by Caisey Quinn
“So do you,” he chokes out. “God, Corin, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to—”
“Read the letter, Skylar. Then we can talk.”
He nods and turns his attention to the piece of paper covered in cursive blue ink. It’s written on hotel stationary—I’m guessing the hotel where she died. Fallon Kensington clearly knew how to make an entrance and an exit.
While Skylar reads in silence, Katie pins me with a smile and eyes full of sympathy. His mom pours another glass of wine and I’m tempted to join her.
Time slows to a crawl as we wait for Skylar to finish but it’s two pages front and back. He flips the last one over and sighs as if he’s just been handed the weight of the world.
The room is so quiet I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.
“She says he is my son. And she was scared and didn’t know what to do so her mom and dad were given full custody. But she doesn’t want them to raise him—mostly because of the way they raised her. She says they think this is their second chance to fix the ways they wronged her but she doesn’t trust them.”
“Who does she want to raise him?” It’s a dumb question and I know the answer before the words are out of my mouth.
His mom chimes in for the first time. “We can help,” she says softly, reaching out to touch his hand.
Katie nods in agreement.
“Me,” Skylar says, dropping the final bomb my body can withstand. “She wants me to fight them. She wants me to have full custody of my son.”
I re-read Fallon’s final words a dozen times, hearing them in my head in her voice. And I stare at the picture of my son.
My son.
It still doesn’t seem real and maybe it won’t until I see him for myself. Which I have to figure out how to do and soon. Fallon was very clear in her letter that her parents have no intention of giving him up and that they were never going to even tell me about him.
Corin and I haven’t had a second alone since we got here. She read the letter and started giving orders to my mom and sister about scheduling a paternity test and calling our family lawyer as well as finding out who the Kensingtons will get to represent them and an original copy of the birth certificate and custody agreement. Even my dad made an appearance and called our attorney to set up a meeting tomorrow as Corin instructed. In my nearly twenty-four years I’ve never seen my dad take orders from anyone.
My girl is going to kick major ass in law school.
God I hope she’s still my girl.
But I know her and I know what she’s doing. She’s keeping busy on the frontlines to avoid the heartbreak she’s battling below the surface.
Somewhere around two a.m. we decide to call it a night and make our way to my bedroom.
Physically, emotionally, and mentally spent, I struggle to find the right words once we’re alone.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as we both change into pajamas. The sight of her bare skin still turns me on but even my dick is exhausted from the day’s events.
“I can’t change what’s happened, but I owe you an explanation,” I say once she sits on the bed.
“We don’t have to do this tonight,” she tells me.
“We do. And we should. I should’ve told you about that night a long time ago.”
“But you didn’t.” There’s no judgment in her tone, just a statement of fact and an unspoken question. Why didn’t you?
“I wanted to.” I shake my head. “No, that’s a lie. I wanted to pretend it never happened.” I take a deep breath and gather the truth in the best order that I can arrange it. “When I left for Brazil, I thought you were done with me. You’d chosen to focus on school and I understood that. It hurt like hell, but honestly, I wouldn’t have bet on me either so I got it.”
“Sky, it wasn’t because I didn’t have faith in you. I was—”
“It’s okay. Honestly. Like I said, we were young, we hadn’t exactly even figured out what we were and I was leaving the country.” Corin nods so I continue. “I tried to return to my former self. The guy who didn’t get his heart broken because he kept it light. The guy you met for the first time at SoCal.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t attempt this return to your former self alone?”
“There were a few girls. A stewardess I hooked up with on the flight over. Not sex, just fooling around. But still…it felt wrong. I threw myself into playing, into proving myself on the field. Casually hung out with a few of the girls that did promo type stuff for the team but never really got to know anyone. And then I ran into Fallon in a bar. She’d sought me out intentionally because she had a shoot in Rio. We were drunk and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t remember it well.”
Corin is silent so I keep talking even though I know I should probably just shut the hell up.
“I remember telling her about you, about how I felt about you and how it had ended. I was wasted and rambling and honest to God, I think she just felt sorry for me. So it was pity sex basically. The next morning we were both hung over and I left with an awkward hug and her telling me I’d be okay and get over you eventually. There was sympathy in her eyes and I remember thinking I’d hit an all-time low when Fallon was telling me to keep my chin up.”
“And then I flew to Brazil.”
I nod. “Thank fuck. I don’t even want to think about what life would be like if you hadn’t.” I reach out and take her hand in mine. “She called me several times a few months later. Sent weird texts out of the blue about needing to talk about something important. I thought she was just wanting money to pay her dealer, honestly. I didn’t want to get caught up in that and risk hurting you or my career. I never imagined…” I shake my head and stare at the ceiling. “She was pregnant. She needed me. I blocked her, Corin. I fucking blocked her. Meaning I essentially blocked my son and now I have no clue what I’m supposed to do to fix it.”
Corin doesn’t say anything right away. She pulls me down to lie beside her and stares into my eyes. There are tears liquefying the emeralds staring back at me.
“You can’t fix it tonight. None of us can. And you need some rest.”
“But—”
“We can figure it out tomorrow. How to forgive yourself for this and what’s best for Christian.”
Right now I’m just so damn grateful she said “we.” She could walk away from me, from this mess I’m in and I wouldn’t blame her. She has law school to focus on and she deserves a fighting chance without this weighing her down. She didn’t do anything wrong and shouldn’t have to pay for my…I can’t think of my son as a mistake. I won’t. I grew up feeling like I was unwanted and I won’t do that to him.
“I love you, Corin. And I won’t be angry if you decide you don’t want to deal with this. It’s a big ask.”
Corin leans forward to kiss me lightly on the lips. “Kind of like asking a nineteen year old red-blooded American boy to go without sex. Then dumping him and expecting him to remain celibate until you come to your senses.” She kisses me again and I pull her to my chest. “Love you too, Skylar. Big asks and all.”
I don’t sleep that night. Not a wink.
I just hold her in my arms, listening to her steading breathing and hoping like hell I get to keep her.
Getting ready for Fallon’s funeral is a blur, even for me and I barely knew her. I can’t begin to imagine how Skylar is feeling. The viewing was at ten in the morning but it was the only time the Martin’s attorney could meet so we didn’t go.
By the time we arrive at the grand funeral home just outside of Orange County, a paternity test has been ordered and the letter from Fallon has been entered into the system. Skylar’s hand was steady as he signed the request for full custody of his son should the paternity test return the way we expect it to. He did flinch when the attorney explained that he basically had to sue her parents for custody and visitation rights. But he has handled the twists and turns well so far.
I am proud of him.
I am terrified of what this mea
ns. Not just for us, because while I know things will change, I love him and I truly believe he loves me. More so for his career. I haven’t verbalized my concerns because I’m not sure how to say “Hey, having full custody of your three-year-old son might put a damper on the pro-soccer career, Sky. Just sayin’.”
When we reach the front of the line, I’m startled by the jolt I feel in my chest at seeing Fallon’s lifeless body in the pale pink lined casket. She is still strikingly beautiful, even in death. But it’s not that, it’s something else.
I was pregnant and scared and alone once too. I’ve put my past behind me but I haven’t forgotten the strange mix of sheer terror and hopefulness that I felt at learning a human life was growing inside me.
Emotions I’m unprepared for threaten to choke tears out of me. Which is ridiculous. I have no business crying at the funeral of a woman I barely knew.
And yet…I feel a strange kinship with her. No more jealously or anger remains. Just a heartfelt empathy that she couldn’t escape the darkness that held her captive. She lost the battle with her demons and that is truly heartbreaking.
I graze her cool to the touch hand as I pass and something electrifies mine. Words from her letter appear behind my eyes.
Don’t let them ruin him. Please. Fight for him, Skylar. Love him and want him and be good to him. You have a good heart. I know you can be the father he deserves. They aren’t meant to be parents. They don’t know how.
On the way here Skylar told me more about what made Fallon, well, Fallon. She was left to be raised by people who had no business being around children. Abused, neglected, and he suspects molested, in her formative years, while her wealthy parents traveled the country growing their business, oblivious to the horror she was living in. Deborah and Jackson Kensington are the sole remaining owners of Kensington Sails, a decades old manufacturer of sailboats and supplementary equipment for making them capable of racing and sailing long distances.
Skylar said Fallon tried to tell them about the things that had happened, but that they refused to tarnish the Kensington name with any negativity so they brushed her off, sent her to camps, and therapists, and private hospitals.
And now they want a do-over with her son, with Skylar’s son, and I’m guessing will do whatever it takes to keep him from his father.
I think I hate them already.
Fallon’s dad is nowhere to be seen but Deborah Kensington is standing at the end of the line accepting condolences and looking like a forty-something overly-Botoxed Homecoming Queen on top of a parade float. Skylar has already been cautioned by his attorney to keep his distance.
He tugs me in her direction and I know he’s decided not to heed the warning he was given only hours ago.
“Skylar,” I hiss-whisper. “Remember what the lawyer said about not provoking them.”
“I’m not going to provoke anyone,” he says evenly. “I’m just letting them know I’m not going to be steamrolled either.”
“This isn’t the time or place,” I caution him, knowing my words are falling on deaf ears. I glance to Katie and their mom for help but they’ve already been swarmed by other mourners.
“I won’t make a scene. Promise,” he assures me.
Once we reach Deborah, Skylar squares his shoulders beside me. Fallon’s mom looks like she’s been struck in the gut at the sight of him.
“Deborah,” he says evenly. “I’m very sorry for your family’s loss.”
“Thank you, Skylar,” she answers on a shaky breath. “We appreciate that.”
She turns to nod at me and hurry us along but Skylar isn’t finished.
“Who’s watching my son right now? While you’re here?”
The bottom drops out of my stomach and from the looks of it, Deborah’s too. But she’s got more experience in schooling her features than I do and her façade is less penetrable.
“I wasn’t aware you had a son,” she says, still smiling through gritted teeth.
“Like hell you weren’t.” Skylar leans in closer. “I wasn’t aware that I had a son. But I am now. And I don’t want this to get ugly, but make no mistake, Deborah, he is mine and I will fight for him.”
To her credit, Deborah Kensington lifts her chin and holds her head high instead of shrinking under Skylar’s anger and intensity. He’s a good foot taller than her at least.
“If you’re referring to Fallon’s son, which I assume you are, then you should know, you weren’t the only candidate that might have fathered him. Regardless, we have full custody and are fully capable of—”
“Don’t you dare,” Skylar says, stopping before he raises his voice above an acceptable level. “Don’t you dare,” he begins again in a lower octave, “stand next to her fucking casket and paint her as promiscuous just because it suits your current agenda or assuages your guilt. No one is perfect and she never pretended to be. She was damaged, yeah, thanks to your piss poor parenting, which is why I’ll be here every day, every day, Deb, until I know without a doubt that my son is in the best hands possible.”
Fallon’s mother returns his stare with equal tenacity. “He already is.”
“I’ll see you in court,” is how Skylar leaves it before walking away.
Once we’re out of earshot, I release the breath that has been held prisoner in my lungs. “Subtle, Sky. That was super subtle. Way to not make a scene. Your attorney will not be pleased.”
A man waging an internal war stares back at me with a ravaged expression. “They’re not good people, Corin. They can’t raise my son. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t let them have him.”
The words from Fallon’s letter burn brighter behind my eyes.
“I have your back, Skylar. Always. You know that. But from now on, let’s refrain from anything they could paint as harassment or threats, okay?”
He nods. “I’ll try.”
“Try harder.”
After the funeral, Skylar is granted extended family emergency leave from the team. We sit for hours with several attorneys that his dad employs and draft up his request for custody along with a detailed plan of how he’ll raise Christian while on the road most of the year with his job. Mr. Dodd is the head litigator overseeing Skylar’s case, and I feel like he’s here as much as I am.
“This feels strange, making plans for a child I’ve never met,” he tells me at the kitchen table after the lawyers have gone. “I feel like I fell asleep in Vancouver and woke up in someone else’s life.”
I nod. “I can only imagine. But Mr. Dodd said until the paternity test comes back, you don’t technically have any rights, which includes visitation.” I rub his back in small circles. “I know this is difficult, but I can tell you from a legal standpoint, it’s vital that you go about this the right way. No storming their doorstep or confrontations that could turn heated. Just be patient.”
“I’m trying,” Skylar says. “But I’ve missed so much time already. And how can I expect him to come live with me when he doesn’t even know me?”
I squeeze his knee gently. “I don’t know yet. But I know you and I know you’ll figure it out.”
Even the attorneys looked nervous about the fact that Skylar lives out of the country and travels so much for work. It’s not exactly an ideal situation.
Mrs. Martin, who has insisted I call her Kathryn since I’m practically living in their house, has agreed to go on the road for most of the season as Skylar’s nanny. Katie is going to pick up the slack and use her vacation time until Skylar can hire someone he trusts.
Even though Christian is only three, Skylar has to have a contingency plan in place for schooling and medical care and all kinds of things that I’m pretty positive have never even crossed his mind before now.
“There are guys on the team with kids,” I remind him. “I’ve seen them making it work. Maybe reach out to your teammates and see how they handle these situations.”
“Those guys have kids and wives, though. And usually if the kids are traveling with us, the
re are moms and nannies and tutors as well.” Skylar looks dejected. “I’m a single guy as far as the court is concerned. A single guy with a career that isn’t conducive to child-rearing.” He’s been reading up on the cases similar to his and many don’t go his way.
Part of me wants to say let’s get married tomorrow and I’ll go on the road with you and help raise your son. A big part. But I know myself, and I know my dreams are important too. I wouldn’t ask Skylar to give up soccer for me and I know he wouldn’t let me give up law school for him.
I scribble a few words on my legal pad. “Let’s make a note to check with the team about how they can help. If they provide childcare, or any type of assistance. We probably need to contact your PR person anyway so they can spin this positively before we go to court.”
Skylar’s shoulder slump. “Is there a positive way to spin this? Because I can’t see one. ‘Pro soccer player has illegitimate child he didn’t know about with deceased model. Fights evil grandparents for custody.’”
“Like I’ve said before, it’s not the fairytale, Sky. You know that. But it’s not impossible either.”
He places his head in his hands before looking over at me. “It’s not fair to you. This situation is entirely my fault. And yet here you are night after night having to deal with it when you could be—”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” I tell him honestly. “Besides, I always thought fairytales were kind of boring anyways.” I nudge his shoulder with mine and realize it’s the first physical contact we’ve had in days.
No wonder we’re both on edge. Time to rectify this.
It’s late.
I need him. He needs me. We both need more than to just sit around and stress out day after day.
“It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.” I take Skylar’s hand and lead him up the stairs. Once we reach the bedroom, I shed the frustration and stress and worry along with each layer of my clothing until I am naked before him.
