Winner Takes All

by Sandra Kitt

  “Tell me something funny about him. Tell me something that surprised you.”

  Patrick chewed and thought. And then a smile played around his mouth. “So Nico and I and my mom went out for breakfast that first Saturday morning…”

  “After you awoke and found him sleeping next to you.”

  His smile grew, becoming warm and whimsical with the memory. “Yeah. And my mom asked Nico if he knew how to cook. And of course he shook his head and said he was too little. And she asked if he liked brownies, and his eyes grew into saucers and he says, ‘Yeeeaaahhh!’” Patrick imitated him, making Jean chuckle. “My mom says, well, I’m going to need your help because I’m going to make some brownies, and I need you to lick the bowl. I don’t think he quite understood what that meant. But later, Mom actually had him mixing and stirring and eating samples after they were done. Nico said to her that if she needed him, he could come again and help lick the bowl.”

  “Aww,” Jean cooed.

  “Don’t do that,” Patrick said, his voice cracking. He shifted position and averted his gaze.

  Jean realized he was actually becoming emotional over the incident. And she knew it was already a story that was going to become legend.

  They tired of the popcorn and took everything to the kitchen. Again, almost in silence, comfortable in the way they navigated around each other, they went into the bedroom to take up the places they’d made for themselves together. They undressed each other. And Jean was not at all surprised—she was content—when the lights were out, and the ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and they loosely embraced with deep sighs.

  “So this is the game plan,” Patrick croaked quietly. “We cuddle, and we go to sleep. In the morning…we rock the boat. What do you think?”

  Jean giggled. “I like it. And no cheating. No waking me up in the middle of the night to—”

  Patrick silenced Jean by leaning over to lightly kiss her. “I don’t promise, but I’ll do my best.” He yawned. “Love you.”

  Jean sighed, her happiness revived…and her hope for the future.

  “Night. Love you too.”

  Chapter 17

  Jean didn’t for a moment begrudge Patrick the wonderful discovery and unexpected addition to his life, his family. But she could no longer pretend to herself that she didn’t feel somewhat left out as a result. It was doubly ironic that, almost the moment they’d finally confessed their love for each other, Patrick was pulled away and engulfed in, arguably, an even greater love—that for his newfound son.

  Was she being monumentally selfish? Or painfully insecure?

  Who was to blame for Patrick’s heart having been captured by a five-year-old with big brown eyes and a winning personality? It simply meant that, understandably, he was faced with a different set of priorities. It was no longer clear to Jean that she was on that list.

  He’d already told her that, eventually, he would have to get a bigger place so there was more room for a rambunctious, active little boy. He’d have to come to civil agreement with his ex about schools after kindergarten. Private? Boarding? Patrick could well afford it, but he’d shared with Katie that the right public school would better prepare his son for a diverse world and learning how to navigate it. After all, the system had done very well by the two of them. Summer vacations? Holidays? Who would get to have Nico when?

  And when would Jean get to have Patrick?

  Jean liked that he trusted her judgment and could talk openly with her about the growing number of parental issues popping up in his life. She knew it was a privilege. She knew he’d arrived at a point, after the stresses of the summer—and a lot of extra money—where the list of people he openly brought into his circle had shrunk. She had reminded him that she had no children and was inadequate at giving any kind of advice. He’d laughed.

  “Consider it training.”

  Her mother had counseled her. “It will all work out. It always does.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t find that reassuring.”

  “Okay, I get it. You’re in love with him. You’re on uneven ground, and it keeps shifting. I know what that’s like.”

  “Weren’t you angry or scared when Dad and you couldn’t marry? Or even be together with me?”

  “Sure. I wanted Seth to step up to the plate. He loved me, and I never doubted that. But time and history and our folks were formidable obstacles. And I haven’t even counted on the unforeseen and nasty surprises. Not that I’m taking Patrick’s side, but try to look at his circumstances from his point of view. Seventy-five mil, give or take a few hundred thousand, doesn’t make up for the aggravation of the real world and day-to-day life. I guess some people revel in that kind of excitement; he clearly does not.”

  “Sorry, but you do sound like you’re on his side.”

  “I hope you know I’m always on your side. But I understand his. And so did you until Nico…is that his name?”

  “Nickname. It’s Nicholas.”

  “I like it. Until he came along and pulled the carpet out from under your feet…and Patrick’s. Find a way to deal with it, Jean. Try not to let your heart get broken. Try not to give up on your love for Patrick. It will all work out.”

  In the middle of the night, Jean tried to. But it was hard. And it was painful. And it was lonely.

  And everyone seemed to know.

  A few nights after the surprise sleepover with Patrick, Jean went to a party at Annabelle’s. It was noisy and crowded in Annabelle’s small Upper West Side one bedroom, but entertaining with her usual mishmash of unrelated friends. Annabelle loved bringing diverse people together.

  “Girl, I haven’t seen you in ages. Always happens. Bring a guy into the picture, and all the girlfriends fill with lust and get dreamy-eyed.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, yeah you do. Anyway, all the newspaper reports about your Patrick talk about a beautiful woman connected with the mayor’s office who has been seen out and about with said Patrick during the summer. And obviously you missed a photo of the two of you having a cozy dinner at some tiny dive in the East Village. Thought no one would notice? Please.”

  “Is there a lot of talk about me?”

  Annabelle smiled kindly at Jean. “Look, I know you’re kind of a private person, so all of this is probably not making you very happy. It might be a lot easier if this Patrick would openly admit to the relationship and let it fly. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Right now, a lot. You probably also know about his son. The one Patrick only learned about recently.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Does that bother you?”

  Jean sighed and sipped her wine. “I’m very happy for Patrick.”

  Annabelle stared at her. “That wasn’t the question I asked.”

  Jean managed not to give a direct answer, and Annabelle dropped the matter, caught up in being hostess to her disparate group of friends and acquaintances.

  Yes, Jean had missed the photo Annabelle referred to. But she’d caught a clip of Patrick heading into the offices of the lawyers representing him. He’d looked cool and calm behind super dark shades, casual business attire, but not the formality of a suit. He did not wear a baseball cap or lower his gaze or hide his face behind a newspaper. He was fully accepting of the public scrutiny and curiosity about the most recent upheaval in his very public life.

  Then there was the afternoon when Jean had seen a still shot of him covertly escorting a little boy, his son, into a waiting vehicle to whisk away to a place unknown.

  But at least she’d finally seen Nico.

  Patrick sat on a panel at Brooklyn Academy of Music. The subject was athletic greats who never got the attention they deserved during their playing days. Patrick had arranged for Jean to attend as his guest. Not as a rep for the mayor’s office, but as his lady, as he’d taken to referring to Jean.
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  When the panel and Q&A were over, the panelists had been escorted into an alcove to sign autographs. Patrick excused himself. On the alert, Jean had followed as he’d explored a lone corridor and found an unlocked and empty theater. Patrick pulled her inside with him and into his arms. It was not crazed groping, like teenagers, but a true romantic embrace of a man and woman who cared deeply for each other and had not enough time to show it. There was a sweet kind of desperation to them sneaking away to hug and kiss, and it made them laugh at the absurdity and necessity.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” Patrick groaned, pulling kisses from her lips and not giving Jean a chance to respond.

  But she didn’t disagree.

  His uncertainty and fear about what he was learning about a five-year-old were poignant to Jean. And it was wonderful to do nothing more than hold each other for real comfort. No other action needed.

  * * *

  Patrick had gotten a pass from ESPN to host the girl’s little league event. When the sports clinic Jean and Brad had helped to arrange for Patrick finally came about, it had never occurred to her that he might bring his son along. That was how Jean first met Nico.

  The day was organized to last no more than three hours, due to threatening rain. Besides the kids, there were also parents, and a discreet group of reporters and photographers that Brad had arranged for. It was a great photo-op event, and she and Brad wanted to use the day to promote similar community events in the city. There was a rumor that the mayor might show up, but Jean knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  She’d milled about at the start with some of the parents, casually questioning them about this workshop for their kids with a former league baseball player and TV star. Jean witnessed the kids’ excitement, but they were too young to think much more of Patrick’s appearance than that he used to play pro baseball.

  When Patrick came out onto the diamond, a small little figure trudging right behind him, she sat up straight, staring at this child who was Patrick’s. She could not fully describe the feelings that coursed through her, that twisted in her chest and seemed to constrict her heart. But Jean experienced an emotion that went far beyond the love she felt for Patrick.

  Patrick was easy and open and accessible to the kids, parents, and coaches. He introduced his son. He started out talking to the gathering about professional sports and what was needed to fulfill dreams of playing in the big leagues. He told them how it was discovered when he’d already started college that he had a talent for baseball. Patrick told the girls’ team that they were starting at the right age. He put the kids through simple routines and exercises, ostensibly to see what they had, but it was just to keep them moving and busy. For a while, Nico mixed with the much bigger kids, trying to keep up. Jean could see that Patrick carefully kept an eye on the child, until it was clear that Nico’s attention and energy were failing him, and he stopped.

  Patrick went to his son, crouching down beside him, questioning him for a few minutes. Jean could see the boy either nodding or shaking his head at the questions. Finally, Patrick stood, looking around the field and seating benches. And he spotted her. Jean spontaneously gave a half wave in acknowledgment. Then, Patrick pointed her out to Nico, and after a few more minutes, he stood watching as the youngster made his way to the stands and joined her in her otherwise-empty row.

  Nico sat right next to her, his feet not quite reaching the ground.

  “My daddy told me to sit with you.”

  “Oh, okay. My name is Jean. What’s your name?”

  “Nicholas. But everybody calls me Nico.”

  “I like that. Can I call you Nico?”

  He nodded silently.

  She tried to watch what was happening on the playing field between Patrick and the Little League team, but Jean was very conscious of Nico’s presence next to her. She was solidly aware now that this child was Patrick’s. She accepted that Nico was a forever presence in Patrick’s life. Jean didn’t know if she ever would be.

  Nico suddenly shrugged and raised his hands. “I can’t see.”

  Jean focused on his comment and looked around. The benches were all ground level, and not stadium seating. He was too short to see past the many rows in front of him.

  “Maybe if you stand up…”

  Nico pushed himself off the bench and stood in front, leaning back on the edge.

  “Is that better?”

  “No,” he said plaintively, shaking his head.

  She looked around for another solution, a different vantage point. She glanced at Nico, with his thick, dark, tousled hair, not unlike his father’s.

  “Would you like to sit on my lap?”

  “Okay,” he said readily.

  Without any help or further encouragement from Jean, Nico climbed on the bench and then swung his leg over Jean’s lap, plunking himself down.

  “Now I can see,” he said triumphantly.

  “Good.”

  For a long time, he watched the action on the field, occasionally fidgeting and shifting his position, making comments or asking questions. Jean had to make up many of her answers. Nico sometimes began a conversation that seemed to be mostly with himself or hummed a tuneless melody. Every now and then, Jean automatically reached to put an arm around him to hold him steady but didn’t. She could no longer concentrate on Patrick or what was going on with the team. She was only acutely aware of this small creature comfortably seated on her lap. He was warm, active, unexpected, and he fascinated her. Other than brief visits to cousins on her mother’s side who’d begun to marry and have children, Jean never had an opportunity to be around small children.

  Jean wondered how Patrick was managing with this new, even more significant change in his life. How was he feeling, having to adjust to acknowledging a son he had no previous awareness of? She didn’t want to make up the story. After all, she had no idea what it must be like. Had Patrick fallen in love with this child, or was he still trying to find a place in his heart for this small stranger?

  She realized when Nico was getting tired, losing interest in the activities that he wasn’t a part of. He yawned and stretched and, abruptly, relaxed back against Jean’s chest, his head and curly hair just inches below her chin. Now she did allow herself to loosely place an arm around him, holding him in place. She searched out Patrick, but in that moment, he was physically engaged in a demonstration for the team. He was distracted but clearly trusted she and his son were both okay together.

  Patrick was instantly surrounded by more than a dozen little kids when the afternoon was finished, who each wanted to high-five him as they were led away by parents or older siblings. He stood talking with the coaches, laughing and engaged, and now and again casting a glance toward Jean and Nico. Finally, after shaking hands with everyone, Patrick consented to pose for pictures with anyone requesting more of his time. The photographer from Jean’s office and a young reporter in particular continued to take pictures and interviewed Patrick for usable quotes.

  People were still making their way from the park when he approached. Nico had been very still, but Jean wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or was just happy sitting quietly.

  Patrick briefly massaged her shoulder from behind before bending to look into his son’s face.

  “Hey. Ready to go?”

  Nico’s response was to nod silently and wiggle from Jean’s lap. Over the top of his head, Patrick exchanged a silent and grateful glance with her. A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  Jean followed them from the seating area to the entrance of the park. She had brief words with the two staffers from her office, telling them they were free to leave. Patrick pulled a new, unused baseball from his pocket and handed it to his son.

  “This is for you.”

  “It’s mine? Thank you!” Nico said with the kind of reverence only a small child who loved surprises could manage with c
harming sincerity. He clutched the ball, staring at it and rotating it in his hands.

  Patrick turned to Jean. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “Brad gave me the assignment to set this up.”

  “Thank you, Brad.” Patrick grinned. “Thank you for staying. I didn’t have a chance to introduce you to Nicholas. I hope it was okay to send him to sit with you.”

  “We managed on our own. We learned each other’s names.”

  “Sounds like you’re already friends. I’m not surprised.”

  Jean watched him, watching her. She knew he was trying to gauge her thoughts, her feelings. In a frustrating sense, it felt like they were back to the beginning of their relationship. All the summer blowups had been annoying but manageable. Patrick’s latest situation was complicated. And permanent.

  She didn’t know what to say to him. For the moment, she only knew how she felt, and her confusion was compounding her anxiety and helplessness. She was in love with Patrick, and that absolute truth was contributing to feeling in limbo. A major part of their connection had been clarified, had been a balm. But a future seemed more distant than ever.

  Jean’s gaze turned to the little boy, who was tossing his new ball and mimicking base running. He was getting fidgety again. Nico approached and patted Patrick on the leg to get his attention. “Can we go, now? I’m hungry.”

  “I bet you are,” Jean said with understanding.

  “Come with us,” Patrick said suddenly.

  Jean looked to Patrick. She shook her head. “You don’t get that much time with him, Patrick. You’re still getting to know each other. I’ll be a distraction.”

  “I don’t get that much time with you either. Don’t you think that’s crazy?”

  “What I think is that it can’t be helped.”

  “I disagree, and I have a plan to do something about it. For right now, I can offer pizza with me and Nico, and we’ll take you home.”

  Jean turned her attention to Patrick’s son, who was patiently waiting. “Is it okay if I have dinner with you and your father?”