The first month away from Chris had been really hard. I thought I could handle it better, but I was completely heartbroken. When I wasn’t at work, trying to hold it all together, I was curled up on my bed with a tub of ice cream. That was, when I had enough of an appetite to eat. My brief depressive episode had left me feeling sick whenever Chris popped into my head, and I was losing weight.
Months later, I was still hurt, but at least the pain was manageable now. I could hang out with friends in the little spare time I had, and felt relatively normal.
Work kept me incredibly busy, and I was thankful for that. I got up before six every morning to get ready for work, and by the time I got home around eight, I was ready for bed. I hardly had enough time to think, so as time went on, my thoughts of Chris faded.
Well, until I found out that I was pregnant, anyway.
One night, I went out for pizza and girl talk with my friends and we were having a bit of a pissing contest about who was the most stressed at work. I mentioned that I was so stressed out and underweight that I had skipped a few periods. Why it didn’t raise the same concern that it caused my friends to hear this, I don’t know. They told me that wasn’t normal, and that I should see a doctor.
Even at that point, I hadn’t even considered that my lack of menstruation could be caused by anything other than pure exhaustion. When the doctor asked if I had engaged in any sexual relations lately, I stifled a laugh. I hadn’t so much as kissed a guy since the night four months ago when Chris and I slept together. Besides, we used a condom. Well, I thought we did, anyway.
As the lab ran my blood sample, I tried to think back to that night. I clearly remembered him pulling the condom out of his bag, but everything after that was a blur. We were both a little bit drunk. Did he use protection or not?
After what seemed like hours of waiting for my results I got a phone call. My pregnancy test came back positive. I was four months into a pregnancy, with a guy who had blocked my number in hopes of never having to speak to me again.
I immediately decided that I wanted to keep the baby. I was in no way ready to have a child, but the thought of having a tiny human floating around in my belly made me feel like this was my only option. There would be a learning curve, but I wanted to give this child the best life I could possibly give it.
The first thing I did once I got my results was to call Chris. Unsurprisingly, my number was still blocked. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t really sure if I wanted him in my child’s life. I’d rather my child be raised without a biological father than one who couldn’t be dependable. As far as ethical duties were concerned, I tried to call him. He was the one who blocked my number. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing, I sent him a private message on his Twitter account, telling him that I wanted to talk to him. No response. Then, I looked up his publicist’s number and left a message with him. Still, no response. I had done all I could do on my end.
Then, I had to do something even harder. I had to tell my dad.
He reacted almost exactly how I expected him to—by totally freaking the fuck out. I came over to the house for dinner one Sunday night, and while we watched football, I let it slip that he was going to be a grandfather.
When I told him, his face turned beet red and he stood up out of his chair like he was going to fight someone.
“Taylor,” he grunted. “Was it Chris Taylor?”
I didn’t want to cause any trouble for Chris, so I lied and said that I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know, either. I explained that I was going to raise the child on my own, and the question of who the father was just wasn’t important to me.
When my dad finally remembered to breathe again, he went on a big rant about how he’d raised me better than this and how I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. The whole time, I had to sit and nod my head. He wasn’t wrong, but there was no going back now.
It took him a few days, but he returned to overprotective dad mode, making sure that I had enough money for my baby and me. He called and texted me daily, making sure I was feeling all right, and asking if I needed anything. It was annoying, but sweet.
The rest of my pregnancy went rather smoothly. My naturally slim figure ballooned out, thanks to my little baby. Luckily, dating was the last thing on my mind. I would have time for that when my child was a little older, and hopefully, I’d have a good male role model to help me parent.
With my father’s and my friends’ support, I gave birth to a son, Michael Russell Boyd. From the moment I laid eyes on him, everything I went through became worth it. I had a new man in my life, and he was all I needed.
11
Chris
“Congratulations, Chris!” the Tiger’s owner said, bringing a cake into the locker room. “On behalf of everyone in this organization, we want to congratulate you on your five year anniversary on the team.”
I flashed a grin for the cameras in the locker room. We had just won our game, and today marked five years of being the starting quarterback for the L.A. Tigers. Life couldn’t get much better.
“Speech, speech, speech!” my teammates chanted.
“Okay, okay,” I relented. “I just want to thank everyone here for giving me the opportunity to play for the greatest team in the whole league. My time in Los Angeles has been nothing short of incredible.” I looked around the room. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s party!”
This after party was one for the record books. I stayed out until the sun came up, drinking and chatting with hot girls. Women in L.A. were spectacular, and they all wanted a piece of me. At the end of the night, I chose one lucky lady to take home. I had a cab service on speed dial and retainer, so the next morning, I could always arrange a ride home for the women who kept me company.
Wesley pounded on my front door the next morning, wondering why I had missed our meeting at the coffee shop. With my head pounding out of my skull, I dragged myself out of bed and let him in.
“What the hell, man?” he said, walking into my living room. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago. It’s one o’clock; it’s not like it’s early in the morning.”
“Sorry,” I said, plopping down on my couch. “I guess I forgot.”
“You have a busy week coming up,” he said, making a pot of coffee. “We need to talk about Alexa.”
That caught my attention. “Yes, let’s talk about Alexa.”
I met Alexa Meyer a while back at a party. She was on her way to becoming an A-list actress about the same time I was getting started with my football career. Our publicists, working for the same firm, had the brilliant idea to hook us up to become some sort of celebrity power couple. Alexa was gorgeous, but a bit of a hermit, and she wasn’t popular with the press. Since recognition gets you film roles, she needed help getting into the spotlight.
That’s where I came in. I had the media’s attention, but the team owners were a little concerned with my behavior. I had another scandal involving a girl in the front office who said that I sent her inappropriate texts during the workday. In the end, I just had to give her a small sum of money to stop telling her story, and then that all went away.
But, that was my first strike of sorts. I needed to make sure I wasn’t going to get into trouble, or at the very least, make me more likeable to the public. That’s where Alexa Meyer came in. We both needed to even out our balance of home and public life, so our publicists decided to make us a couple.
“I’ve arranged for the two of you to have a romantic meal at Le Chat on Sunday night, after your game. Your reservation is at seven, so I called some photographers to be waiting outside for the two of you. You can expect to see your picture in the magazines a day or so after that. If anyone asks if you’re a couple, you can be all coy and cute if you like, but you must give an affirmative answer.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“And then,” he continued, “you must keep up appearances as a couple. I don’t know how you feel about Alexa, but I’ve heard that she thi
nks you’re cute. Maybe you can make things work.”
“Maybe.”
“You also have a club appearance scheduled for Thursday night, sometime around midnight. Please be punctual this time. You can bring whomever you like, but make sure nothing too scandalous happens.”
“Deal. I always like to get paid for partying. Got anything else?”
“We’re working on some bigger endorsement deals with the marketing department. Hopefully, we’ll have something big by next season.”
“Is there anything that I need to do?”
“Just focus on your game, and try to stay out of trouble. The big companies need someone who can be a role model for young people.”
“I’m not great with young people,” I said.
“I know. Just live your life, and I’ll be there to spin the stories the way we want.”
“Cool. Thanks, Wesley.”
“No problem. How are you feeling about next week’s matchup?”
“I’m ready. You just wait, I’m going to put up big numbers.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I have to go, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“See you,” I said, as Wesley let himself out.
I grabbed two cups and filled one with coffee and the other with water. I chugged both and sat back for a moment. I was weirdly nervous to be in a relationship, publicity stunt or not, with a famous actress. I kind of knew her, but not in a way that a boyfriend should know his girlfriend. Would we get physical, or would hanging out mean spending time in the same house, but not talking?
I guess only time would tell. I got in my car and headed toward the gym for my workout. I needed a good sweat to clear my body of the toxins I’d filled it with the night before.
On Sunday morning, I was ready to get out on the field and play, and I really was not looking forward to my big announcement at the restaurant.
When I took to the field with my team, I heard the roar of the crowd that always reminded me why I do the things I do. I loved the sport, and I wanted to play as long as I could.
The opposing team had a decent defense, so it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk like some weeks were. I had ten completions in the first half alone, so things were going all right for me. We won the game by fourteen points, and I had the rest of the afternoon to talk myself into going to Le Chat.
After the game, the team went to the sidelines to meet the fans, like we did at a lot of home games. Children liked to get our autographs, and while I wasn’t great with children, I thought it was pretty cool that they got so excited to meet us. We only had to do about a half an hour of meet and greet, and then we would retreat into the locker room.
I looked up into the crowd to wave at the adoring fans, and I saw a face I never thought I’d see again.
Sitting with a young boy beside her, was Natalie Boyd.
I dropped my helmet on the ground out of shock. An equipment manager took it back to the locker room, giving me a confused look.
After five years of hearing nothing from Natalie, a bunch of memories started rushing back. I remembered how sweet and innocent she was, and how good her long, silky hair smelled. I remembered the watch I bought for her, and how I thought I could get into a committed relationship with her.
I desperately wanted her to come down to the sideline to talk to me. I wanted to know what she was doing, after all this time.
I was also terrified that her father still had issues with me. Enough time had passed that it shouldn’t be an issue, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
And then there was that kid. Obviously, she didn’t have the kid when we were together. Was he her son, or was he a nephew? If he was her son, who did she end up with? Did he care about her the same way that I did?
I watched as they walked up the stairs of the stadium and disappeared from view. Maybe I’d never know.
I had long deleted her number from my phone, and I wasn’t sure how to get a hold of her. I tried to follow her on social media, but one by one, her accounts disappeared. She became a mystery I thought about on occasion.
I searched the stadium for Wesley. I needed him to track her down, as soon as possible.
“Hey, Wes,” I shouted over the crowd noise. “I need you to get a phone number or an address for me.”
“Sure thing. Who is it?”
“Natalie Boyd.”
He screwed up his face like he was trying to remember. Then it clicked.
“No.”
“What am I paying you for?”
“Is her old man still out for your blood?”
“I don’t know. I’m not going to get back with her. I just want to talk to her. I’ve been wondering for years about what happened to her. I need a little closure.”
“Fine,” he said. “But don’t forget, you have a hot date tonight. Dress up, and make sure you’re on time.”
“Okay, okay,” I said hurriedly. “But try to get me that info as soon as possible.”
I went through the motions at the meet and greet, my mind stuck on Natalie and the child with her. When it was over, I raced to the locker room, packed up my stuff, and went home.
I got on my computer and typed Natalie’s name into the browser search bar. I found articles from her time working with a local minor league baseball team, and something about a promotion to work with Los Angeles’s major league team. I always knew that she’d be successful. At this rate, she’d be a team owner in twenty years.
I found a birth announcement for a son, Michael Russell Boyd. So it was her son! I continued reading the small print for a dad’s name, but none was listed. As far as I knew, her son’s dad wasn’t in the picture.
That seemed strange to me. The Natalie I knew five years ago was a virgin. She must have changed after I left. I hoped her change of character didn’t have anything to do with me.
I guessed that there wasn’t a man in the picture; otherwise, he probably would have joined them at the game. I’ve seen a lot of families at the games, and there aren’t a lot of single moms and sons in attendance.
My mind was spinning—what was my game plan here? Once I had her phone number and address, what would I do? I wanted to see Natalie, but I didn’t know if she wanted to see me.
I just felt so terrible about how things ended. I needed to explain what happened, and let her know the remorse I felt for letting things end so badly. Maybe she would forgive me, and we could be friends again.
Our lives were in two opposite directions. She had a career and a child, and I was still out at the clubs more nights than not. Even if we could make amends, I wasn’t sure if we’d have anything in common. Perhaps the connection we shared all those years ago had fizzled out.
There was only one way to find out.
12
Natalie
“Mom,” Michael said, “are we going to our house or Grandpa’s house?”
“Grandpa’s house,” I said as I drove from the stadium. He wants to hear all about the game.”
“Okay,” he said. “It was awesome. Did you see when Chris Taylor threw the ball to Sheldon Thomas and he scored a touchdown?”
“Yeah, sweetie, I saw that.”
“So cool. I want to play football when I grow up.”
“I’m sure Grandpa would love that.”
I loved seeing my little boy so excited about football. Some of my best childhood memories were of me playing catch with my dad in the backyard.
Since having Michael, my father and I have hardly even muttered Chris’s name. Michael knew that he had a dad, but I’ve kept the details vague. Luckily, he hasn’t asked me too many questions about the subject. I think that even he can sense how uncomfortable it makes me to talk about it.
It was hard to raise Michael alone, especially in the first few years. I moved from my little house in the suburbs to a slightly bigger one, just a few blocks away from my dad’s place. He basically lived with us for the first year, helping me out when I was too tired to function.
Once I had M
ichael, I think my dad accepted the fact that life was going to be a little different than how he expected it to be. Luckily, he and Michael had an instant bond, and they’ve been inseparable since the moment he was born.
When I’m at work, my dad takes Michael to preschool and watches him in the afternoon. In another year, he’ll be going to school. My dad and I aren’t quite ready to see him grow up. He’s such a sweet, polite, curious kid who is always keeping me on my toes. Things haven’t been easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s such a strange coincidence that my son’s biggest interest is in his biological dad’s football team. It makes sense that a kid his age would want to cheer for the hometown team. But still, I tried to discourage it—I even bought him jerseys for other teams, hoping he’d switch his allegiance, but he’s only ever wanted to be a Tiger.
Eventually, I broke down and started taking him to games. My dad didn’t like the idea at first, but once I assured him that I was doing this for my son, and not me, he changed his mind. I was curious about how Chris was doing, but I didn’t want to open past wounds. I had moved on and so had he.
Still, curiosity always got the better of me when I’d see his name in a magazine, or see his face on TV. He looked exactly the same as when I knew him, and his lifestyle hadn’t changed a bit. He was reaching the level of fame that made seeing him unavoidable, and I wondered if our paths would ever cross again.
I was moving up in the world of sports myself. After a lot of hard work, I was promoted to work with the major league team. I thought about moving to a new city, but I couldn’t separate my dad and Michael. I had a feeling we’d probably be here for life.
When I parked the car in my dad’s driveway, Michael got out and sprinted into my dad’s open arms.
Game Winning Catch: (Secret Baby Sports Romance (Pass To Win #5) Page 7
