The roar of the crowd vibrated through the floor and settled deep in my chest. I sat in the front row at Madison Square Garden arena, my hands resting over the high curve of my stomach.
The baby was nearly eight months along now, and they seemed to be reacting to the energy of the arena, giving me a series of soft, excited pokes every time the fans erupted.
I looked around the room, and for a moment, I had to blink back tears just seeing who was sitting there with me.
To my left, my father sat in a specialized wheelchair. He was still thin, and a thick wool blanket covered his legs, but the grey, sickly color was gone from his face. He was wearing a New York Rangers hat something I never thought I would see.
Next to him, James stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the ice with
