"Sure, why?"
"I get the impression you have something on your mind," I hit the highway and we zip toward the exit to my apartment building. "Are you worried about the baby?"
"What? Oh no!" she says with a wave of dismissal. "I'm just distracted is all."
We are silent while I park in the lot at my building. My place is only ten minutes from the stadium. It's not the fanciest apartment complex, but rent in Houston is really expensive, especially inside the loop. I'm lucky I can afford it. Not all soccer players can. I'm pretty sure the rookies are all driving from at least thirty minutes away and have roommates.
"So here we are," I say, turning off the engine.
"No underground parking with a secret passcode to get in?" she jests. "I'm shocked there's not more security."