The Pickup (Imperfect Love Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “Well, maybe we didn’t try hard enough. What does she have that I don’t, Nick?” Oh, hell no…there’s no way I’m going there, not even with a ten-foot pole...

  “Celeste, you’re a beautiful woman. You know this. But you’re my friend, and I can’t see you as anything more than that. Just like you don’t see me as anything more. If you’re scared I’m going to cheat on you, I wouldn’t do that. You know I’ve been cheated on, and I wouldn’t do that to someone else.” I walk over to the bathroom door.

  “I’m not scared of you cheating,” Celeste says, but the way her voice cracks as she says the words tells me otherwise. “It’s just…you spent an entire year only having one-night stands, and not once did you want more…until her.”

  “That might be true, but she left,” I point out, opening the bathroom door.

  “And now she’s back.”

  Celeste doesn’t wait for me to respond. She walks out of our room, and I watch her walk away, having no clue what to say to her to ease her mind. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I strip out of my clothes and jump into the shower. Celeste was right. I slept with way too many women last year, but it wasn’t until Olivia that I found myself wanting more. Fuck, how could I not? The chemistry between us was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

  Reaching down, I fist my cock as I think about her, my mind going back to our one and only night together. How brazen she was. The way she sucked and fucked me like a woman on a mission. How responsive her body was to my touch—the way we connected on a deeper level. My fist tightens around my hard shaft, stroking it up and down as I recall Olivia’s mouth around my cock. The way she took me with abandon.

  My fist pumps harder, my grip tightening. I can feel the pull in my balls beginning. My forehead hits the shower wall as I recall the way she rode my dick in the middle of the night. The way her tits bounced up and down. Her hands splayed across my chest as she milked my cock until it was completely drained. My fist tightens, my strokes get more frantic, as I chase my release. I remember the way she kissed me with such passion. The way her body felt against mine. The way we fit so goddamned perfectly together. Letting out a low groan, I watch my cum shoot out and coat the wall before the water washes it away.

  Letting go of my cock, I feel a sense of relief for about a minute, until it hits me that I just got off to the visual of Olivia, the mother of my son, the woman who isn’t my fiancée. And with that thought comes the sobering realization that this engagement isn’t going to last. So much has changed in the last couple of weeks. Everything I thought I wanted, I’m quickly realizing isn’t actually what I want at all. I’ve been living in denial, not wanting to deal with the reality of this situation—that when I got together with Celeste, it was because she was the safe choice. Olivia had just walked away, the New York Brewers’ owner and coach had said I needed to settle down, and Celeste was there, ready to make good on our pact. We were on the same page. But now, in light of recent events, I don’t think we’re even reading the same book.

  Finding out about my son was eye-opening, a game changer of sorts. I’ve spent all these years wishing things would change between my parents and me, but when I was injured and then Fiona left, I gave up. I took the easy way out. From the one-night stands to agreeing to the arrangement with Celeste. But now that I have my son to think about, I’m ready to try again. I’m ready to open my heart and be the type of father he deserves. The change has to start somewhere and what better place to begin than with my son and me.

  I flip the switch to turn the water off, grab a towel and dry off, then get dressed. Once I’m ready, I head out to the living room. Celeste is on the phone making plans, so I slip out quietly. Usually I’d call for a car service to keep it simple, but since I’m picking up my two-week-old son, I decide to grab one of my vehicles from the garage.

  The valet brings around my BMW X6—and even helps me install the car seat—and then I’m heading out to meet Killian. We meet at one of our favorite hole-in-the-wall cafés. New York may have many big-named restaurants, but it’s the small ones that nobody’s ever heard of that are actually the best.

  “Olivia is letting me take Reed tonight,” I say after the waitress sets our drinks down.

  “By yourself?” Killian looks at me incredulously.

  “Yes, by myself, dick.”

  Killian chuckles. “Calm down, I was just asking. So you’re not going to the New Year’s Eve party tonight?”

  “Nah, I know Olivia did that shit on purpose. Told me I could take him on one of the biggest party nights of the year.”

  “Hoping you would say you couldn’t,” Killian adds with a smirk.

  “Yep.” I take a sip of my water. “But I’m not about to choose a party over my son. That’s the shit my parents did, and my new goal in life is to be the opposite of them.”

  Killian nods in agreement. “Can’t go wrong there. I bet Celeste is pissed.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t really blame her. This isn’t what she signed up for. We agreed to no kids, and now here I am with one.”

  “Can you imagine Celeste with a baby?” Killian laughs so loud that people look our way. “I would pay half my salary to see her change a shit diaper!”

  I laugh along with him as I try to picture it—I can’t. The waitress comes over and takes our order. We both go with a Club sandwich and a salad.

  “Are you bringing Melissa to the New Year’s party tonight?” I ask Killian once the waitress walks away.

  “No.” Killian takes a sip of his drink. “She actually met someone, and I guess it’s serious.” He rolls his eyes. “She’s talking about moving across the country with him or some shit.” Killian’s been friends with her for years, and while I’m almost positive she’s always had a crush on him, he’s never shown interest in being anything other than friends with her. Guess she finally moved on.

  “So, who are you bringing then?” I ask.

  “Nobody special.” He shrugs nonchalantly then changes the subject, just like he always does when the topic of him dating gets brought up. “Are you heading over to get Reed after lunch?”

  “Yeah, wanna join me?” I’m only joking, but the truth is that I could definitely use the moral support when dealing with Olivia. Between her and her friend, I don’t stand a chance.

  “Hell no!” Killian laughs. “That’s all you. I have an appointment with Jase to get some ink added to my sleeve.” Killian lifts his shirt sleeve to show me where he’s planning to get the work done.

  “Damn, I need to go by and see their shop soon. That’s awesome that he and Jax opened a tattoo shop here in New York.” Jase Crawford is an old friend of mine and Killian’s from back home. Even though Jase was a couple years ahead of us, because we all played ball together, we ran in the same circles. While in school, Jase was also apprenticing to become a tattoo artist. Shortly after he graduated, he got a job at the same shop his brother Jax was working at. They always said their dream was to open their own place. But when Killian told me a few months ago that they opened their shop, Forbidden Ink, in East Village, I was surprised. Jase and Jax always seemed like the type of guys who’d prefer to live in a small town over a big city. New York definitely isn’t for everyone. It’s fast-paced and will eat you alive if you aren’t quick enough.

  “Planning to get some ink?” Killian jokes. While his body looks like an art canvas, I’ve never really considered getting a single tattoo. Guess there wasn’t ever anything worth putting permanently on my body.

  “Who knows?” I laugh. “If I were going to get one, he’s the guy I would trust to do it.”

  After we’re done having lunch, and Killian tells me he’s only a phone call away if I need any help with Reed, I head across the Brooklyn Bridge into Brooklyn Heights. I find fifteen-minute parking in front of Olivia’s brownstone and then head up, buzzing for her to let me in. See? I know how to work the intercom…

  When I get to her front door, her dad opens it up. He’s dressed to the nines in a thre
e-piece tux. He must’ve stopped here on his way to the team party. He enters the hallway and closes the door behind him instead of letting me inside. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  I’m confused as to what he’s talking about. “Coach—”

  “Not here. Outside of the locker room, I’m not your coach. I’m Stephen Harper, the father of the woman you created a baby with…a baby you initially said you didn’t want. I’m the grandfather to the baby you’re now demanding to take.”

  We commence in a stare-down for a few moments before he closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them back up, he says, “Just tell me this, are you taking him to prove something? To punish my daughter?”

  I take a second to think about my answer. Growing up I never had a man to look up to. When I was in college and then playing pro for North Carolina my coaches were assholes. It wasn’t until I was picked up by New York I felt like I truly found my place in the world, a place I felt at home, and a lot of it has to do with the man standing in front of me. The day we found out I slept with his daughter, our relationship changed. We should’ve had this talk a couple weeks ago, but like the men we are, we both avoided it.

  “I didn’t know she was your daughter.” I blow out a harsh breath. “I never would’ve slept with her had I known. I’m sorry for all of this. I never wanted to hurt her. You of all people know the shitty relationship I have with my dad. My initial response toward becoming a father was out of fear that I would end up like him. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I know my word doesn’t hold a lot of weight right now, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the relationship I have with Reed is nothing like the one I have with my parents. So, to answer your questions, I guess I’m trying to prove something to myself, but it isn’t to hurt Liv. I want to be a good dad.”

  “Okay,” he says, “as a father, I can respect that.” Without waiting for me to respond, he opens the door wide, allowing me to walk through first. There are several people here: Olivia, Giselle, her stepmom, and stepsister. They’re all sitting around her and appear to be comforting her.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, suddenly worried something has happened to Reed. The women all turn to face me, four pairs of glaring eyes that have me taking a step back.

  Olivia stands, wiping her eyes, her chin raising in defiance. “Yep.” Giselle goes to say something, but Olivia stops her. “No.” She shakes her head.

  “Is Reed okay?” Something is going on, but nobody is saying anything.

  “Yes.” She hands me a diaper bag. “Reed’s formula and bottles are in here, as well as a change of clothes and diapers and wipes in case you don’t have any yet. He usually eats every three hours, and he was just fed.” Her voice cracks, and I want to ask why she’s crying, but I don’t. “Do you have a car seat?”

  “Yeah, my car is parked in the short-term parking in front of your building.”

  She nods and heads down the hallway.

  “You’re such an asshole,” her stepsister hisses, but before I can ask what the hell I did, Olivia reappears holding Reed.

  “Okay, sweet boy,” she murmurs to him. “Mommy is going to miss you so much.” She gives him a kiss on his forehead, her eyes closing and her lips lingering. When her eyes open, the tears she’s trying to hide, escape. “I love you,” she whispers to him.

  She hands him over to me, and looking me dead in the eyes, she pleads, “Please take care of him.”

  “Of course.” I take him from her, and when he squirms slightly, I tighten my hold on him. “I’ll bring him back in the morning.”

  Since I’m almost positive every person in the room hates me, I quickly say goodbye as I head straight for the door.

  “Wait!” Olivia runs over and hands me a piece of paper. “This is my number. Can you please text me yours in case of an emergency? This paper also has Reed’s doctor’s information and anything else you need to know about him.”

  I take the paper from her. “I’ll text you once I get him settled in the car.”

  “Thank you.”

  The car ride back to my condo is uneventful, and after pulling up to the valet, the attendant informs me I can keep Reed in the car seat to bring him up. I give him a large tip in appreciation, and he laughs, telling me he has four kids and if I need any help, to ask.

  When I get inside, I see Celeste is dressed in a floor-length silver gown. Her hair and makeup are done, and she looks beautiful as always. I set the car seat down on the coffee table, and she comes over to check him out.

  “He looks just like you, Nick.” She smiles, but it’s sad.

  “Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” I grin. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I spoke with Mercedes, and she referred me to Quality Nanny. I wasn’t sure with it being New Year’s Eve, but they were able to find a nanny who’s available.” Mercedes is a model Celeste is friends with, who recently had a baby. She’s also the wife to Brandon Evers, one of the linebackers on our team.

  Carefully taking Reed out of his car seat, I place him into the swing and click it on just as the YouTube video I watched showed me how to do. “I told you I’m not going out. Olivia let me take him for the night. I’m not leaving him with a nanny.”

  “You act like nobody leaves their children with a nanny. You loved yours growing up,” she insists, and she’s right, I did love Ms. Kelley. She was beyond sweet and maternal in a way my mother had no desire to be. When Celeste would come over after school, Ms. Kelley would make us snacks and take us to the park and on picnics.

  “I know they do, and you’re right, I did love Ms. Kelley. But I saw more of her than my own parents. It’s not happening. I can’t let it happen. You want to go out, go.”

  “We were supposed to go together. As a couple. It’s your team party. I can’t believe you’re really going to make me go alone.” She snatches her handbag off the table, and with a huff, swings the door open and slams it shut behind her.

  The loud sound reverberates through the walls and Reed starts to cry. “Hey there, little guy.” I stop the swing and pluck him out, giving him his pacifier since it’s not quite time for him to eat yet. Sitting down on the couch with Reed, I set him between my legs and create a vibrating motion with my thighs by shaking my feet back and forth. I read that a lot of parents do this to help calm their babies down. Within minutes, his cries cease and soon after he’s asleep. Afraid that if I move in any way he’ll wake up, I carefully reach for the remote control and turn the television on and then switch the channel to ESPN.

  I’m not sure how long I watch the highlights of today’s game for, but when Reed starts to stretch his tiny little body, I glance outside and see it’s already dark out. His pacifier drops out of his mouth as he starts to cry. Taking him with me, I grab a bottle from the diaper bag to feed him, but it’s empty. Then I remember Olivia had to put stuff in it. With one hand holding him, I use my other hand to sift through the bag. I find a can of formula and pop the lid open. It’s powder and smells like shit. Do I add water or milk?

  Reed’s cries get louder as he grows more frustrated by the second. “Hold on, little guy.” He was asleep for a while, so I imagine he must be starving. I read the back of the can and it says to mix with water, but it doesn’t state how much he should take.

  Remembering I have Olivia’s number, I dial her. It barely rings once before she answers. “Everything okay?” She sounds distraught.

  “Yeah,” I answer her over Reed’s crying. His face is now red, and hot tears are pouring down his face.

  “Nick, why is he crying?”

  “He’s hungry, but I don’t know how much he takes.”

  She’s quiet for a second, and I think I hear her sniffle. Then she says, “I included it all on the paper I gave you.” The paper! I should’ve read the paper. I only glanced at it long enough to get her number from it.

  “Okay, thanks! I’m sorry for bothering you.”

  “You’re not a bother. You have our son. Please call
me if you need anything.”

  We hang up, and after reading the directions on the paper she gave me, I make Reed a bottle and feed it to him. His cries stop immediately, and a few minutes later, his entire bottle is gone and he’s content once again. Laying him down on the ottoman in front of me, I snap a few pictures of him and send them to Olivia, figuring she might enjoy seeing them. She texts back a thank you.

  “All right little man, it’s just you and me bringing in the new year together. What do you want to do?”

  Reed kicks his feet out.

  “Sorry, buddy. No partying for you, you’re too young.” Reed’s feet start kicking faster and faster. He looks like he’s becoming agitated, and then a second later he starts to cry. I pick him up and walk him over to the swing. He seemed to like it earlier. I set him in it and try to give him his pacifier, but he immediately spits it out, his cries getting louder. Well, hell. He can’t still be hungry. Maybe he needs to be changed?

  Taking him out of his swing, I bring him into his room and place him on the changing table. I go about changing his diaper, and after several attempts of trying to get the tabs to stick, it works and he’s in a fresh diaper, but the crying continues.

  Not wanting to bug Olivia—and if I’m honest, I want to prove I can handle being a dad on my own—I pull up a baby site the sales associate told me about and search reasons for babies to cry. Holy fuck! There’s like a hundred different reasons!

  “Okay, let’s go down this list,” I say out loud to Reed, who isn’t listening. I go through each reason, one by one: Hungry, wet diaper, fever, teething, constipation…the list keeps going. I haven’t the slightest clue about half this shit. One reason for a baby to cry is being overtired. He just woke up from a nap, but then again, I have no idea how long babies stay awake for. Could he already be tired again? A mom mentions that she takes her baby for walks or for a drive when he’s tired and needs help going to sleep. Spotting the car seat in the corner, I set Reed in it and buckle him in.

  About two minutes into our drive, Reed’s cries get louder, angrier. It sounds nothing like his cry of hunger. It’s painful to listen to. I glance in the review mirror into the mirror facing his seat. His face is bright red, and my heart begins to pound as I consider something might be wrong with him.