselves, though.”

“Perfectly understandable. It’s all new, after all,” Giana said, and she waved to where Sebastian was behind us in the seats.

My son looked ready to climb over those seats to get to the food I was holding hostage.

I told Giana I’d be right back, plated a hearty portion of veggies and fruits along with his slider and nuggets, and delivered it all to him along with a water bottle. Once he was set up and watching the second quarter, I rejoined Giana at one of the cocktail tables.

“Do you want to sit?” I offered, noting how she was rubbing her lower back.

She waved me off. “Trust me — nothing feels comfortable right now. Sitting, standing, walking, lying down. It all sucks. Of course, you know this already,” she added with a smile.

“How far along are you?”

“Thirty-one weeks.”

I let out a low whistle. “Won’t be long now.”

“I’m ready. Don’t get me wrong, being pregnant has been cooler than I imagined it would be. I’m cute as hell with this little bump,” she added, smoothing her hands over her stomach. “But I’m ready for this baby to be on the outside. It’s Clay’s turn to carry them around for a while.”

I chuckled. “I bet you can’t wait to meet them.”

Giana softened at that. “You have no idea. Well, I guess you do, actually.” She shook her head. “I hope this little boy or girl has his eyes. And his smile.” She paused. “But I truly hope they do not have his smart-ass attitude, or I’m in trouble.”

A roar broke out on the field, and Giana and I turned to the television screens just in time to see the end of a monster run from the Seahawks. We were within twenty yards of scoring now, and Giana and I moved to stand behind the seats so we could watch the field through the glass.

Two plays later, it was touchdown, Seattle Seahawks, and the game was tied.

I ran down to celebrate with Sebastian, made sure he was okay, and then kept my eyes on him as I rejoined Giana. There was a family sitting in the seats next to where Sebastian was, and another little boy maybe a few years older than him was pointing to the field and explaining things just the way Kyle had been. Sebastian was all ears, eager to learn like always.

God, I loved him.

I absentmindedly ran a hand over my stomach, which looked more like bloat than anything else right now.

Sebastian would be a big brother soon, and it filled my heart just as it made my eyes brim with tears.

“Okay, I need to get back down there before halftime,” Giana said once the noise had died down a bit. “But the whole reason I came up here was to see how you are doing.”

She smiled softly, petting my arm.

“I’m…” I blew out a breath. “Wow, I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“It’s been a bit of a whirlwind, hasn’t it?”

I nodded. “One summer, and my life has completely changed. I’m not sure what all Kyle has told you…”

Giana held her hands up. “He hasn’t said much, and I don’t pry. I just ask that he lets me know things that I need to know as his agent and publicist. But obviously, I know that you two just reconnected, and that not even two months later he was asking all of us to get on a plane to help him pull off a proposal.” She raised a brow. “I never thought I’d see Kyle Robbins weak for anyone, but girl, he is feeble for you.”

My cheeks ran hot as I looked down at the floor.

Then, I filled her in on everything Kyle hadn’t.

Marshall. The move. The wedding we hadn’t even started planning yet.

The Big Secret News.

Giana did all she could to not react, to play it cool and not cause a scene, but when I revealed that I was pregnant, she couldn’t help herself.

She burst into tears, clinging to me and proving yet again that her size didn’t mean shit when it came to the hugs that girl could give.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered when she finally released me, swiping at her face. “These damned hormones. I cry at every car commercial and country song now, too.”

“Relatable,” I said, and we laughed together, her squeezing my hands in hers.

“Ugh, okay, I really have to go,” she said, sneaking a peek at the play clock. “But we will all get together soon. And I’m adding you to the weekly Zoom call with the girls. We have so much to talk about. And so much to plan!”

I chuckled, my heart warming with the most unfamiliar sensation.

It had been a long time since I’d had a group of girlfriends.

“Congratulations, by the way,” she whispered. “I can’t wait for Kyle’s Daddy era.”

“Thank you, G. And thanks for not being… thanks for not judging our situation.”

She frowned. “Judging? Why on earth would I?”

I shrugged. “I mean, let’s be honest… it is all a bit crazy.”

At that, Giana sighed and smiled up at me like the sun beam that she was, her hands squeezing mine once more.

“All the best love stories are.”