by Nikki Ash
Giselle smiles back. “I know…it’s been a long time.”
“Okay, I’ll get us drinks and then find you guys,” I say, wanting to give them some privacy. They obviously have a lot of catching up to do.
Giselle throws her arms around me in a tight hug and whispers, “Go find a guy to get under.” I just shake my head. Earlier, she told me the best way to get over a break up is to get under someone else. I love Giselle to death, but she’s freaking crazy.
She and Christian head to a booth nearby, and I go to the bar to order us a drink. The club is packed, and the bartenders seem to be picking and choosing who they’re serving. I attempt to get their attention, waving my bill in the air, but it’s not happening.
Just as I’m about to give up and go beg Giselle to dance on the bar to get their attention, I feel a whisper of a breath in my ear. “Can I buy you a drink?” I turn slightly to see who the owner of the voice is and find myself staring at one of the most sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on. Messy light brown hair that looks like he just climbed out of bed, dark green eyes that scream trouble, and day-old scruff that has me clenching my legs together as I imagine his face buried between my thighs. I back up slightly to get a better look at him. He’s built but not bulky—lean and fit. He’s dressed in an expensive light green button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop even more.
My eyes drag back up to his face and land on his cocky grin, telling me he knows how hot he is. He knows he can get any woman he wants, and that look has me wanting to show him that not every woman bows down to guys like him. When I politely tell him I can buy my own drink, he laughs, and the melodic yet masculine sound has my insides melting. He shoots one glance over to the bartender near us, and she comes running our way. Of course he has no problem getting the female bartender’s attention.
We order.
We drink.
We dance.
And several hours later, I do the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my twenty-four years. I invite him back to my hotel room, where we have the hottest, most passionate night of sex I’ve ever experienced. Our chemistry is undeniable and off the charts, and for a moment I think about what it would be like to be with this man again. But I quickly check that thought, remembering what this was about. My attempt at getting under someone to get over someone else.
The next morning, I wake up and leave him sleeping in my bed.
I check-out.
I have breakfast with my dad.
I board my flight.
I arrive home.
My luggage gets lost.
A week later it’s found.
Three weeks after that I find out I’m pregnant.
Giselle and I search the football roster for a Cole, hoping we might find him on there. He did mention he loves—and hates—to play football. Giselle calls Christian to see if maybe he’s heard of him. They only briefly met, but it’s worth a try. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know who he is.
I ask my dad—as nonchalantly as possible—if he knows a Cole. He says he doesn’t.
I search the headshots on the ESPN sites. What I don’t take into account is that because he’s a free agent, he hasn’t been put on the roster since the season hasn’t officially begun.
So, I do the only thing I can do. I move on with my life with my growing baby inside me. I don’t tell anyone how much it hurts every time I think about my baby never knowing his father. I keep it to myself how much my heart breaks whenever I think about being a single mom. Not because I can’t do it, but because that’s not what I want. I wanted the fairytale like my parents had. I wanted the happily-ever-after. There’s no Disney book where the mom gets knocked up from a one-night stand and raises the baby alone.
When my dad asks who the father is, I tell him the truth. It was a one-night stand. I can hear his disappointment. I was raised to believe in the power of love. He’s been with two women his entire life: my mom and my stepmom.
He asks me to come home.
I agree to come back temporarily.
Giselle graduates in December, and we pack up the flat and head to New York.
I’ve been here for three weeks, focusing on buying a place and then getting it ready for my baby.
My dad asks me to attend a game since I haven’t been to one all season.
I look out from the owner’s suite and see him.
The father of my baby.
Six
Nick
“Olivia, honey. What the hell happened?” Coach Harper asks his daughter.
“He…” She points directly at me, her perfectly manicured fingernail pressing into my chest. “He said his name was Cole! Not Nick!”
“My name is Nicholas,” I point out, “and what does it matter what I’m called?”
“It matters”—her voice raises several levels—“because I looked for you! I searched the roster for Cole! I asked my dad if he knew of a Cole!” This woman is so mad right now, I’m thankful she doesn’t have a weapon in her possession, because if she did, I would be a dead man. I can’t imagine her getting this worked up is good for her, and really…what is she so mad about? I’m the one finding out a one-night stand I had nine months ago—who I might add, left me—might’ve left me a father. Something I’ve decided this past year I’m not at all interested in becoming.
“First of all, you’re the one who walked out the door the morning after, leaving me with nothing but a ‘thanks for the fuck’ note. Second of all, I’m not sure you should be yelling and screaming and getting all worked up in your condition.”
And I don’t think that was the right thing to say because that finger that was in my chest a moment ago becomes several fingers as she pushes my chest in frustration.
“It was a one-night stand! What did you want from me? To ask you to marry me? I was leaving back to Paris! And this…” She points to her belly. “It’s not a goddamn condition! It’s called pregnancy, you moron!”
I hold my hands up in a placating manner. “Okay…but I don’t get why you’re yelling at me. You left me that morning. I woke up, and you were gone. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She looks around the silent locker room as if just now realizing our conversation is taking place in front of the entire New York Brewers football team. Using a lower, more controlled tone, she says, “Umm…maybe because you said your name was Cole when everybody else calls you NICK! And…you’re the one who put me in this condition, as you call it.”
Oh. Hell. No. “Like fucking hell I did…we used protection. You better go figure out who else you slept with that you didn’t use protection with.” I shrug. Glad we cleared that shit up.
I turn to walk away not wanting to continue this pointless conversation. The locker room is still radio silent, and then I hear a loud screech. I turn back around to see what the hell that noise is when I’m decked in the head with a hard object. I grab the side of my face as it radiates with pain. “What the fuck!”
I look down, and there’s a water bottle rolling across the ground. “Did you just throw that at me?”
“You’re lucky that’s all I did!” she shrieks again, this time grabbing a Gatorade bottle off the table and chucking it at me. I duck out of the way this time as the bottle hits the wall with a bang.
“Coach, get your crazy fucking daughter away from me.”
“I’m going to kill him,” she says to her dad, and then she’s coming after me. Thankfully, her father pulls her back before she reaches me.
“Olivia, calm down, please.” She relaxes slightly at his words, but then her eyes go wide, and she looks down. There’s liquid dripping down her leg. Is she so upset she peed herself? My conscience gets the best of me, and I almost feel bad. I didn’t want to upset a pregnant woman. She’s clearly distraught over not knowing who the father of her baby is.
“Dad,” she whispers, her voice coming out soft, reminding me of the woman I met at the club and spent the night getting to know in the most intimate way. “It’s too early.” She shakes her
head then glances toward me, tears welling up and glossing over her brown eyes.
Her dad looks down at the puddle, and he must know something I don’t, because he says, “Let’s get you to the hospital.” Our argument completely forgotten, she nods in agreement. Holding onto her arm, he walks her through the locker room while pulling out his cell phone and calling someone. “Corrine, can you pull the car around? Olivia is in labor.” Well shit, apparently peeing yourself means you’re about to have a baby.
Killian’s eyes meet mine with shock and worry. “Are you going to go to the hospital?”
“For what?” I step around the mess on the floor as the janitor comes over to mop it up.
“She’s about to have your baby.” He says the words slowly like I’m an idiot.
“She’s about to have a baby.” I shake my head. “Not mine.”
“Nick, is there any chance that kid could be yours?”
I think back to that night. I was tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk. I’m positive we used protection: in the bed, against the dresser, me on top, her on top…Fuck! Did we use one when I woke up in the middle of the night and pulled her on top of me?
“Nick.” Killian pulls me out of my memory. “Are you one hundred percent sure?”
“I-I’m pretty sure.” But as I say the words, I know they might be a lie.
“If there’s any chance you could be the dad, you need to go to that hospital. You don’t want to live with that regret, man.” His words sound ominous, almost like he can empathize with what I’m going through.
* * *
Killian drives me to the hospital in his car, since we drove together this morning. I was hoping to get in the doors without being seen, but it’s just my luck the fucking paparazzi followed us here. It shouldn’t surprise me, though. With Killian driving his fucking Bugatti, we stick out like a damn sore thumb. He drives me around to the side, but there’s no way to get in other than through the main doors or the emergency room entrance.
“Fuck it. I’m just going to have to make a run for it.”
“Good luck, man. I’d wait in the waiting room for you, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to you. Text me once you know anything.” Killian pats me on my back before I jump out of his car.
Photos are taken and questions are slung my way, but I ignore them all. When I get inside, I’m met by none other than my dad and Amber, my publicist. They pull me into a private room where nobody can overhear our conversation.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” My publicist, I understand, as it’s her job to keep my name squeaky clean. Plus, I called her on my way over here. But I’m not sure why my dad would fly all the way from North Carolina when he could just call me or Amber. And how the hell did he get here so fast?
“Your mother and I flew in last night for the game!” he barks. “In case you forgot you’re in the middle of the goddamned playoffs!”
“Yeah, I’m well aware,” I snap.
“So, is it true?” he asks. “Did you knock up this woman?”
“I-I don’t know. She says the baby is mine, and we did spend the night together...” I can’t believe this is happening. The last thing I wanted was to be a dad. I had it in my head being a father wasn’t in the cards for me.
“Damn it, Nick! Have you not listened to a single word I’ve said to you over the years!” My dad shakes his head in disappointment. He’s engrained it into my head a million times over the years to be careful. Too many guys end up paying half of everything they’ve earned by being cavalier when it comes to wrapping their dicks up. I also think, while he’s never said it, him knocking up my mom meant he was forced to marry her. I’ve never asked them, but I’m almost positive my dad has cheated on my mom several times over the years—and vice versa.
“You have everything going for you,” he continues. “You have your career back, your personal life is on track. I can’t believe you would be this careless.” He curses under his breath as he storms out of the room.
Jesus, he’s acting like I’m the first guy in professional sports to get a woman pregnant by accident. He’s a damn sport’s agent. Half his clients probably have kids from one-night stands.
“Did you call my dad on your way here?” I ask Amber once my dad is gone.
“No, but I’m pretty sure it got leaked by a fan or someone. There’s footage of the pregnant woman and Coach Harper leaving the stadium, and then you and Killian following almost directly after.”
“Her name is Liv…Olivia. She’s Coach Harper’s daughter.”
Amber’s eyes go wide. “I’ll make a statement right away. I’ll keep it simple. We don’t know anything at this time, and you’re requesting privacy while you get it sorted.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.
“All right, thank you.”
Seven
Olivia
My feet are in the stirrups, and the doctor is sitting between my legs. When we arrived several hours ago, I was checked in and then brought back to labor and delivery. The nurse hooked me up to several monitors and took my blood. When I requested an epidural for the pain, she frowned apologetically and said I was already too far along for it, but she could give me some pain reliever. Once I was situated, I called Giselle to fill her in, and she immediately left her mom’s house to meet me here. The doctor has come by numerous times to check on my progress, and my family has been in and out of my room to make sure I’m okay throughout my labor. A few minutes ago, after checking on the baby’s status once again, the doctor informed me it’s time to push.
Since I made the decision to only have Giselle in the room with me when I give birth, my dad is outside with Corrine and Shelby, while Giselle is next to me currently holding my hand.
“Okay, Olivia. Here comes a contraction,” the doctor says. “Push for me.” I push through the contraction, and the pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I almost feel bad I might break Giselle’s hand from squeezing it too hard. “That’s good…and relax.” This process goes on and on and on for God knows how long. Each push hurts worse than the last. My body is tiring out.
And then finally in the middle of another push, the doctor says, “I see hair. You’re close.” I stop pushing, taking a small break, and wait for the next one to hit. My throat is dry from screaming and exerting myself, and I’m seriously questioning this so-called pain reliever the nurse insisted she gave me.
“Sir, you can’t go in there!” the nurse shouts, and I look over to see Cole’s large frame filling the doorway.
“I might be the father,” he says, ignoring her and walking inside. I’m about to kick him out when another contraction hits, and I find myself pushing.
“Oh my God!” I scream in pain.
“Keep going. Keep going,” the doctor commands. “There he is!” My body finds relief as the doctor holds the baby up. “Congratulations.”
The nurse comes over and cleans up my baby boy, then she sucks all the stuff out of his nose. He’s screaming and crying, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?” the doctor asks Nick, and I shoot him a warning glare, which he ignores—Nick, not the doctor.
“Oh, I’m not a doctor.” Nick shakes his head, and the doctor chuckles while I roll my eyes.
“I know, I am. Sometimes the dads like to cut the umbilical cord that connects the mother to the baby.”
Nick nods and slowly steps forward. The nurse holds my baby while the doctor hands Nick the scissors to cut the umbilical cord. I want to yell at him and tell him not to touch anything involving my baby. Not even a few hours ago he was accusing me of lying and saying the baby isn’t even his. But I don’t say a word because I can’t. My heart is pained, and there’s a huge lump in my throat. This was supposed to be my husband cutting the umbilical cord. I read about this in a baby book. It’s a tradition for men to feel like they’re part of the delivery—to help establish an emotional connection between the father and the baby. Tears blur my vision
as I watch Nick carefully cut the cord. I feel Giselle’s hand on my shoulder, and when I look up, she’s snapping pictures with her phone camera. I, both, hate and love her for that.
“Good job!” the doctor says, taking the scissors back from Nick, who nods once and backs up out of the way. The nurse finishes cleaning off my still-crying baby, then she wraps him up in a blanket and places him on my chest. “Shh…it’s okay,” I coo. “Mommy has you.” I bring my hands up to hold him as his warm body rests against mine. “I love you, baby boy.” I place a kiss on his forehead.
“I’m going to get him checked out,” the nurse says, taking him from me far too soon. “As soon as you’re stitched up and moved to recovery, I’ll bring the baby to you.”
I watch as she takes my entire world away from me. “Is he okay?” I ask another nurse. “I wasn’t due for a few more weeks.”
“We’ll know more once the tests are run, but he seems perfect.” I close my eyes in relief as everybody bustles around me getting the room cleaned up. The doctor lets me know the placenta has passed, then he stitches up a cut he had to make so I didn’t tear. I’m lifted and transferred to a clean bed, given a fresh gown, and moved to a new room.
The entire time I feel Cole still lingering in the background, but I ignore him. I have nothing to say to that asshole. He might’ve been the best sex of my life, and I’ll never regret that night because it gave me the most precious miracle in the world, but still…fuck him.
Once I’m situated in my new room, my dad, Corrine, and Shelby come in and join Giselle and me. That’s when I notice Cole isn’t here anymore. Well good fucking riddance. “We saw the baby being brought to the nursery for tests. He’s beautiful,” Corrine gushes, and I smile.
“I took like a million pictures.” Giselle holds her phone out for me to take.
“Thank you!” I pull her in for a hug before I begin swiping through each photo.
