Ice Daddy

by June Winters

  Normally, he'd be all over her. But for the first time in his life, Lance didn't feel much interest for a girl that wanted to screw his brains out because of his celebrity status.

  Why? She wasn't Paige. It was as simple as that.

  “So glad to meet you,” the stranger said, putting her hand out to shake. She held her hand right in front of her cleavage. She wanted him to stare, to be seduced by her assets. “I'm Leah.”

  “Yeah, you too, Leah,” he muttered. He shook her hand, but he passed on the peek at her tits. He didn't need it, he didn't care.

  But Leah wouldn't be denied so easily. She pretended to inspect his hand. “You've got such manly hands,” she giggled as she pulled his hand forward until his knuckles brushed against her breasts.

  Lance rolled his eyes and freed his hand. “Look. You seem nice, but I'm not interested. Alright? Sorry.”

  Leah's pride was injured and she reared back. “Um, who said I was interested in you in the first place?”

  He thought to bite his tongue, but he couldn't help himself. “You did, sweetheart, when you rubbed your titties all over my hand.”

  “Asshole.” She threw her drink in his face and stormed off in a huff.

  Lance wiped the drink—by the smell of it, gin and Diet Coke, ugh—from his face.

  Ella had seen the whole thing and she sidled up to his other side. “Damn, what'd you say to her?”

  “I told her I wasn't interested.”

  “You? You weren't interested—in her?” Ella tilted her head and watched as the furious girl strutted off.

  “I know. Shocking, isn't it.”

  “Now I know something's wrong.” She sat next to Lance and grabbed his hand. “Lance, I'm so sorry that I ruined your day by throwing that surprise party for you. I know that's what bothering you, okay? You don't have to lie for my sake. I really thought you'd love it …”

  He shook his head. “It's okay, Ella. Really, it's not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Lance sighed. “I fucked up today, Ella. I fucked up the best thing I think I ever had.”

  “Are you in trouble with the team again?!”

  “No. Not that.”

  “Well what else could possibly be so important to you?”

  He sighed. “If I tell you, you can't tell anyone.”

  “I won't tell a soul.”

  Chapter 28

  Paige

  Despite a mild hangover, Paige woke the next day feeling stronger. She knew what she had to do now. She'd already started the process when she told her parents she was moving to Boston—now she just had to finish it.

  They wouldn't be happy with her. Their opinion of her might drop. But in a way, that was her just desserts. Actions had consequences, didn't they? She wasn't the perfect daughter she'd painted herself to be. She wasn't the victim, cruelly left to raise a child by herself by a dead beat ex. No, but she'd willingly led her parents to believe that Adam was Irie's father. Because it made him look bad instead of her.

  It was time to face the music.

  Paige grabbed her phone. After the blowup with Lance yesterday, she'd turned her ringer off—she didn't want to talk to anyone but Emily until she figured out what she had to do next.

  Sure enough, Lance had bombarded her phone with calls and texts. She flipped to the beginning of his wall-of-texts and began to read:

  “Paige, I'm sorry.”

  “I hate how things went down at the airport. I can't forgive myself. I'm only trying to do right by everyone and it keeps blowing up in my face.”

  “But I'm crazy about you and Irie BOTH. I want you both with me. I don't care anymore what the team wants from me. Just you, and Irie. That's all I want.”

  “Let's just try to talk this one out, okay?”

  “You don't even know how insane this whole situation is making me … please text me back.”

  His anguish was palpable. Reading his sad messages made her own heart throb with a pitiful longing.

  She scrolled down and read some more. He'd stayed up late, apparently—and was probably drinking—because he continued to send texts well into the morning, texts that became littered with typos. She felt like a mean bitch, but she couldn't help but laugh at his typos.

  “Paige I'm durnk. Plaese respond.”

  “OK dont' asnwer me. I dont blame u. That's ok. Ive got a plane.”

  Paige snickered. “He's got a plane. Hear that, Irie? We knew Daddy was rich, but we didn't know he was that rich.”

  It was easier to laugh at his typos than to get her hopes up that he might actually have a plan, let alone a plan that could actually undo all the damage he'd caused …

  And then she read the last message.

  “Godo nigth. I levo you both.”

  “Levo us both?” she muttered. “Yes, you certainly did leave-o us both when you turned out to be a huge jerk.”

  She refused to believe that he meant to type some other four-letter word. Maybe he'd meant it for Irie, but not for Paige. At least, he'd certainly never say it if he wasn't wasted. He was probably at a club, on the prowl for his next piece of ass. Ugh, athletes—so typical.

  But when her indignant cynicism over his typo washed away, a rawness in her heart, a vulnerability in her soul, was left in its wake. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe he wouldn't give up so easily. And yeah, maybe it was too soon to throw that word around, but she knew exactly what he meant by it, didn't she? If she'd learned anything over these past few days, it was that there was an undeniable bond between a man and a woman when they create a life together. She could laugh at his text all she wanted, but she knew in her heart that she had been quickly falling for him, too. Until one small bump in the road had scared her off.

  Paige shook her head and set her phone down. She didn't know what to say to Lance yet. Maybe a short, “I'm okay we'll talk later,” would tide him over.

  But in the meantime, she had to get Irie ready to head over to Grandma and Grandpa's.

  ***

  Paige's Mom looked extremely confused when she answered the door.

  “Paige …? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Mom,” Paige mumbled. She stepped into her parents' house with her tail between her legs.

  “Was that some kind of prank phone call yesterday? Because it wasn't funny. You scared me half-to-death.”

  “No. It wasn't a prank.” Paige set Irie down, and the child toddled off in a hurry for the living room. They followed her into the living room, where Dad was lounging in his recliner with a newspaper.

  “Paige!” he said, sounding equally surprised and confused. “I thought you were …”

  Paige cleared her throat and took a seat on the leather sofa. “Moving to Boston. Right. I might have to still. But not yet, not with Lance, anyway.”

  Irie rummaged through her toy bin until she dragged out her hockey stick and foam ball. That child was obsessed. And so was Rascal the schnauzer, who jerked his wispy silver-and-gray head into the air and jumped into action, ready to play fetch.

  “So, is there something you want tell us?” her Mom asked.

  Paige nodded. “I—I haven't been very honest with you guys from the beginning. And I'm really sorry about that.”

  “About what?” Dad asked, peering over his reading glasses.

  Paige took a deep breath. This was the hardest part, the worst part—working up the nerve. Her heart beat like a war drum and her pulse throbbed in her neck.

  “Irie's father,” she said at last. “It's not Adam.”

  Her parents' heads turned on a swivel to watch as Irie took a swing at the foam ball. Whack. Into the net. Rascal sprung, pouncing on the ball as if it were a rat, and proudly trotted it right back to her to do it again.

  “No kidding,” Paige's Dad said quietly.

  “I'm so sorry. I always knew it wasn't Adam, but … you guys just assumed he was. And I let you guys believe that, because it was easier than telling you the truth.”

  “Why would you lie
?” her Mom asked.

  “Because the truth made me feel so rotten and shameful.” Paige had started to tear up. She blotted at the corner of her eyes. She didn't want to make a pitiful scene by crying, but all the emotions that were bottled up inside her for the past two years sprung a leak and burst out on their own. “God, I'm sorry, I told myself I wouldn't cry.”

  “What is the truth, then?” her Mom asked.

  “Adam and I were already broken up. I went to a bar, I met a guy, and—” she shook her head. “Well, I guess I had a one-night stand. And that one-night stand led to Irie.”

  They didn't say anything, so Paige continued.

  “And I had no idea who that guy was, or how to track him down. And that's why I couldn't tell you the truth. I was sure I'd never find him. All I knew was his first name and the city he lived in. Until the other day, when he suddenly came back into my life.”

  Her parents looked at Irie again as she teed up and took another swing at her ball. “Are you telling us that her father is …?”

  “Yes.” Paige nodded. “It's Lance.”

  She filled them in on all the missing pieces of her story with Lance. She watched their faces while she told them the story, expecting their expressions to cruelly twist with shock and disgust and outrage at her past behavior. But they listened calmly, intently, and their features began to soften with a sympathetic understanding.

  “Aren't you mad?” Paige asked. “Aren't you ashamed of me?”

  Mom and Dad looked at each other.

  Dad spoke first. “We're not mad, sweetheart.”

  Mom finished his thought. “But we are disappointed that you felt you couldn't be honest with us.”

  “I don't blame you. I'm so sorry for that. I just didn't know what else to do. I felt so trapped by my situation.”

  Dad reached for her hand and held it. “It's okay, Paige. You made a mistake, and over the course of your life, trust me, you're going to make plenty more. It's what you do, how you respond to those mistakes, that really counts. You could've taken the easy way out, but you didn't. You chose the hard way. Your Mom and I see how much you do for Irie, and what a wonderful mother you are to her, and we are very, very proud of you.”

  She didn't feel like she deserved his kind words, but she forced herself to accept them anyway. “Thank you.”

  “But to be honest with you,” Mom began, “as time went on, we started having doubts whether Adam was really her father or not.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, first of all, Irie doesn't look anything like him. But second and more importantly, if he really was the father, I always thought you'd be trying a lot harder to reach him or his family.”

  Paige gulped. “Yeah …”

  “In fact, I reached his grandmother.”

  “Wait, what? You did?”

  “I had to do something! Do you really think I'd happily watch you struggle and suffer as a single parent while that boy did nothing?”

  Paige hid her face in shame. “Ugh.”

  “His grandmother said he would call her from time to time to check in. I told her about Irie, and she was shocked, but she said she'd relay the message next time he called. A few weeks later, she reported to me that Adam knew about Irie but you hadn't even tried to contact him about her.”

  Paige bit her lip. That was always the one obvious hole in her alibi, wasn't it?

  “Plus, Adam had heard through the grapevine that the baby wasn't his, that you were sleeping with some new boyfriend. So he didn't think it was his.”

  “So you knew I was lying the whole time? Why didn't you say anything?”

  She shrugged. “I tried to bring it up as best I could, but you always got defensive when I did. So I figured you'd tell us when you were ready.”

  “Welp … I'm officially an idiot.”

  Dad shook his head. “You're not an idiot. You were embarrassed and ashamed. The only thing that matters now is that you've found her father.”

  Mom smiled. “I wondered if he was her dad the second he walked in.”

  Paige groaned. “Really? Seriously?”

  “Yes! He has the exact same eyes as Irie. It's impossible to look at him and not see his daughter staring back at you. And then seeing how good he was with Irie?”

  “Mom! Then why did you go on that guilt trip in front of Lance, about how Irie's dad was missing all the precious moments from her life?”

  She shrugged. “Well, I dunno. I thought it might help.”

  Paige buried her face in her hands. “I guess that's where I get it from …”

  “More importantly,” Dad cut in, “what is Lance going to do now that he knows about Irie?”

  Paige gulped. “Yeah. I guess I need to tell you all about that, too …”

  Chapter 29

  Lance

  “Lance. Oh, for God's sake. Lance, wake up!”

  It was Honey Badger's voice. And thanks to his pounding headache, she sounded more shrill and demanding than usual. Lance gave a grunt, dismissively waved his arm at her as if to tell her to go the hell away, and rolled on his opposite side.

  Ella stamped through his bedroom, stumbling over the clothes and trash on his floor in the process. “Ugh, gross. I can't believe you're a millionaire and yet you still live like a pig. I'm so tired of telling you that. If your lady sees your room like this, she'll never take you back. And I wouldn't blame her, either.”

  She went from window to window, yanking the cords to his Venetian blinds. The wooden blinds flew up like a locomotive with a skull-splitting clickety-clackety-clack! Then the bright white winter sun burned into Lance's retinas. He shielded his eyes, hissing like a vampire, and crawled under his pillow for refuge. But Ella hurried over and pulled it right off him.

  “The hell, Honey Badger?”

  “Get up, Lance!”

  “It's so early,” he moaned.

  “Actually, it's past noon.”

  “But I'm hungover as hell.”

  “I can see that, genius. I told you to stop drinking or you wouldn't be able to do anything today. Wait. You do remember asking for my help last night, right?”

  A lot of last night was still foggy, but he did remember it clearly. At Club Regret, he told Ella all about Paige and Irie. How had she reacted? At first, she told him he was an idiot. He'd knocked up a girl that he didn't even know? “Stupid! Dumb! You moron, Lance!”

  But she stopped flinging insults when she realized how truly heart broken he was over losing Paige and Irie. Until she heard why he lost them, anyway. “You left them at the airport?! What the hell is wrong with you!?”

  And then he showed her the videos: first, the one from the hockey game, when he and Irie first saw each other. “Ohmygod she's so adorable!” And then he showed her the pictures and videos he took at Paige's apartment, when he got to spend a lot of quality time with Irie. Ella's jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw those. “You're actually kind of a good dad, Lance. Whoa. Never saw that coming. That is definitely your baby girl, by the way.”

  And then he told Ella all about his plans to move them to Boston but then Kip Sterling stepped in and now he'd fucked it all up and Paige didn't want anything to do with him anymore. And they spent the rest of the night brainstorming ideas how he could win her back.

  Ella tapped her feet impatiently at his bedside. “Hellooo? Earth to Lance! Do you remember asking for my help last night or not?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “So do you want my help or not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then you're going to get up, take a shower, and then you're going to clean your room.” She swore under her breath. “I can't believe how much I sound like our Mom right now, thanks to you.”

  “Alright, alright.” Lance clambered out of bed.

  But before he dragged his lifeless body to the shower, he paused.

  “Hey, Ella.”

  “Yeah?”

  He hugged her tight. “Thanks a lot. You're doing me a huge
favor. This means everything to me.”

  She hugged him back. “Aw, Lance.”

  ***

  After an invigorating shower—and an egg-and-cheese sandwich plus coffee from the deli across the street—Lance was a new man.

  While Ella went to work in Radar's old bedroom, Lance took care of his own room. She was right; his living quarters were nasty. Since they were kids, she'd bitched at him about his mess—but hell, so did Radar when they lived together.

  Lance had learned to keep his mess contained to his bedroom. He figured it'd always be there, that if he ever settled down with someone, they'd either have to live with it or take care of it themselves. But with his shot with Paige on the line, he wasn't willing to take any chances. He bagged up all his dirty clothes and had them sent to the dry-cleaners. The trash he picked up, bagged, threw away. Every surface was dusted and wiped clean, his floors swept and mopped.

  Ella came by to appreciate his work. “Whoa. Good job, dude. It looks like an actual human lives here now.”

  He grinned. “Thanks.”

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved the phone with as much moxie as he had the other twenty times his phone had buzzed that day—even though he'd been let down every one of those times.

  This time, though, he wasn't. It was a text from Paige. He read it aloud, so his sister could hear it, too.

  “Hey Lance. Sorry I didn't reply to your messages yesterday, but I needed some time and space to think. I'll be coming to Boston in three days, so we can arrange to meet up to take your paternity test. Maybe you'd like to spend some time with Irie too? My parents have paid for my flight and the hotel I'll be staying at. I appreciate your earlier offer, but I don't want you to pay for anything until you can be sure that Irie is your daughter. It's only fair to you that way.”

  “What do you make of that?” he asked Ella. “Do I still have a chance? Or does she hate my guts?”

  “Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Seems pretty diplomatic, so I don't think she hates your guts—yet.”

  “Yet?” Lance gave his sister a playful shove. “Get outta here, Honey Badger.”