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Summary
Shane had planned the pregnancy down to the week.
That was the joke everyone kept making, anyway. Not that it was inaccurate.
The third trimester was supposed to land perfectly during the off season so Shane could avoid flying, avoid media appearances, avoid unnecessary stress, and ideally spend the last stretch of pregnancy resting quietly at home with his husband.
Instead, the third trimester was destroying him.
He was tired all the time. Not regular tired either. Bone-deep, miserable exhaustion that made him want to cry if he had to walk upstairs twice in one day. His back hurt. His hips hurt. His knees hurt. His ribs hurt. Sometimes his skin hurt for reason.
Or. Pregnant Shane shorts.