by Kahlen Aymes
I leaned back in the chair to study her, holding my coffee cup in my right hand. “You’ll be fine. The commentary for the interviews is mostly on the teleprompter, and Jarvis will handle most of it during the game until you get the hang of things. Don’t freak out. What game is it?” I said calmly and took a swallow of the still steaming coffee.
“Buffalo at Baltimore.” Her face twisted hopelessly. “I didn’t even know Baltimore had a professional football team. I’m feeling a bit frazzled. Some of the agents are calling for interviews and telling me all of this crap about this player or that. I can’t keep all of them straight. You were right; they’re pushy as hell.”
She was different in the work environment; not hard, exactly, but it was clear she wanted to nail her first broadcast and every one going forward. Professionalism and bitchiness were sometimes the only ways for a woman to get respect in the workplace. Notably, the beautiful ones. Even saying it in my head, it sounded ridiculous that it would still be that way, but I’d seen it many times during my professional career. Some men tended to discount a woman’s worth, thinking any successes she achieved were attained only by her looks. Even other women would profess the same thing as a sort of excuse why someone excelled over them, rather than accepting that it was skill, and skill alone, that propelled certain people over others.
“They will be, especially at first. It’s like the playground bully; they think you’re new and they can take advantage of you. Just remember that they’re always thinking of their next contract because they don’t get paid until their players do. They try to get their guys in front of the camera as much as possible. Push back hard, and they’ll learn to respect you. You,” I pointed at her, “are in control of who gets airtime, not them.” Sweetheart, my mind added.
I wished I could reach out and cover her hand with mine. She picked up another sheet of paper off of the printer.
“Didn’t Jarvis help you? He should be doing the main interviews for a few weeks to give you time to get your feet under you.”
“We haven’t talked about it, yet. Cindy said he takes Mondays off, and I haven’t seen him yet today.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair.
“Generally, it’s any players in the current news, the quarterbacks, and or the managers. What about the producer?” I asked gingerly, wondering if any of the others had told her about Janice. “Has she come down to introduce herself? I hear its Janice Walker.”
Missy’s eyes widened, and she sat back a bit in exaggerated skepticism. “Oh, God, no. Liz already warned me about her. She said she’d try to trip me up as much as possible the first time out. Like she wants me to fail.”
I sat my empty coffee cup on the corner of her desk nearest me and crossed my arms. “Leave it to her to tank a team just to put you in your place. She’s just a bitch, in general,” I admitted. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Great,” Missy huffed. “I can hardly wait.”
I could put her out of her misery by just telling her I was taking the assignment, but I decided it would be more fun to surprise her over dinner.
“You can handle her, Melissa.” I used her real name as a way to reinforce her confidence.
“Damn right, I can.”
Bam. Just like that, her confidence was solid, and she flashed a bright smile.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her and a good five seconds passed before I spoke. “Good. Now that that’s settled, I’ll get to the real reason I came down here.”
Missy stopped what she was doing and looked up. “Oh? What is it?”
“I’d like to take you out to dinner, tonight. To celebrate all of this.”
Her face took on a rosy flush, and she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “That’s… sweet of you, Jensen.”
“Well, don’t spread it around,” I teased. “So, is that a yes?”
“I’d love to, but what about Dylan?”
“Teagan’s got us covered.”
Her hand went over her heart. “Really?”
I nodded, memorizing every curve of her face. She was stunning, schoolmarm glasses and all. “So?”
“So, I’d love to. Thank you.”
That second, Jarvis showed up in the doorway of her office, his vast frame completely filling it. “Good morning!” His dark gaze roamed over both Missy and I. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Nope,” I sat up and then stood, picking up my coffee cup. “I just came in to wish her luck, Jarvis. I’m heading back upstairs, but can I see you in the hall for a minute?” My brows rose, hoping he’d get a clue that I didn’t want Missy to listen in.
“Sure. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Missy. We can go over the interviews.”
“That sounds good, Jarvis. Thank you.”
“See you later,” I nodded at the gorgeous woman behind the desk and then exited with Jarvis trailing me. A few feet from her office, I stopped to face him. “Missy is unaware that I’m taking over the assignment from Janice. Keep it under your hat, please.”
He patted my arm. “No problem, but what about the rest of the crew? They might spill the beans. Eric was almost pissing himself, he was so happy about it,” he said, grinning.
A guttural laugh burst forth. That shit was hilarious. “I’ll send out an email. If you see any of them, tell them to keep it to themselves. But, be discrete, Jarvis, okay?”
“Surprising her, huh? No problem.” His hand came down on my shoulder, and he knowingly gave it a squeeze.
I knew I had to get my ass upstairs to send out that email right away. Information traveled at the speed of technology, which was only slightly slower than the wagging tongues around here. I sure as hell hoped Cindy came up with a plausible reason why she was switching my assignment with Janice Walker’s. The last thing Missy needed were rumors about her and me. I didn’t want her standing at the station colored by any relationship hanging over her head. I wanted to cement the respect she deserved.
My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I tried to wipe the grin from my face as I headed back upstairs. Keeping my feelings to myself was going to be fucking hard.
MISSY
“You look real pretty, Miss Missy,” Remi said.
She was sitting on the vanity next to me, while Dylan was watching TV in the bedroom, as I put on the last of my make up in the bathroom. I was excited about the coming evening with Jensen. It was the first real date I’d been on in several years.
I stopped my thoughts as I stared at myself in the mirror. Jensen said to dress casually, so I had on a lightweight burgundy sweater that hugged my figure with cutouts in the shoulders paired with dark dressy jeans and high-heeled black boots.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I glanced down at her little face. “Do you want a little?” I said, holding up the clear lip-gloss I’d just put on my lips only seconds before.
“Yes, please. Does it taste good? Mommy gave me some that tasted like cotton candy.” She puckered her lips and stuck them out. I chuckled out loud; she was the sweetest little thing.
“Mmm… I think this is vanilla.” I bent over and carefully used the wand to coat her little lips in some of the shiny gloss.
Remi smacked her lips together and then turned to look in the mirror, pursing them as she admired herself. She picked up my hairbrush and began an attempt at brushing her soft curls. The brush barely connected with her hair, but she put it down and patted the silky waves like it was a professional job.
Oh, my God! She was so adorable I could hardly stand it.
“What do girls need all that glop for?” Dylan asked, who was now standing in the bathroom doorway. He was holding a soccer ball in both hands. Chase worked with him during the past few days, and he took a real interest in the sport. I was concerned Chase would start to become annoyed with how much Dylan wanted to play and learn, but he had a real passion for the game and seemed unperturbed by Dylan’s bugging. The two of them became immersed, and Monday night when I’d returned home from the station, Teagan was making dinner in the kitc
hen, and both of the kids were in the backyard with Chase.
Now, Remi turned to look at Dylan, taking in his disgruntled expression and raising an eyebrow. “Because princes like princesses to look pretty.” Her answer was matter-of-fact, and then she scowled at my son. “Don’t you know anything?”
I looked between the two children, both of them precocious, with their own personalities.
“Who said you’re a princess, anyway?” Dylan asked, annoyed.
“My daddy, that’s who,” Remi answered.
Dylan grunted and then huffed. “He’s your dad. He hasta!”
“Someday you’re gonna wanna be a prince for me and I won’t let ya!” Remi’s brow furrowed in a frown, and her lower lip stuck out in a pout.
I lifted her down from the counter and then got down on my haunches and smoothed her hair. “You look beautiful. Any prince would be happy to dance with you.”
“Come on, kids! The pizza is ready!” Teagan called from the foot of the stairs, thankfully heading off a tiff between the kids.
“Pizza!” Remi was excited and took off like a shot, but Dylan hung behind. He looked sad and made no move to follow the little girl out.
Maybe he was sad I was going out, or perhaps he was jealous that I’d just been primping with Remi.
“Hey, sport,” I said, sliding an arm around his shoulders and giving him a little squeeze. “Do you want me to comb this for you?”
“Nah.” Disappointment laced his voice as he shrugged. He wouldn’t meet my eyes and instead was concentrating on the black and white ball.
I put my hands on both of his shoulders and turned him around and gave a gentle nudge until we were both standing in my bedroom. I bent and lifted Dylan into my arms and then sat down on the bed with him on my lap. “Wanna tell me what’s bugging you? Don’t you want me to go out with Jensen, tonight? Teagan has pizza, and she has a movie night all planned. She said she’d even make kettle corn.” I rubbed his back in a slow, steady rhythm. “Chase will be home later, too.”
Dylan hung his head and then shook it, sadly. I could hear him snuffling, and my heart hurt for him.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” I pushed his hair back off of his face, but it quickly fell right back into place. “I can’t fix this if I don’t know what’s wrong. Don’t you like it here?”
He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, and for the first time, he lifted his head and looked at me with sorrow-filled eyes. “No, I mean, yeah,” he said tearfully.
I pulled him close and hugged him close to me, kissing his forehead. “Then, what is it?”
“How come Remi gets to have two daddies, and I can’t even have one?”
Two fat crocodile tears tumbled from his eyes and down his cheeks, and he wiped at them with both hands. He was trying not to out-and-out cry, but his chin was trembling. My heart broke for him. Only days before I’d asked myself how I’d deal with this when it came up, never dreaming it would be so soon. “It’s not fair!” he cried.
I sighed heavily and tightened my arms around him. Dylan was barely six, and though he acted tough for his age, he had a soft heart and tender feelings. It was no wonder, considering what he’d been through with Derrick, though I wasn’t sure how much of it he remembered.
My own eyes flooded. I blinked against my tears and cleared the tightness from my throat. If only I could tell Dylan how lucky he was not to have his dad around anymore. I searched my mind for a way to talk to him about this sensitive subject.
“Well, Remi has a special situation. Chase is her biological dad and Jensen was married to Teagan, and so, I guess he’s like a stepdad; kind of like Joey’s.” I sucked in my breath, hoping he would understand. “You know how his parents got a divorce, and then his mom got married again?”
“Yeah, but Joey hates his stepdad. Jensey is like a real daddy.”
My heart flipped inside my chest. He called Teagan and Chase Miss Teagan and Mr. Chase, like I’d taught him to do as a sign of respect for adults that outside our family. But Dylan referred to Jensen in the same way that Remi did, and somehow, it felt right. Despite the short time Jensen had been in both of our lives, Dylan could sense that Jensen was doing what he could to take care of us.
I prayed that my son wouldn’t ask why Jensen was married to Remi’s mother before Chase. It was just like his little mind to figure out that real dads come first.
“You’re right,” I affirmed. What could I say? Jensen was like Remi’s real dad. I wanted to say Jensen was special, but I was terrified he’d get attached to him and then what if it didn’t work out between Jensen and me? “It’s a rare situation when real fathers are friends with stepfathers, but Chase and Jensen are, and that’s what makes Remi so lucky.”
“But, where’s my daddy?” His little voice broke and his face crumpled. “Doesn’t he love me?”
My heart, so full a second ago when I was thinking and talking about Jensen, turned stone cold when Derrick came to mind. Someone so selfish and mean should never have children. I shouldn’t be in this shitty position. Should I break my son’s heart by telling him the truth, or should I offer a white lie to spare him knowing what a bastard his father was? If he couldn’t remember the nasty details, I didn’t want to make him.
I proceeded with caution. “Do you remember him, baby?”
Dylan shook his head and relief spread through me as I held my son against me stroking his hair over and over and kissing his head.
“Well, he runs a big company, and he wasn’t home very much. I guess, he just didn’t have time to be a dad, and so I decided to take you to be with Uncle Ben.” I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Do you understand?”
“That’s why you got divorced? Cuz he didn’t want to be my dad?”
The pain in my chest exploded at Dylan’s heartbroken question. The only thing I could be thankful for was that my son didn’t seem to remember how mean he was; to both of us. “I think he wanted to be, baby, but he just didn’t know how to be the kind of father that little boys need.”
“You mean the kind who plays sports and stuff?” Dylan was less tearful now, and more curious.
No, the kind that is always there, and doesn’t hurt you, my mind screamed. The kind that loves their kids. “Mmmm… yes, and stuff,” I agreed, hoping that would end the conversation until he was older.
There was some squealing from Remi downstairs, and I knew Jensen had arrived to pick me up.
“Let’s dry your eyes and go get you some pizza. It’s rude to make Miss Teagan wait on us for dinner, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Is that Jensey?” Dylan asked, jumping off my lap. He lifted the hem of his T-shirt and wiped his eyes; the skin around them still splotchy.
“I’m sure it is.”
“I hope its pepperoni pizza.”
Knowing Teagan, she would have asked in advance what kind of pizza Dylan liked. She’d done everything she could to make us feel at home.
Dylan ran from the room and down the stairs while I stayed where I was, sitting on the bed to compose myself. I didn’t want Jensen to see me rattled. I wanted tonight to be special, and that couldn’t happen if Derrick were part of the conversation. I’d forgotten how much I hated my ex-husband. He was out of our lives, but he still caused pain. I fucking despised him.
When I walked down the stairs just a minute later, I paused to observe the scene in the landing on the first floor. Jensen was down on his haunches to get down on my son’s level and was talking to him; concern clearly etched on his handsome features. My breath caught, and I sank down on the stairs so I could watch their interaction undetected.
“Hey, buddy,” Jensen said, brushing my son’s unruly mop off his forehead. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”
Dylan was reluctant to admit he’d been crying. “Nothin’,” he replied sadly.
Jensen picked up my son with one arm and rubbed Dylan’s stomach through his shirt. I watched in awe as my son put both arms around Jensen’s neck to hug
him tight. After a second’s surprise, Jensen returned the embrace in full measure. My heart stopped beating in that second.
“Hey, I know I have a date with your mom tonight, but how about you, Remi, and I all do something together next week?”
Dylan’s head popped up from Jensen’s shoulder, and a wide grin spread out on his face. “Like go to a game or somethin’ like that?” he asked hopefully.
“I have a lot of work this weekend, but we’ll work it out the first chance I get, okay?”
“That’s awesome!” Dylan beamed.
“Now, where is everybody?” Jensen asked, giving Dylan one last squeeze.
“In the kitchen eating pizza! Let’s go!”
Jensen chuckled and set my son down. “Okay. Lead the way. Did Teagan make pepperoni? It’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too!” Dylan was looking up at Jensen like he hung the moon and Jensen reached down to cup his face.
“Let’s find out.” He nodded in the direction of the kitchen and Dylan shot off in that direction.
“Okay! Come on!”
My fingers closed around the rungs, and my forehead pressed against the railing of the banister. I closed my eyes, throat aching and willed myself not to cry as my heart bloomed. A mixture of elation and pain filled every cell in my body and in that moment, I admitted to myself that he had me.
I’d been fighting my feelings for Jensen, worried about Dylan’s. I didn’t want him to fall in love with him, too, and then for things not to work out between us. The last thing a mother wants is for her child to suffer pain, but after what I’d just seen, my heart splintered into a million pieces. Was there a better man on earth than Jensen Jeffers?
I couldn’t help the tears that fell from my eyes as I sat there struggling to compose myself. Was it possible that someone could totally change your entire life after only a few weeks? Was it possible to trust him and more importantly, with my heart?
Even without how incredible he was with Dylan, I’d been falling in love with him from the moment I sat down in front of his desk on the day I interviewed with ESPN.
