The Bad Baller Collection

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “It probably will be for a few years.”

  “Yeah, until she develops your wit,” I joke. “Then, I’m screwed.”

  “Hey,” she glares at me, “it took the better part of two decades to master this wit. You’ve got plenty of time to prepare.”

  I pause, looking between the two of them and everything else stops. Right here, sitting in front of me, is the next two decades of my life — more than that, even. That should terrify me. It does, but not in the way I’d expect.

  It terrifies me that it came so close to never existing at all. Daisy could have gone to some other bar. I could have chickened out and gone home alone that night. The condoms could have done their job. This era of my life came so close to never happening and the thought of not standing here, gazing down at my daughter and her mother, just makes me sick.

  “Daisy, I love you.”

  She pulls her attention away from the bundle in her arms and looks up at me, her eyes widening more and more with each passing, silent second.

  Finally, she smiles at me in the dark. “I love you, too.”

  I lean down and kiss her. My heart bashes against my ribs, harder than I’ve ever felt before. I rest my forehead on hers and we both sit still for a long moment together.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask her.

  “Tired,” she breathes.

  I lay down beside her on the bed and she rests against me, positioning the baby on our laps to give both of us a good look. They yawn, which just makes me do it, too. It’s been a long day for all of us.

  I take a breath, letting it all sink in and a smile stretches across my face.

  Epilogue

  Daisy

  Six Months Later

  “Smile, everybody!”

  Rose and John glance up from the head table and smile in my direction from ear-to-ear. I raise the camera, centering them in the frame before snapping another photo. Their grins don’t drop as I lower the camera, but they deserve to have permanent, etched-in smiles on their wedding day.

  Or our wedding day, I guess.

  “Eliza! Junior!” Rose waves to her friends nearby and they stand up from their chairs, rushing over to hover above their shoulders and posing for me.

  I laugh, making them hold it for longer than necessary.

  Rose leers at me. “Take the damn picture!”

  I click the shutter three times in quick succession, giving her plenty of options for later when we inevitably obsess over these.

  “All right,” I say. “I think we got it.”

  Eliza slips into Junior’s hands and he leads her toward the dance floor. Rose and John instantly follow them as a fast-paced song starts up over the speakers.

  I turn away and slink through the small crowd to the table in the corner. A three-tiered white cake sits in the center, surrounded by plates and silverware, just waiting to be carved into.

  I raise my camera at it and turn the focus.

  “You know, we hired photographers for this.”

  I glance over my shoulder at Hunter’s smirk. “I know,” I say, “but I like adding my own personal touch.”

  He stands behind me with his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo. “Really? And here I thought you were sick of taking pictures of… How did you put it? Overpriced, multi-tiered, gluten factories?”

  “Well, this is my overpriced, multi-tiered, gluten factory,” I say. “It’s different.”

  “Ahh…” He nods. “Makes sense.”

  He follows me to the head table, and I set the camera down by my chair. Before I can speak, the crowd shouts with approval and we look to the dance floor to see John whipping out a few tango-like moves on my sister. She throws her head back and screams, completely powerless as he flings her about. He dips her back and lays a kiss on her lips, making every lady in the room swoon for him.

  I laugh. “Well, that was unexpected.”

  “He’s surprisingly graceful,” Hunter notes.

  “Do you want to dance?” I ask him.

  “After that?” He wags his head back and forth. “No, thanks.”

  “Good.”

  I stare into his eyes — my husband’s eyes — and he looks me up and down. He hasn’t stopped doing that since he first saw me in my dress a few hours ago. Not that I’m surprised. I look fucking great in white.

  “Where’s Violet?” I ask.

  He points across the room at a table in the corner. Violet sits in a highchair, sandwiched between our mothers, along with the rest of the tiny humans invited to attend. Eliza and Junior’s adorable toddler, Courtney, has taken it upon herself to share crayons with Violet and the two talk among themselves in some mystery baby language.

  Hunter lays a kiss on my cheek and I smile wide. “Wanna get a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  He takes my hands and leads me toward the exit.

  “Uhh… Hunter.” I point behind us. “We have an open bar.”

  “We do,” he says. “But I know a better place.”

  We slip out of the reception hall unnoticed and I follow him through the hotel lobby. “A better place? Where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Yes, but where?”

  He exhales by the exit. “You really don’t understand the concept of a surprise, do you?”

  The bright, summer sun blinds me as we step outside, but I can easily see the wide, amused eyes of the people we pass by. I guess it’s not every day you see a bride and groom booking it down the sidewalk of downtown Hartford.

  We travel two blocks and the familiar street makes me smile. “Hunter…”

  He glances at me but doesn’t say a word.

  The stairwell is as dark as it was that night, but Hunter moves slowly to make sure I don’t trip on my dress on the way down. We reach the bottom and I scan the dimly lighted bar. It looks exactly the same, smells the same. That scratchy, old jukebox sits in the corner. All that’s missing is that old man at the edge of the bar with his crossword puzzle… and the hot bartender waving me in, of course.

  I skim the magazine articles hanging on the walls as we head toward the bar. A few of them spark memories, taking me even more back in time to that night.

  We reach the bar and I pause, locking my eyes on a familiar article framed at the end of the line.

  By now, everyone has heard the story of the woman that got hit in the head by a minor leaguer’s home run only to wake up in the hospital pregnant with his child. The Home Run Baby dominated the airwaves for weeks after the news broke. A modern-day immaculate conception tale for sports fans across the country that made Hunter Novak even more of a household name than he already was.

  The truth is far more coincidence than magic but it’s hard to argue that fate didn’t have a little something to do with it in the end.

  “We are never going to outrun that, are we?” I ask, shaking my head at it.

  Hunter slips behind the bar. “Honestly, I hope we never do.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, sliding onto the same ancient stool across from him. “Why not?”

  He withdraws two glasses from beneath the counter. “It’s our story,” he says, tossing a few ice cubes into each.

  “It’s our highly-exaggerated, slightly-fictionalized, story.”

  “But it’s ours.”

  I smile as he pours a whiskey sour for me. “Touché. I just think she made it sound too easy.”

  He nods and lays the glasses down between us. “I’ll drink to that.”

  We tap our drinks together before taking a quick sip.

  “Mmm…” I say. “The bar guy still knows his booze.”

  “It’s more or less a requirement when it comes to being in a relationship with you.”

  I raise a brow. “Oh, really?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what other skills does that require?”

  He licks his smiling lips. “Patience — lots of it.”

  “Well, that goes without saying.”

  “Grace and humility.” He
looks up in thought. “Stamina.”

  “Lots of it.”

  He chuckles. “All skills I look forward to honing for the rest of my days.”

  My heart beats a little faster. “I’m really happy we did this.”

  “I’m happy my old boss wasn’t too pissed off I stole that whiskey when I called him this morning.”

  “No... I mean,” I take a breath, “you and me. I always thought that relying on another person made you weak, but now I’m not so sure.”

  Hunter lowers onto his elbows with his drink in hand. “I never once thought you were weak, Daisy. A little fragile, maybe. But never weak.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “We’re all fragile,” he says. “We all have the potential to be broken, inside and out. I could shatter my hand catching a fastball at any time.”

  I wince. “Please don’t.”

  “And it broke me a little when you walked off that bus.”

  I take a drink to feel the burn. “Sorry...”

  “Don’t be. I gained a lot of respect for you then, more than I already had. You made the choice I was too scared to make.”

  “Turned out to be the wrong one, though.”

  “Everything worked out in the end.” He glances at the article on the wall. “But you’re right about one thing. She made it sound too easy. Loving you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve watched you cry. I’ve watched you struggle. I watched you endure weeks of pain to bring Violet into this world and all I could do was hold your hand. That’s not weakness, Daisy. You’re one badass bitch.”

  My throat tickles, building a lump and I fight to force it back down with a laugh. “I guess I am.”

  “And I’m a stronger man because of you.” He looks me in the eyes, unblinking. “I don’t know if I made this clear before when I stood beside you at an altar and said my vows… but I’m in. I don’t ever want you to stop challenging me.”

  A tear falls down my cheek and I brush it away. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  He smiles and refills my glass. “Good.”

  * * *

  Hunter slides the key card into the hotel room door and the light flicks from red to green. I heave a quiet breath, careful not to jolt Violet as she snoozes against my shoulder.

  Getting married is absolutely exhausting. I’m not sure which day left me more desperate for a warm, comfortable bed: this one or the day I birthed her.

  He peeks back at the two of us with soft, happy eyes before pushing the door open. As he steps inside, he holds up a quiet hand to keep me from following him and I shoot him a look. I really just want to fall into a bed right now...

  Hunter sets our suitcases down and returns to me. “I’ve been looking forward to doing this for months,” he says.

  “Doing what?”

  He reaches around me and lifts me off the floor, cradling me the same way I’m cradling our daughter. My guts instantly lurch, and I cling to Violet as he carries us both across the threshold into the hotel room, grinning wide.

  “Well, aren’t you the gentleman?” I ask, balanced in his arms.

  “It’s not every day you get to carry two beautiful ladies into a place like this.”

  He sets me down and my eyes grow wide. “Oh, wow...” I say, glancing around.

  We’ve officially graduated from cheap motel rooms on the side of the highway. The major league likes to spoil their star athletes, that’s for sure. The suite sits near the top floor, giving us a perfect view of the entire city skyline. It enters into a large sitting area with a connected bedroom. A cold bottle of champagne sits beside the bed (king-sized, naturally) and I can already feel the hot steam on my skin as I glance into the bathroom and spot the hot tub in the corner.

  I pause by the bed, noticing a large bowl full of multi-colored condoms sitting on the table with a note sticking out the top of it.

  “Where did this come from?” I ask, chuckling.

  Hunter reaches inside and pulls out the note. He reads it to himself and grins. “The team.”

  “The team?”

  “Enjoy the week off, asshole,” he reads aloud, showing me the note.

  I laugh. “I’m sensing some envy there.”

  “And lots of it.” He tosses the note back into the bowl. “I’m not sure they sent enough for us, to be honest.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they thought it’d be a challenge to get through them all.”

  I explore the rest of the suite, quickly finding the stack of wedding gifts waiting for us, along with a large bassinet in the center of the sitting area. White lace coverings with a big, red bow on top. Super expensive.

  “Ah, jeez,” I say, shaking my head as I look inside.

  Hunter lingers over my shoulder. “Ah, jeez.”

  A handwritten note sits on the tiny pillow with that instantly recognizable swishing penmanship.

  Home Run Baby 2, please.

  Love, Trisha

  “Absolutely not,” he says.

  “I agree.” I reach in and crumble up the note. “I’m keeping the crib, though.”

  He laughs and slides his suit jacket off.

  I lay Violet inside, happy that our excitement hasn’t woken her up at all. This girl has had a long day of getting tossed around to various strangers and loved ones. She’s more exhausted than any of us.

  Hunter wraps his arm around my waist. “How’s she doing?” he whispers, laying kisses on my neck.

  “Perfect, as always.”

  “Just like her mother.”

  I laugh softly and turn around to meet his lips. “One could argue that I am, in fact, wildly imperfect.”

  “And I would argue that’s what makes you perfect.”

  We kiss again, held close in each other’s embrace. He lifts me up and silently carries me toward the bedroom on the other side of the suite.

  “You look amazing in this dress,” he says, setting me down beside the bed.

  “And you can really rock a tuxedo,” I say, looking down at his shiny shoes.

  His fingers brush my collarbone. “I almost don’t even want to undress you...”

  “Oh, you better. This thing costs more than my camera.”

  He winces. “Yeah, we better take it off.”

  I spin around to present the zipper. “Slowly,” I tease.

  He licks his lips and finds the metal zipper buried between white satin. As he pulls it down, the gentle tapping tickles my spine and he kisses my neck again. I shudder with warmth, feeling his lips curl against my skin.

  The zipper reaches my lower back and Hunter slides his hands around me, pulling me closer until our bodies touch.

  “Thank you,” he whispers to me.

  I crane back to look at him. “For what?”

  “For letting me love you.” He kisses my cheek. “For being my wife.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, feeling smug.

  His lips brush against mine. “And for her.”

  I kiss him back. “I think I should be thanking you for that one.”

  “I know I’ve said it before, but...” He turns me around to face him. “You’re extraordinary.”

  “You make me extraordinary,” I point out.

  He smiles and pulls me in for a hard kiss; full of passion and need. “I love you, Daisy.”

  I grip his belt, holding him against me. “I love you, Hunter.”

  We lean against the bed and our lips never part ways as we slowly lay down together.

  He sits back and hooks his fingers inside my dress. I balance off the mattress to let him slide it off my body. He keeps his eyes on me the entire time, watching as my breasts rise and fall and he bites his lip as he reveals the curve of my hips. Hunter has always looked at me the exact same way; starting with the night we met until now. Even when I felt my body was unrecognizable, he wanted me.

  He lays the dress over the back of a nearby chair and returns to me in my white bra and panties. I sit up to take hold of his belt and he caresses my cheek as I u
nzip him. He bends over to kiss me, breathing hard as I start to pull him down with me.

  Violet cries out from the other room and smiles stretch across our faces.

  “How does she always know?” I ask.

  Hunter kisses me. “Stay here. I got it.”

  “You sure?”

  He chuckles. “My bed, my rules. Remember?” His tongue taps my lips, fueling the fire in me but he slides away.

  I sit up on my elbows and watch him as he leaves me in heat alone. My ears focus, cutting out the city outside in favor of hearing him talk to his little girl.

  The crying stops within seconds and his deep voice mixes with her happy laugh.

  I stand off the bed and open the closet in the corner to find a robe hanging inside. I put it on and move quietly to the doorway to watch.

  Hunter paces slowly in front of the windows, pointing out into the world and Violet sits in his arm with wide eyes. It’s not the first view like this she’s seen on the road with us, and it won’t be the last, but she never grows tired of the flashing city lights and passing cars on the streets below.

  As for me, I never grow tired of this view either. Hunter and his little baller-ina. Daddy and his little girl. Ever since the night she was born, and I woke up to see him standing there with her in his big hands and panic in his eyes. He’s far more confident now. She’s his baby. Always will be.

  I move with soft feet toward the door and zip open my camera bag.

  Hunter senses me behind them and he smiles at me. He whispers in her little ear and Violet spins her head to look in my direction, as if she understands every word he says, and laughs.

  I snap a photo of the two of them cloaked in moonlight. Fierce and protective, as Trisha once described him.

  I set the camera down to join them by the window. Hunter lays a kiss on my forehead and I rest my head on his shoulder. Violet has already succumbed to a great yawn and she closes her blue eyes.

  We slowly rock Violet back to sleep and slink away to resume our wedding night together. Quiet as mice, we undress and pleasure each other, taking our time making this night last for as long as possible.

  Hunter pins my wrists above my head to hold me in place. I melt beneath him, widening my legs and meeting every thrust he gives me. It’s a mess of sweat and wrinkled sheets and condom wrappers around us but we don’t care.