Ice Daddy

by June Winters

  Which was one reason she wasn't ready to tell her parents about him.

  But the other reason was that she was afraid to tell the truth: that her ex, Adam, wasn't the father. Instead, she'd done the most irresponsible thing of all—gotten pregnant from a one-night stand. It didn't matter that she'd practiced safe sex—or tried to, anyway. They'd taught her that sex was a sacred bond between lovers, not something one gives away freely.

  Having finally managed to erase the ear-to-ear grin from her face, Paige entered the kitchen and gave both her parents a hug.

  “Hi guys. Thanks again for watching Irie today!” she said.

  “Our pleasure,” Dad said. “How was work?”

  “Oh, the usual. Better than yesterday, thankfully.”

  “Where's our star athlete?” Mom asked.

  “He's in the living room, playing floor hockey with Irie.”

  Dad looked impressed. “With a lesson from a guy like that, maybe a college scholarship is in her future?”

  Paige took her seat at the table. “Wouldn't that be nice?”

  But hopefully she won't need it, she thought to herself.

  A silence grew. Mom's knowing eyes lasered in on Paige.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Paige chuckled, wilting under the scrutiny.

  “Aren't you going to tell us how and when you met a professional hockey player?” Mom lowered her voice to a whisper when she spoke those words, as if they were something naughty.

  “Er, yeah.” Paige's face was warming, no doubt turning red. She had to focus to keep calm. “I met him when I was at Vanderbilt. Two years ago. But uh—we weren't really able to keep in touch.”

  “Is that why you raced out of here last night? You recognized him from the video?” Dad asked.

  “Yep,” Paige said with an audible gulp. “I realized he was in town, and so we met up.”

  “That's so interesting,” Mom said. “But it's kind of a big secret to keep from your parents, don't you think?”

  Paige squirmed in her seat. “What? What secret?”

  “That you're friends with a professional athlete, of course.”

  “I guess,” Paige croaked, her breath heavy with relief.

  “You know,” Dad began, “I didn't know it yesterday, but I looked him up just now. That boy is kind of a star player, Paige. One of the best in the league, they say. It's pretty amazing to have him in our house!”

  “Oh. Yeah. I didn't really know that. I don't follow hockey that closely. He's always just been 'Lance from Boston' to me.”

  “Huh,” Dad said.

  Mom leaned over the table and whispered again. “He's very handsome, Paige.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “And he makes a lot of money.”

  “Mom!”

  “Just saying. If he's as good with kids as he is with a hockey stick …”

  Paige groaned. “That's so cheesy.”

  But Mom didn't care. She cut to the chase instead. “Is there something going on between you two, Paige?”

  “I—I don't really know,” she lied.

  “Well!” Mom clasped her hands together and stared at her husband. “That's a better answer than an outright no, isn't it, honey?”

  Dad agreed with a stoic nod of his head.

  “How exciting,” Mom said.

  All eyes turned to watch as Irie entered the room. She held Lance's finger in her tiny fist, marching her father into the kitchen.

  “Where is she taking you?” Mom asked with a laugh.

  “I don't know,” Lance said. “She just grabbed my hand and raced in here. I think she wants to show me something.”

  “I think she wants to show you her other hockey buddy,” Dad said.

  Everyone watched as Irie led Lance across the room and over to Rascal, the schnauzer, who laid tuckered out in his dog bed. Irie plopped onto the fluffy bed next to Rascal. She thumped his side with her small fists and imitated a dog's bark, arf arf!

  Alarmed, Rascal raised his head.

  “Oh, you wanted to show me the doggie. Can you pet him nicely, though?” Lance asked, showing her how to kindly pet the dog. “Gently? Like this?”

  Irie followed Lance's lead. She opened her fist and gently ran her fingers over the dog's ribs instead, and Rascal laid his head down again.

  “Good! Yeah, that's perfect, Irie. See? He likes it.”

  Paige caught Mom's victorious glare from across the table. Mom mouthed the words, good with kids!

  “Irie's pretty adorable, isn't she, Lance?” Mom asked.

  “She's amazing. She's so smart,” Lance said, practically gushing over his daughter. “She can really shoot a ball, too. I couldn't believe it. This girl might have a future in hockey herself.”

  “Told ya,” Dad said with a smirk.

  Paige started to worry that Lance was so enamored with Irie, he just might suddenly announce himself the father—but the more Paige thought about it, the more she began to think that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Hey, if he was really ready to step forward as the Dad? If Paige and Lance could be a united front in raising Irie? That'd only make it that much easier to come clean about their past.

  But Mom, bless her heart, was compelled to continue her sales pitch. “Lance, can you believe her father doesn't want anything to do with her? A daughter as cute and lovable as Irie?”

  Lance lowered his head and quietly petted Rascal with Irie.

  “Mom,” Paige reprimanded her.

  “What? It's true.” Mom said defiantly. “Lance, did Paige tell you about her ex, Adam?”

  He cleared his throat and spoke tentatively. “She told me a little about him, yeah.”

  “Did she tell you that he'd rather smoke pot than be a father to his daughter—”

  Paige glared over the table. “Do we really need to talk about this right now?”

  “Well? It's true. A real man would want to be around to watch his daughter grow. You don't get those moments back, Paige. Once they're gone, they're gone forever—”

  “Okay, Mom, that's enough,” Paige snapped.

  The moment had grown tense and awkward. Sheepishly, Paige checked the time and stood. “Well, we should probably get going. I've got a lot to do at home and you can just imagine how busy Lance's schedule is. Thanks again for watching Irie.”

  “Anytime, sweetheart,” Dad said.

  After everyone had given goodbye hugs, Paige strapped Irie into her car seat. Lance watched quietly, apparently deep in thought.

  With the sun starting to set in the west, the three drove off.

  Chapter 18

  Lance

  “I figured we could go back to my place,” Paige said.

  The Civic's exhaust system was a loud, droning hum that drowned out Lance's thoughts. Then again, at that very moment, he wasn't sure he had any thoughts.

  “… Unless you'd rather me drop you off somewhere? Back at your hotel?” Paige asked.

  It'd been an hour since he learned he had a daughter, and he still wasn't quite sure what to think. His mind was rocked. All this time, he had a living, breathing daughter that he helped bring into the world, and he'd never even known it.

  It made him wonder if that was why he sought out Paige for so long. Did he know about Irie all along—not consciously, but maybe something else, like in his heart or his soul? Was that possible?

  And now that he knew, what was he supposed to do next? Was he even ready to be a Dad …? A few hours ago, he wasn't sure that he ever wanted to be a Dad.

  And what about him and Paige? Was he supposed to do 'the honorable thing' and ask Paige to marry him? He liked her a lot, but it still seemed awfully soon. But they had a daughter together, and man, that really threw a wrench in things …

  “Lance? Did you hear me?”

  “Huh?” Lance snapped out of his trance. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, your place is fine.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No. Not at all.” Lance turned around and took a p
eek at Irie in her car seat. “I'm still just … processing it. It's a lot. I'm a Dad now. Whoa. I mean, I have been a Dad, but I didn't even know it. It's crazy.”

  Paige nodded. “Believe me, I know. I had nine months and even that wasn't enough time to process it.”

  “It's the craziest birthday present ever.”

  Paige's jaw dropped. “Is today your birthday?!”

  “No. Tomorrow is.”

  “Oh! Well! I'll have to get you something.”

  “You already did …” Lance shook his head, still stunned. “Can I ask you something, Paige?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I don't mean any offense by asking you this—because hell, if you could take one look at my baby pictures, you'd fall over. But I still have to ask: how do you know for sure she's my daughter?”

  “Don't worry. I'm not offended, and I'd ask the same thing in your position. Here's your answer: I got my period the weekend after Adam and I broke up. I slept with you a month after that—and nobody before, or after, or even since. In fact, you are only the second person I've slept with in my life. So … using a little common sense and the process of elimination …”

  Lance nodded. “That leaves me.”

  Paige waved her hand in the air. “But maybe you'd like to take a paternity test so you can be sure I'm not lying, or trying to gold-dig you, or trap you with a baby that's not yours—”

  “Oh, come on. I believe you.”

  “I just don't want you to have any doubts.”

  “I'm sorry I even asked. Forget it. God, Paige, she looks just like me. I can't get over it.”

  “I know. My friend Emily—she was the friend with me at Zickell's that night—sure thinks so too.” Paige stifled a giggle. “My friends all call Irie the miracle baby, by the way.”

  “Why is she the miracle baby?”

  “Because you wore a condom, and you pulled out before you came. Although, after what you told me today about your ex?”

  She let the rest of her thought go unsaid, but Lance's vision tunneled with the implication. “Oh my God. The condom, Paige! My ex—fuck, she must've found the condom in my wallet and poked a hole in that one, too!”

  Paige pursed her lips and nodded. “Yep. I figured that one out when you told me about her. They say condoms are 98% effective, right? I always thought Irie beat the odds, but maybe the game was rigged in the first place.”

  “I guess she's not as much of a miracle as you thought, then.”

  “You kidding? She single-handedly found her famous father at a hockey game and dragged you back into our lives. That's a bigger miracle, if you ask me.”

  Lance cracked a smile and took another peek at his daughter in the back seat. “She's amazing, isn't she? Just like I told your Mom.”

  Paige went quiet. “Sorry you had to listen to her rant, by the way.”

  “What rant? Oh, you mean the one about how Irie's father is a dead beat loser who missed out on a huge chunk of Irie's life, like her first steps and her first words and man, doesn't he feel like such an idiot, since he will never, ever get to experience the pure joy of those moments, which are now forever lost?”

  “Yep. That's the speech,” Paige said with a gulp. “Although you seem to remember a few more traumatic details than I do.”

  “Funny thing is, before she started that rant, I was this close to telling them.” Lance pinched a half-inch of air between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I wondered if you might.”

  “Would you have been pissed?”

  “Well, I would've had a lot of explaining to do … but no. I wouldn't have been mad. I just figured we have so much to talk about first—me and you—and all that needs to be hashed out before we go telling anyone.”

  “I get that. But it just doesn't seem right to keep it a secret from them. And meanwhile, they're blaming this other dude for being a lousy Dad? C'mon, Paige. That's not fair.”

  Paige grimaced guiltily. “I know. It's my fault. I just couldn't bear to tell them the truth. They were already so upset when they found out I had a baby, gasp, out of wedlock. They just assumed it was Adam's before I could tell them otherwise. And Adam had already conveniently taken himself out of the picture, and no one could track him down, so … I went with it. What can I say? I feel awful, Lance. I've been letting them believe this lie. And as bad as that is, I always thought the truth was so much worse.”

  “What, that I'm the father?”

  “No. That the father was a one-night stand. That I didn't have the slightest idea who you really were or how to get in contact with you. And that scared me so bad. I really didn't think I'd ever find you, and I'd never have anything to tell Irie about her father. I know it doesn't excuse lying, but … I felt so terrible about it.”

  “But didn't you try to find me?”

  “Yes! I've been trying to find you since the day I peed on that stick and got the surprise of my life! But all I had to go on was 'Lance from Boston.' I went back to Zickell's and asked them if they knew anything about you. In fact, I even made them check their security camera footage, but no one recognized you. I hung out there almost every night while I was pregnant with her. And no, don't worry, I only drank soda waters with lemon. But I had nothing else to go on, and typing your name into Facebook turns up more than a few Boston-based Lances, none of which looked anything like you.”

  “Well, I'm not on Facebook, but honestly?” Lance smiled ironically. “I'm kinda surprised you didn't find me just based on that. I'm the most important Lance in Boston, after all.”

  Paige snickered. “Ah, there's that ego again. After seeing you be so caring and good with Irie, and so polite with my parents, I was beginning to wonder if cocky Lance would ever reappear.”

  He patted her thigh. “Just needed a little time to find my footing, that's all.”

  “Anyway, we're almost to my place,” Paige said quietly.

  Lance watched out the window. They weren't in the Nashville suburbs anymore. On Lance's right, they zoomed past a number of industrial-looking buildings, with large lots packed with semi-trailers and bulldozers and crates. On the left was a strip mall with a laundromat, a liquor store, a loan store, a bar …

  This wasn't exactly the good part of town.

  “Do your parents help you out at all?” Lance asked.

  “You mean with money? No. But they help me out with Irie. More than you can imagine.”

  She flicked her turn signal and turned down a smaller road. She made another quick turn and they entered the parking lot of a large, gray, dated building. The complex looked almost industrial, with its repeating rows of identical windows and balconies. Even from this distance, Lance could tell each apartment had the exact same layout.

  Paige parked the car and switched off the engine. The parking lot was filled with cars like Paige's: old, rusted, and beat-up. His heart sank. While he'd been living the high life in a million-dollar condo, with his Lambo and all the babes he could ever want? This was Paige and Irie's life.

  Damn.

  Paige scooped Irie from her car seat and shut the door. “Ready to head in, Lance?”

  “Sure.”

  He followed Paige's lead.

  ***

  “It's not much,” Paige warned as they entered. She set Irie down and the kid toddled off.

  Lance walked in and looked around the apartment, wide-eyed. Brown carpet. Wood-panel walls. Bulky, noisily humming appliances from the '80s, maybe. The whole place just seemed funky and dated.

  Okay, it wasn't a third-world hell hole or anything like that. But the idea that, while he was living the rich bachelor life in Boston, he had a daughter he didn't know about? And the mother of his daughter was raising her in this cramped, one bedroom shoebox? And Paige had to wait tables to get by?

  It made him sick.

  “Are you okay?” Paige asked with a self-conscious laugh. “I'm so embarrassed. I hope you don't think it's gross—”

  “I want to help. Let me know how I can
help.” He patted his pockets, wondering if his check book was on him. It wasn't.

  Paige thought it over, a hand on her hip. “Know how to change a diaper? I think she needs a change.”

  Lance swallowed. “Er, no, but I meant—”

  “First time for everything,” Paige said, walking off to grab the supplies.

  A few minutes later, Lance had changed his first diaper. Changing diapers was one of life's terrifying ordeals that was supposed to intimidate and horrify men—but now that he'd done it, the hockey star felt strangely accomplished and ready for more. If he could do that without a hitch, what else could he do?

  He followed Paige into the kitchen, hoping to pitch in. “What else can I do?”

  Paige rummaged through the refrigerator. “It'd be great if you could just keep an eye on her. I'll start cooking dinner.”

  “Dinner? You sure? I can take us out to eat.”

  Eating out was Lance's way of life, after all. Practically every meal he ate was prepared at a restaurant—the only times he ate a home-made meal were when his sister, Ella, cooked for him and Radar. He'd come to expect the women in his life to love eating out—they loved the excuse to dress up, they loved the fancy restaurants he took them to and how he didn't spare any expense, and most importantly, they loved to simply feel spoiled.

  But Paige didn't need much time to think it over. “Hm, no, it'd be easier if I cooked.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. By the time we get there and back, it'll be past Irie's bed time. Plus, it's healthier this way, too.”

  “O … kay,” Lance stammered. He wasn't used to an offer to dine out being rejected. “So, what should I do with Irie?”

  “Just be with her. That's all. She'll show you what she wants to do. Trust me, it's easy. You'll see.”

  Lance left the tiny kitchen and found Irie sitting on the floor, in front of a pile of her books. She moved the books around haphazardly, apparently searching for the one that caught her fancy.

  “You want me to read a book to you, baby girl?” Lance cooed, squatting next to her.

  He spotted a book with a fluffy dog on the cover; the dog's ears were made out of real velvet, so the child could touch and feel as they read.