Love Unmatched (6 page)

I would never lie to Sedona. But the thought that she cooked for me for the very first time and that she spent the whole afternoon cooking for me was more than enough reason for me to say, "Nothing, babe. It tastes delicious."

When she smiled all of her teeth flashed.  I drank my beer to wash the meatloaf down.

"Oh good," she said. "I thought I screwed up the recipe."

You did not only screw it up, you tightened the bolt and turned it into this salty shit.

She took a few bites of the meatloaf and stopped. "Hmm. This does taste good."

Were her taste buds off? I mean, you could taste the salt in this. From a mile away.

She scooped up some of the green stew and put in on my plate.

"What's this one?" I asked. I've never seen stew this color before.

She explained, "It's beef stew with spinach. I got the recipe from the internet. I know you need protein and well, spinach is good for you."

Where did the beef go? Was it inside the spinach? All I could see was green; there was no meat in this weird-looking thing.

"Oh good." I drank more of my beer. Beer made everything taste great. "So, what did you do today?"

"I cooked for most of the day," she replied. "And I was fixing some stuff in the baby's room. I know where we're going to put the crib and the playpen."

The thought of her preparing stuff for our baby always made me smile. Our baby was a gift to us. A priceless treasure created by us.

I held her hand from across the table. She could cook me a dozen of these horrible meatloaves and I would gladly eat them all if it meant that she smiled at me like this.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," I answered, and took a spoonful of the stew. Hmm, it didn't taste bad at all. It actually had potential. Maybe if she hadn't overcooked the spinach into a soup it would actually taste great.

"So tell me," she paused, her violet eyes poking fun at me. "Just how bad is it?" Her finger pointed at the meatloaf and stew.

I let out a huge sigh. Damn, she knew me so well.

I didn't answer.

"Do you want to order pizza and chicken wings?" she suggested, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Only if you want to," I said.

"Zander, babe," she said. "I don't know how you were able to eat that much of the salt-infused meatloaf. I was waiting for you to gag on it. I must have heard your mom wrong."

I barked out a laugh.

I signaled for her to sit on my lap while reaching for my phone with the other hand. Ready to call the pizza place.

She faced me as she sat on top of me. "I should be banned from the kitchen, huh?"

I touched her cheeks and said, "Babe, thank you for the effort. I really, really appreciate it. Let’s just say that I know I'm not marrying you for your cooking skills."

She laughed and gave me a big kiss.

“The life inside of me is the best gift that you could have given me.”

Sedona

Our baby took precedence in our lives. With Zander’s training and upcoming football game schedule, I made sure that I timed my prenatal visits when I was going to be in Minnesota. He wanted to go to every single prenatal visit with me. We picked an OBGYN based in New York since I would be spending most of my pregnancy there while doing my internship. Her name was Dr. Brown and she had a stellar reputation, according to Zander’s mom’s close friend. While I was in Minnesota, I had most of my blood tests and ultrasounds done at the clinic of Dr. Kimberly Gayle who was Dr. Brown’s associate.

In two days I would be flying to New York. I was more than ready to start my nursing internship. With my internship ending so close to my seventh month of pregnancy, Zander and I agreed that it would be best for me to deliver in New York once we spoke to the doctor. At my last prenatal visit, Dr. Gayle had informed us that I was suffering from anemia. Zander became really worried about this. Dr. Gayle reassured us that it would be okay as long as I took my iron pills. She also cautioned me that I should not be flying as much as I did, past my seven-month mark. This was the main reason as to why we were going to have our wedding in New York. I wanted it to be at a beach somewhere, but since Zander was adamant about being married before our baby was born, I concurred with having it at the New York Metropolitan Hotel. His mom had to pull some strings to reserve the date that we both wanted.

“What do you want to name our baby?” I asked. I was resting my head against the top of the sofa with my legs on the chaise, half of Zander’s head cradled on my stomach. He folded his legs so he could fit his large, muscular body on the chaise. We were lounging by the large sectional couch in our Minnesota townhouse.

Baby clothes were folded neatly beside me. I had opened up all the packages that I had ordered in the past few weeks. I couldn’t stop buying all the cute baby paraphernalia. Zander’s mom also sent a package almost every week. She was obsessed with all things baby.

We both decided not to know the sex of our baby, and so the nursery was going to be painted with neutral colors. Zander sketched a few designs for the room during his free time. A few of our friends rebelled against the idea of not knowing. Nalee said she wanted to know if she could start buying pink stuff. Well, Hello Kitty baby stuff. Dom said that he wanted to buy a collection of baby baseball gloves if it was a boy. Zander was not into baseball, and Dom had an ulterior motive for saying that.

Zander and I took everything in stride. Our baby was a surprise to us. We wanted to meet him or her at the same time.

He gazed up at me. His eyes, more blue than green right now, and his cheeks slightly reddened from my pinches, with his dimple showing on his right cheek, glowed as he said, “If it’s a boy, I’d like to name him Nicholas.”

“Nicholas.” My eyes found his lips; he had such sexy lips. “That sounds like a great name.”

“Stop looking at me like that,” he warned teasingly.

“Like what?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him innocently. He placed a hand over my eyes. Zander thought that the fluttering of eyelashes as a flirting mechanism was ridiculous.

“You want a repeat performance of what happened in the kitchen twenty minutes ago?” His voice was getting husky. I was getting wet thinking about it.

I gulped. “Are you complaining
now
?” A few minutes ago he was begging me to finish him off.

The thought of kneeling down in front of him until he spread me wide and open on top of our birch dining table brought another pool of wetness inside my panties.

As much as I wanted to, I was feeling a bit tired.

I pushed those lustful thoughts away, saving them for tonight. “What if it’s a girl?” I inquired, my hand brushed lightly against his hair.

“Lily? Sofia? Emma?” he suggested. I liked those names; they sounded feminine and sweet.

“Babe, you know how celebrities combine names?” I thought out loud. “What if we combined our names and make a new one?”

“Okay, like what?” His tone was mischievous as his eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Well, if you combine our names Zander and Sedona, and we have a girl, we could name her Zedona.” I chuckled.

He let out a big laugh. He almost fell off the couch. He had to sit up to hold his stomach in.

“You’re a genius babe. Freakin’ hilarious!”

He pushed up on his elbow and nestled my head against his shoulder. “I guess we’ll know when we meet him or her.”

“I guess so,” I admitted. I couldn’t wait to meet our baby.

“You give rest to my weary soul and calm my deepest fears.”

Zander

NFA training camp was hell. And I fucking loved it.

Today Coach Benson had us run through scrimmages the whole morning. It was now
three in the afternoon and we were still running plays.

I’ve been playing football for God-knows-how-long. I know every muscle in my body that has been sore, bruised, and battered to the point of mutilation. The squats, the sprints, the drills? All of those were designed to develop and maintain our agility, strength, and quickness so that we could outlast our opponents. Those did not bother me one bit. I grew up pushing my physical limitations. What bothered me was that on the muggiest day in Minnesota, while we had our practice at a local college’s football training grounds, some of my teammates were acting like total bitches.

It was normal to feel upset about a friend or a teammate being traded for another team. I understood that. If the day came when either John or I were traded to another team I would also be sad. But I would not bitch and sulk about it to every fucking guy on the team, which was what Stock Vedder was doing right now.

Stock Vedder was a four-year veteran wide receiver for the Minnesota Fox. I had his stats memorized. It was my job as a quarterback to learn how my teammates were doing, what their strengths and weaknesses were. Vedder averaged 85.3 yards per game. Last season, he had 1365 yards, 80 catches, and 10 touchdowns.  There was no doubt that he was an asset to the team. To me, he was an asshole.

His close friend, Trent Boulders, was the quarterback whom I had replaced. Boulders had been traded to the Denver Mountaineers and Vedder took it out on me personally. Before practice today, he called me
pretty boy
a couple of times in the locker room. I just ignored him. I’ve been around all sorts of egos in football. This game was pure testosterone. No room for girly shit. It was all about sweat, swearing, and in-your-face insults. The best way to deal with an insult and petty bickering was to ignore it. As long as he caught the ball on the field I could leave whatever issues he had with me off of it.

“Coach, your new quarterback doesn’t know shit,” I heard Vedder complaining to Coach Benson on the sidelines. I was supposed to throw the ball to Vedder. I mistook the play as a running play and handed it off to Shavon Jenkins. It was my fault. My other two faults were that I overthrew the ball at one time, and the other I got sacked by the defense because I held on to the ball too long. I was not in my element. Maybe it was the new surroundings, the new team, or all the new shit.
Fuck
. I needed to get in my zone. Fast. Our first game was in a week.

Coach Benson said something to Vedder. Vedder threw me a smug look before he jogged off to the sidelines and talked with the other guys. I sat on the bench and hung my head low with my fingers grabbing at my hair in frustration. I couldn’t wait to get home and video chat with Sedona. She has been in New York for a week and a half now. I needed to hear her voice and see her face right now.

“Zander, let’s talk in twenty,” Coach Benson ordered. I raised my head and nodded.

After taking a quick shower I walked into Coach’s room.

“How’s it going?” was his first question. He was an unassuming guy. The desk in his office had a picture of his wife and two children. Folders were piled on top of his desk and a chalkboard was on the wall, filled with offensive and defensive plays.

“Okay,” I said, meeting his eyes.

“It’s a different ballgame in the NFA than in college, huh?” His dark eyes were analyzing, gauging my reaction.

“Yes, very different.”

“You’re a good quarterback, Zander,” he started. “That’s why you’re the number one pick. In time you’ll probably become one of the best there is. Right now though, I can see that you’re struggling, you’re not in rhythm and you’re not feeling the turf.”

“I feel the turf,” I replied.
What I’m not feeling are my teammates
.