Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2)

by Imani King

  Even if I do want to give him everything, I don’t want it to seem conditional.

  “Ok, Darius you take care of Daddy and Chikae,” I direct him, trying to keep the illusion that I am in control. I have to talk to Nick.

  He salutes. “Will do Mommy Sis,” he says back. Lord, this child. Makes me laugh every day.

  Once my dad is looking alert and everything seems secure, I beat a hasty path to the nurses’ office. I am not sure who I should talk to first. Nicholas, or them? But it would be best to talk to Nicholas with all the facts, so I figure I’ll get the scoop from the RNs and then call him.

  The nurse wastes no time directing me to the billing department. I tap my toe impatiently in the elevator. I’m feeling increasingly pressured by such a large gift. After all the stress lately, for some reason this very sweet gesture seems to be making the knot in my stomach worse.

  I knock on the door and there sits a bespectacled lady who explains to me that a nice man called Nicholas Corbett phoned and arranged to pay all of the medical costs, the room costs, and any incidentals that might add up. But I have only one question to ask her:

  “What’s the problem with the insurance?”

  She shuffles her papers and clears her throat. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but apparently the insurance card you presented had expired. We still need to treat your father of course—as his condition was serious and you were right to take him in right away—but to be clear, the insurance your father had at one time was terminated when his employment was terminated. That’s the usual process, I’m afraid.”

  My eyes widen and my breath is caught in my throat. So all my worries weren’t for nothing. Dad hadn’t been going to work, and wasn’t on some kind of leave. He was let go—maybe even fired. Suddenly I am filled with a white-hot anger.

  We’re all grieving! I want to shout. How dare you abdicate your responsibility to this family? Why leave it all on me? It’s not fair and mom wouldn’t have wanted this!

  “I see.” My voice is gravelly. I clear my throat.

  Aileen looks up, sharply. “But you don’t have anything to worry about, dear. As I said, the costs are covered by one-” she lifts up her papers again and reads the name that I don’t want to hear. “Nicholas Corbett. He was very insistent, arranged that everything would be taken care of. So you have nothing to worry about.” Her eyes crinkle over her glasses.

  “Yes, Nicholas.” I can’t take such a gift, I can’t. What would my mother think, if I were to just take his money?

  But he has so much money. More than anyone I’ve ever met, or known. And how can I say no? I’m not in a position to say anything. An operation like this, it could impact my whole life. I can’t afford to pay for such a thing. But can I afford to be in debt to a man who took it upon himself to pay? Without even checking it with me?

  “Thank you, Aileen,” I finally choke out through my confusion and anger.

  “My pleasure,” she says. Her eyes are warmly professional -- they don’t betray any sense of curiosity. She just straightens up the papers, smiles, and stands up. “Let me know if I can do anything else for you! We’re here for you and your family.”

  I can’t get out of the room fast enough. Even so, I am still stuck here at the hospital. I can’t leave the kids with Daddy for long, since he’s the one who needs taking care of -- and I don’t want to lean on the neighbors too much by dropping the kids off every few hours. I just have to take care of them myself.

  So for now, I’ll just leave it.

  Or text him. Maybe I will text him. My phone feels hot in my hand.

  18

  Nicholas

  "Nicholas, did you pay for my father's care? He’s been moved to a new room.”

  I’m playing with my phone when the text comes through. Shoot, I didn't mean for that to happen so quickly. I thought I’d be able to explain what was going on before she could get blindsided by my decision. I hope she’s not angry.

  "Perhaps we should meet up and talk about it?" I suggest.

  "I really wish you had have discussed it with me beforehand," says the text that comes through immediately. I can almost taste the wounded pride in her words.

  "You're right," I text back. "It was presumptuous, but I heard the nurses talking about your father's case and I felt that I should do something. Not to brag, but things are easy for me in some ways, and I don't want you to have to worry when I can help.”

  "That's very nice of you," she answers after a pause. "But you know, I don't like to be beholden to anyone, and this is a huge gift. I don't know that we as a family can accept it."

  My heart drops.

  All I want to do is make things better for her. Adisa with an A, the woman I have grown to love. Sure it happened fast but at the same time, this feeling wasn't something that I could prevent. She's shown herself to be everything I need. And because of that I want to make sure that she has everything she needs.

  "Why not?" I type tentatively, and press send.

  Suddenly I wonder if I have really messed up. She's right. I shouldn't have just stepped in without discussing it with her. She’s doing an amazing job taking care of her family. But I guess on some level I knew that she wouldn't be that comfortable with taking the money, even if to me, it hardly means anything at all. Well, it means something. It means that I want her and her family to be ok, not to be broken by a matter that I can so easily fix—with only money. I know what it is like to be poor and that's something that she doesn't need to know. I want her to have everything that she requires to find herself, to be everything that she can be, and being hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt is not part of that scenario. No, it doesn’t mean anything on its own to me, the money, that is. I have enough money to last me my life and far beyond. And why should it be sitting there in some bank account, in some investment firm, when it could be doing some good.

  "It makes me uncomfortable. I am not after your money, and I can't be bought."

  My head starts to ache a bit. This isn't the reaction I had hoped for, as unrealistic as that hope may have been. I thought she understood that I respected her, even if she doesn't yet know that I also love her, need her. Want her.

  "Of course not and there's no way I would ever think that. Please accept it, as it is given completely unconditionally."

  I imagine her sitting there at her phone, tossing her unruly curls, a flash in her dark eyes, biting her soft lip in consternation. All I want to do is go meet up with her and gather her in my arms.

  Oh, Adisa.

  She still hasn't answered. I see the three dots flashing, telling me she's typing, and then stopping. Flashing and stopping again. Finally I can't wait any longer, and have to take charge of this situation.

  "I'm coming to meet you. Where are you? The hospital?"

  Her answer is one word. "Yes."

  I grab my jacket, run out the door and hop into the car. It's leather cradles me as it roars into life and I take off.

  It's funny, you know, Stephanie would have just accepted this money as a matter of course. It's not that I want to continue to compare them, and I don’t even like to think about Stephanie anymore—frankly—but it's amazing how different they are as women when it comes down to it. Adisa is beautiful but she doesn't seem to care too much about things like brand names, trends, anything that might be thought of as superficial. Her house is warm, and beautiful, but worn and comfortable at the same time. It doesn’t shine with a newness but with a patina of care. When Stephanie went to decorate our place, it was all about how things looked—regardless of how they felt. I remember her one time in Texas, laughing at my brother Rowan's shoes. She was not outright telling him that adult males shouldn't wear Uggs, but at the same time, she made it clear, at least to me, that such silliness wouldn't be tolerated by her in our home. Image is everything. She was all about superficiality and I never saw it. I guess I was blinded by what I thought of as... her sophistication? She was the kind of woman that I couldn't have ever fo
und in Texas, and I suppose that was part of the exotic appeal.

  But Adisa, she is timeless. Not placeless however -- the girl's from New York, that's certain. That smart, no-nonsense shell covering a romantic soul. But she has a sense of being more of the earth, more rooted in reality.

  Maybe the kind of girl that gets offended rather than pleased when you take care of her dad's hospital bills without asking.

  Arg. I hear myself sigh heavily as I step on the gas, urging my way through traffic to the hospital. Screwing this relationship up is the last thing I want to do. But I guess I'm a typical man… the kind of man who sees a problem and wants to fix it if he can. Honestly, a couple hundred grand isn’t too terribly much to me. It’s an amount that I give away pretty often when circumstances dictate. For example, to my bro's non-profit, to a fund raiser, to buy a seat at the NYC ballet, any worthy cause that presents itself. But for most people that's not the case. And for Adisa, it's definitely not the case. She clearly doesn’t want her family to be seen as a worthy cause. Which I guess I can understand. And if she now feels obligated to me, that's a problem.

  I want her love for me to grow naturally. And that may never happen, and it might have happened already. But if by helping her family I have screwed that up, I don't know what I'm going to do.

  My phone rings its alert. Might be Adisa again but I don’t want to text with her. I want to look her in the eye. I want her to see my heart.

  19

  Adisa

  Tears are filling my eyes.

  But they're not tears of sadness, they're tears of powerlessness. Of anger. Emotions that I have felt a number of times. Emotions that tend to make me feel cornered.

  I don't want to feel that way toward Nicholas.

  Adisa, comes a voice in my head. What would you have done, if you were saddled with this debt?

  I know that voice; it's the voice of my mother. A voice that I wish I could count on, in person, right now. I miss her so much! I don't want to have to be so strong, it's too hard. I can't always be the one to take care of everyone. I need someone to take care of me.

  And that's what he wants too, says my mother's voice. That's what he's trying to do, and he's able to do it. Not too many people can say that. And he is a kind man -- a good man.

  But what is he going to expect in return? I don't know that he can be what he wants me to be. And if I can't, how am I supposed to repay him?

  You repay someone like that by living well, by thanking him, and by doing your best to care about him, and be good to him. You repay him by being yourself.

  But I don't want this to hang over our heads, I counter.

  Then don't let it. Just take it one day at a time.

  Yes, I think. Just one day at a time.

  I don't want to feel obligated to Nicholas, but to be brutally honest, I don't want to feel that way toward my father, though either. I'm not sure how long I sit outside his room in the hallway to the sounds of Chikae and Darius in his room playing on the floor by his bed, but I know it’s a while.

  The ding of the elevator's arrival rouses me from my reverie, and I look up. Out comes a breathless Nicholas, looking around a bit wildly. Then he sees me, and his lips press together and his head tilts to the side. The mere sight of him makes my heart jump.

  "Adisa," he says, voice a little hoarse.

  I don't say anything, I just go up to him and wrap my arms around him. I can feel the muscles in his back soften a little as he envelops me into his embrace, and I am surrounded by him, the softness of his flannel shirt, the woodiness of his scent, the feeling of being, well, I'll say it. Being loved. I can breathe again.

  "Oh Adisa, I'm really sorry," he murmurs into my curls. "I should have asked you if it was all right to pay that kind of money for your father. But I just wanted to help you so badly."

  "It was very generous of you," I say. I tilt my head back, and look into his blue eyes, seeing tiny flecks of gold in them in the light of the hospital waiting room. "It was very kind."

  "That's all I wanted, that's all I need for you to say," He says. “I don’t need anything more. I just want to help you, to be there for you, that’s all.”

  I clear my throat.

  "Not everything," I say. "Thank you Nicholas, from the bottom of my heart."

  "You're welcome," he says, his hand coming under my chin and tilting it up further. He leans down and aims to kiss my cheek, but the magnetism between us makes me turn my head so our lips meet, and the feeling in my heart is aflame. Where is my resolve? It all melts away as I see the care and concern in his eyes. It does feel like he wants the best for me. It feels like he isn't trying to use his money as some kind of manipulation tactic. It feels good. It feels like love.

  As I pull away from him gently, I look at his soft chambray shirt, the blue close to the blue of his loving eyes, the dusting of hair at the top of his shirt collar, the little pearl buttons closing the soft fabric at his neck. I just want to fall into him and let him take me away.

  Why don't you, I hear in my mother's voice.

  I want to, I answer her silently.

  His arms tighten around me as I let my head rest against the soft warmth of his chest, the gentle rise and fall of his pectoral muscles as he breathes. The thud of his heart beating, a little faster now. The room falls away from my mind, and I feel a sense of... peace. Of course there's excitement to be this close to him, and if we weren't in the hospital I wouldn't be able to hold myself back. But here, it just seems like it's just us, and everything is going to be all right. Daddy's going to be all right. The kids are going to be all right.

  And I'm not sure if I dare to believe it, but I think that Nicholas and I are going to be all right as well.

  "How are you holding up?" Nicholas' voice breaks the silence and I can not only hear it but feel the rumbles through his chest.

  I pull away a little and look up at him. "Up and down, to be honest."

  "Well that's completely understandable." His arms tighten around me once more and he kisses my forehead. "And how's your dad?"

  "He's enjoying the room," I say. "Thank you. It’s much nicer, with a view and a TV, so he can watch his programs in peace. Also the kids are in there playing, so they're making the most of it as well."

  He grins, and I melt at the flash of his white teeth and the warmth of his smile. "Glad to hear it." The Texas is in his voice now so I know that he is feeling comfortable with me again. "Look I want to say again, I'm really sorry that I didn't clear it with you that I was going to take care of your father's bills. Maybe it was because I knew you might say no, and I really wanted to make sure you were going to be ok. I have the means to do it. I'm not trying to brag here, but when I can see a problem for someone I care about, and I know that it can be fixed with money, I want to take care of it. And money may not make sure that your dad gets better, but it sure can help him feel more comfortable and take some pressure off of you along the way."

  "I do know that, and I really do want to thank you. But I can't say it doesn't worry me at all," I grab his hand and leading him back to the melamine chairs outside my dad's room. We sit, and he puts his arm around me. "We're just learning what is between us, you and I, and I care about you. I think you care about me too, and I don't want to put any pressure on that."

  "There isn't pressure, Adisa," he says, as he plays with my fingers. "Really. I knew that I wanted to do this, and the only reason why is that I want you to be able to relax a bit and concentrate on your own life, and to be able to make it all it can be. If I were to stress you out by pressuring you for this or that, in any way, that would really defeat the purpose of what I was trying to do. Which was to help."

  "I guess that makes sense." I watch his tanned hand play with my darker skinned one, and can't help but admire the muscles in his forearms which are deliciously revealed by the rolled-up cuffs of his chambray shirt. "But if that's so, we need to keep our lines of communication open."

  "I know," Nicholas says. "And to be hones
t, nothing would make me happier than to keep the lines of communication open with you, Adisa."

  I think we are just about to kiss, but then I hear a clatter in my dad's room, and have to go open the door to investigate. Chikae is crying. Her doll is upside down with her head stuck in a glass of water, and my dad's tray is on the floor. He looks at me helplessly.

  "Hi there Addy," he says. "I think it might be time I get some rest now."

  "Sure dad, no problem." Poor man. I’ve left him alone too long. Still, they’re his children and they need him. So am I, so do I for that matter. I quickly grab the kids coats and scarves and start to dress Chikae as Darius pulls his on.

  “Darius dumped my doll in Daddy’s water,” she says, eyes flashing and wet.

  “Darius, don’t do that,” I say mechanically as I do up the zipper of his coat.

  "What's Boss doing here?" He says, catching a glimpse of Nicholas waiting in the hallway.

  "He came to visit me, nothing you need to worry about." After I run over to give my dad a kiss goodbye and an assurance that I would be back the next day, I grab the little ones by the hand and almost drag them out of the room. Chikae clutches her sopping doll and wipes her tears.

  "Love you dad," I call, as I'm shutting the door, and the kids blow kisses.

  "Boss Man!” Darius runs up to Nicholas. "What are you doing here? You look funny. Did you pay for my daddy’s room? Are you in love with my sister or something?"

  "Hush now, Dar," I shush him and we get to the elevator, my cheeks flaming.

  "Are you two going to get married and have babies and live happily ever after?" Chikae asks as Darius pushes the elevator button.

  "This is going to be a fun elevator ride," Nicholas turns to me and says, with a twinkle in his eye.

  "That's one way to describe it..." I barrel into the open door, completely mortified, and the kids run in as well. Hopefully they'll drop this soon, but the mirrors on all sides make me feel even more in the spotlight than I did before.