Dad used to tell me she was born an old soul, someone who didn’t quite fit musically or fashionably in the time they existed, and that’s what he loved most about her. “She had depth,” he used to say, “I saw that first before I knew the color of her eyes.” I have my mother’s neon blue eyes, her most remarkable physical attribute, which only made his sentiment mean more.
Dad never remarried after Mom died, but had a special place in his heart for the ladies. He had lots and lots of girlfriends, who taught me a lot about a lot. Because of his eclectic tastes, I can cook a variety of dishes and have collected a ton of mixed advice about men, mostly about my own father, while his flavors of the month packed up and moved on.
Parker sips her wine. “We should have a wine day soon since you’ve got a good, reliable sitter.”
“I’m game, I could use some adult time.”
“Yeah, me too,” Parker says a little breathlessly.
“You’re probably freaking him out,” I warn as she stands fixed at the window.
“Good, I want him afraid of me.”
“Oh, I think you blew that all to hell with the horribly delivered death threats.”
She gives me the stink eye. “Only because you bat them all away. I can’t help that I’m a little over-protective.”
“Just a little.”
“He better not screw this up. I really will kill him.”
“Me too.”
“I can’t believe you gave in that day he cornered you. So unlike you.”
Swallowing a little liquid courage, I corner the sofa making my way toward her. “Parker, I haven’t been completely honest about Troy.”
“Meaning?”
“You know how I told you he would come around sometimes and watch us?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, the last few years, he’s been coming around more and more. And…he’s been sending checks.”
“What?” This finally tears her eyes away from the window.
“He’s been more diligent than I led on, waiting for me to give him any opportunity to meet his son.”
“Bullshit. Don’t give him any room on the rug, Clarissa.”
“I’m not. Trust me, I don’t want to, but it’s the truth. It took me a while to come around, but when he noticed me notice him, he kept coming back.”
Parker’s mouth parts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to hate him too. I know that makes me awful.”
“It’s me. We don’t keep secrets.” She’s hurt and angry, and I don’t blame her.
“Sometimes, especially in the beginning, he’d disappear for a few months, and I assumed that was the end of it. When he went missing, it was easier to ignore he’d been there. But he always came back.”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“Don’t you see? If I admitted it to you, then you would have forced me to give him a chance. I had to stay strong. When he truly manned up and forced himself into our lives, that’s when I knew he was ready, and that’s why I gave in without much of a fight. I’ve been fighting with my conscience for a while now. I think on some level I always knew he was coming. I needed him to be ready. He was just a kid.”
“So were you.”
“You know what I mean.”
Parker turns back to the window. “Definitely not a kid anymore.”
“I know.”
“The ass on this guy,” Parker says before glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’m pissed at you.”
“Do you think I made a mistake?”
“I think you both had some growing up to do.”
“Ouch.”
“That’s me being nice. A mistake, probably, but time will tell. He really does need to earn your trust. But this isn’t about you. This is about our boy, and nothing is more important.”
“Agreed. I’m sorry I lied.”
“Maybe you should apologize to him.”
“One day I will, when he truly deserves it.”
I join Parker at the window peering through the blinds to see Troy clad in a backpack leaf blower, his jeans hanging low on his ass, his bare ass.
Parker’s laughter erupts when I gasp at the sight of his muscular butt on full display. “I give it an eleven out of ten. Have you ever seen such a fantastic ass?”
Troy continues his task blowing the debris from a giant oak tree while clueless he has mouths frothing on half the soccer moms in the neighborhood.
“I saw a lady with a turkey neck drive right into her garage door a few minutes ago, and your neighbor on the other side of Troy has been checking her mail for about ten minutes.”
Parker pours some wine into both our glasses, filling them as I try to control my laughter. “We need to tell him.”
“Five more minutes?” She asks with a whine similar to Dante’s.
“You’re horrible.”
She shrugs. “Not our fault. And payback is a bitch. Besides, how can you not know your ass is full-on out of your pants?”
“Kids these days,” I say, clinking glasses with her before bringing my eyes back to the tightest ass in the neighborhood. “Five more minutes.”
Fifteen minutes later, a breeze comes through, making Troy painfully aware of his nakedness. Parker and I both grumble in protest before tactically ducking when Troy self-consciously darts wide eyes around while adjusting his pants.
Troy
“We’ll be going over this more in-depth next time. See you then.” Our instructor flips the lights, and I remove my glasses, stand, and stretch. After practice it’s lights out, and I’m looking forward to my pillow and after, some time with Dante. I’m determined to ace senior year and bring up my GPA a few points. If I don’t get drafted, I want more for myself than just to settle for a different career. Though if someone told me years ago, I’d be majoring in electrical engineering and taking classes like computer science and analytic geometry, I would have laughed in their faces.
I’ve struggled in school my whole life. It wasn’t until I declared my major that I began to seriously crack the books. With the bulk of my course load under my belt and most of my struggle over, I can concentrate on doing more than just graduating. The best things in my life have always come hard-earned. If there’s anything I want to teach my son, it’s that sometimes the hardest route is the best route because it’s far more rewarding. Ball came naturally. And though I’ve done the work and put blood, sweat, and tears into the games, it’s been far easier than the challenge of school.
“You’re Troy Jenner, right?”
I look over to the blonde, addressing me while I’m mid-stretch. “That’s me.”
“Good game last week,” she says, staring at the flash of abs when my shirt rides up. I extend my stretch to show her she’s caught red-handed and am rewarded with her giggle.
“Thanks.” Gathering my books, I size her up. She’s pretty, in the girl next door kind of way, but she’s got nothing on my baby mama. It strikes me then how I’ve subconsciously been comparing every girl to Clarissa. I need to get over it. She’s got a boyfriend, and as of late, keeps our conversations more clipped than ever. Any hopes I had, have been dashed by the appearance of a BMW after she drops Dante off with me. “And you are?”
“Nora.”
“Nice to meet you, Nora.”
“I, uh, well, I was wondering if you needed a study partner?”
“All set for now,” I say, knowing precisely what she wants a partner for. If I’m going to start dating, I’m going to have to be as selective as Clarissa. As hypocritical as it may seem, this girl seems to be the opposite of what I need. Not only that, I enjoy the chase. It’s no fun if the game is already over.
“Well, if you change your mind…” She looks me over and bites her lip.
“Thanks for the offer, I’ll keep it in mind,” I say before we separate in the hall. Outside the building, I see another sucker dropping to his knees to propose under the Era Tree. It’s a Grand tradition equival
ent to an old wives’ tale—if you walk alone under the tree, you walk alone forever, but if you walk with your Grand sweetheart, you’ll be endlessly happy together.
Pure. Fucking. Bullshit.
I’m not at all against commitment, but for the moment, I have all I can handle. I pause to catch the girl’s answer and notice a brunette with killer legs in front of me. She’s a foot shorter, has on a sundress and cowgirl boots. Adorable.
“Better them than me,” she mutters as the crowd roars when the girl accepts the proposal.
“Couldn’t agree more,” I reply just as she slams into me, and I catch her to keep her from falling. Her clean scent hits me, and my dick is instantly on high alert.
“Sorry,” she sputters, “…sorry.”
Our eyes finally lock, and I’m drawn in. She’s beautiful, and despite her shaky demeanor, seems confident. Hazel eyes look me up and down, and I’m fully prepared to use every line in my arsenal to keep this girl talking when she darts her gaze to her booted feet.
“Nope,” she says, breaking our connection before sidestepping me.
“Nope?” I ask with a chuckle.
“That arm belongs to me,” she says softly, nodding toward the hand I have latched around her.
“All yours,” I say, hesitantly unhanding her.
“Thanks for saving me a trip.”
“Anytime.”
“Good day.” She crosses her boots in a ridiculous curtsey, which makes me chuckle before she skitters off.
Game on.
I catch up with her as she hauls ass toward the parking lot. “Do you mind telling me what that nope was about?”
“Just an inside joke between me, and…me.”
“You’re bruising me here, beautiful. Did that nope mean I’m not your type?”
“Exactly.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sure a…ego of your size can handle it.”
I’m grinning again, but she can’t see it because she’s practically running from me. “I’m not so sure, it’s leading me in the direction away from class.”
“Better switch lanes then, don’t want to be late,” she says breathlessly.
“What if you’re wrong?” I ask, fully interested. She’s gorgeous, smells amazing, and her deep twang is alluring. Interest piqued, I decide she could be just the distraction I’m looking for. I can’t remember the last time I went on a real date. And from the way she’s avoiding me, it’s easy to tell she’s been burned. She’s wary of me, and for some reason that’s my new catnip. Maybe this girl is the place to start.
“What if I’m right?”
Flustered, she brings her eyes to mine. Recognition, attraction, it all passes between us before she scrambles to pull her phone from her purse and takes a fake call. She’s avoiding me. It’s the same type of Clarissa rejection all over again.
Interesting.
“Sorry, I gotta take this,” she says, her eyes drinking me in once again, and I do the same, regretfully taking her hint.
“Shame,” I say before giving her freedom, for now, because after the class I’m now late for, and my nap, I have a date with my son.
I tap lightly on Clarissa’s door. “Are you decent? Dante said you wanted to see me?”
“I’m dressed.”
From the doorway, I poke my head in and see she’s sitting at a small vanity in the corner of her bedroom.
“Nice room.”
“Thanks. Come in, have a seat.” I take a seat on the bed as she lines her lips in hot pink. Her dress is a deep turquoise, the front dipping low accentuating her mouth-watering cleavage while the rest of it hugs her curves.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Her tone is dry, and instead of letting it deter me, I use this chance alone with her to try to bridge the gap between us. She’s refusing to let me in. Her smiles are mostly forced, but she’s always polite. Though I’m the last man she’d consider for a relationship, I’m determined a friendship is possible. It’s what’s best for all of us, but I can’t seem to find an in.
“I mean that. You really are beautiful.”
“I appreciate the compliment.”
I shake my head. “Always so formal. Are you ever going to let me—”
“Dante has another ear infection. He’s been prone to them since he was a baby. At one point, we thought we were going to have to get him tubes because he had them so often.”
She reads my concern in the reflection of the mirror.
“He’s fine,” she says, fastening an earring. “They’re less frequent now, and his hearing is perfect.”
“Tell me more.”
“More?” She draws her brows. “His drops—”
“I can read the directions on the medicine. Tell me more about what he was like as a baby.”
“Oh, he was a living doll,” she says fondly. He came out so small but got really fat when I breastfed.”
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “He had rolls on his rolls.”
“Yeah. He was my Michelin Man-baby. Tough as tread, too. Didn’t cry much when he hurt himself.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I cried more than he did. He’s always been resilient.”
I fight between the resentment I feel and asking more questions, and she reads my posture. You could cut the budding tension in the room with a knife.
“Sixteen hours,” she says, her tone cool while she eyes me in the mirror.
“What?”
“If you want to know why I’ve held this grudge for so long. There’s your answer. Sixteen hours. Alone, and in the worst pain of my life.”
I’ve always been curious about his birth, but from the picture she posted, she was all smiles after, so I never considered it was that hard on her.
“I thought about messaging you just so I would have someone, anyone, there to hold my hand. I was two weeks early, and Parker was out of town for work. I was completely alone. My parents had both died years before, and I’m an only child. I had no one. So, I considered reaching out to you for my own selfish needs, but the more I studied your profile pic and the cocky smile you were wearing, the angrier I got.”
“I’m sorry.”
She turns to me, her arm resting over her chair. “Not good enough. It wasn’t then, and it’s not now, but I’m trying. I really am. You think I enjoy being this way? I don’t. I’m not proud of the way I’m behaving. It’s not as easy as just letting it go. It’s not that simple.”
“I get it.”
“You couldn’t. You couldn’t possibly understand just how hard it was. During those hours, I had too much time to think about my future. The years I’d spend making decisions alone, caring for him alone. I wrote you off for good the second he was ripped from me. Twenty-three stitches. And Jesus, how that hurt. But it wasn’t just the labor itself, it was being there, in the scariest moment of my life, without anyone I cared about to tell me it was all going to be okay. And the realization during those hours that I would be in the same position from then on out, it was all too much.”
“I would’ve been there. I wanted to be there. If you would have just reached out, I would have been there.”
“I didn’t want you there. Despite the way you looked then, in the light of day, you were an eighteen-year-old kid. If there were any question, it would have been answered the second your name and age was printed on his birth certificate. I was hysterical, my voice went out. My labor screams were silent. I was so upset, I put my baby in distress. I assumed since so many women have done it, I could handle it, but I was so fucking wrong. The whole time I was just…sad. Sad for myself, sad for my baby who didn’t have a chance at normalcy because his father told a selfish lie.” Her voice is shaking, and I clench my fists, itching to pull her into my arms. She lifts her chin defiantly. “So, while you paint me the bad guy for all you’ve missed, and all the effort you’ve put in, just remember that you deprived me of what was supposed to be one of the happiest times of my life. ‘I’m sorry’ will never g
ive me those moments back, will never make them less hellacious. ‘I’m sorry’ will never change that day.”
Her confession has me reeling.
She sighs. “Troy, I don’t want to be this bitch to you. I don’t want to harbor this grudge anymore. For the moment, you make him happy, and that should be all that matters now. I’ve been holding onto this anger for six years. It’s not going to disappear overnight. But I am trying.”
“Tell me what to do,” I don’t even recognize my own voice. “What to say.”
“Say you’ll never leave him in that situation. Tell me you’ll never ever let him feel that alone when it counts, and that’s enough.”
“Never, but I want to make it up to you, too.”
“You can’t. But you’re doing what you can by him, and that’s enough for me.”
She stands and slides into a pair of heels. “Sometimes I wish I could go back, tell that girl that it will be hard, but he’ll be worth it. Tell her just to make the best of those hours because, after that pain, she won’t ever be alone again.”
Words fail me as she spritzes some perfume on her wrists and walks past me and out the door. “I’ll be home by eleven.”
All I can do is nod.
Stephanie’s Angel Food Cake with Whipped Cream Frosting
Baker, Oregon
Makes 8 servings
2 hours
1 Angel Food Cake Mix
1 Pint Heavy Whipping Cream
6 Tbsps. Cocoa
2/3 Cup Sugar
Make Angel Food cake according to package directions. Slightly whisk remaining ingredients together and chill in refrigerator. After cake is cooled, beat chilled mixture on high until thick and spread evenly over cake.
Clarissa
Shutting the car door, I wave at Brett before turning back to the house. We’ve only been on a handful of dates since he first asked me out. Not enough to tell if he’s a long-term guy, but enough to know there’s chemistry there. We’re taking it slow, no pressure, which is fine with me. After having Dante, I gave myself the obligatory back in the saddle moment, which proved to be a fool’s errand. Now I’m to the point in my life where I’m vetting in the most particular of ways. Before giving my heart and my body, I make sure that I’m capable of feeling more than chemistry. My self-worth reigns when it comes to dating, and any man who courts me will have to be as patient as I have been because I’m dating for two.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 35
