by Caisey Quinn
I hadn’t realized how much guilt Skylar was carrying around. “Stop,” I say, before he verbally pulverizes himself any further. “Don’t underestimate me, Skylar Martin. I am human, too, and we all make questionable choices and, okay, mistakes. So while that night with Fallon might not have been the best decision you ever made, and yeah, it doesn’t feel good to sit and think about, it says a lot that you are manning up and taking responsibility for the outcome.” I lean forward and place my forehead on his. “Look at it this way, maybe we were meant to take that short break, to hurt for a bit so we could decide if what we had was worth fighting for. Maybe we were meant to be weak, both of us, for a period in time so that Christian could exist in the world. Maybe he’ll cure cancer. Or maybe he’ll just be a really amazing kid that you get to call your son.”
Skylar gives me a wry grin. “Or maybe he’ll be a giant pain in the ass like I was and my parents will think I got what I deserved.”
I smile. “Maybe. But he’s going to be loved either way. He’s three years old and people are already going to war over who gets to raise him. Some kids don’t have that. So I’d say he’s off to a good start.”
The first time I meet my son, I’m speechless.
And everything Landen said makes sense. And nothing makes sense. And this child is perfect and I am not worthy.
Deborah Kensington doesn’t take her eyes off Corin or me from the moment we enter her home. Christian sits on a blanket in the middle of the room surrounded by bright colorful toys of all shapes and sizes.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, squatting down to his level. “What you got there?”
He smiles at me and resumes playing with a puzzle made of wooden pieces shaped like trains. I help place one of the pieces and he hands me another.
No questions. No ‘who the hell is this guy touching my puzzle like he owns the place?’ Just acceptance.
Once he’s finished his puzzle, I hand over a stuffed giraffe and ask if he’d like to go to the zoo and see a real one. He looks at Deb, who nods, before he grins at me and says, “raffe.”
He’s older than the picture I have, slightly less baby fat and more like a miniature version of me. The shape of his nose and face are more like Fallon’s and his skin tone is closer to hers. But the hair, the eyes, and the shit-eating grin are all me.
My son. I can’t even.
“His diaper bag is packed. We’re working on potty training but we aren’t quite there yet,” she tells us. “Do you have a car seat or do you need to borrow one of ours?”
“I have one,” I tell her. “We picked it up yesterday. Corin researched, it’s got the highest safety rating—”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she bites out.
I stand, ready to deal with the hostility in her tone before it becomes upsetting for Christian, but Corin steps between us.
“I never got to say how sorry I was about your loss,” Corin tells Deborah. “I only met Fallon once but she was beautiful. And I imagine this feels a bit like losing her all over again. I hope you know we’re not trying to hurt anyone, least of all Christian. But Skylar deserves to know his son and Christian deserves to know his father. Don’t you agree?”
I clench my jaw in preparation for a hateful answer but Deborah’s shoulders sag as if she’s just too exhausted to argue.
“I do,” she relents. “My husband never wanted kids and isn’t exactly thrilled about raising another one.”
You didn’t raise the first one, I want to say. You abandoned her. But I bite my tongue because Fallon’s fight is finished and rehashing it now won’t help anyone.
“So then why are you fighting me, Deb? If Jack doesn’t even want full custody, why are we about to go through a major trial?”
Tears spring to Deborah’s eyes. “I lost my baby, Skylar. And not just when she died, but when she was younger and I couldn’t reach her. She shut me out and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought it was teen angst or a phase she’d outgrow.”
There is a small measure of sympathy swelling in my chest, but not much. Very small, because I know Fallon did try to tell her parents what had happened to her as a kid, what she could remember of it. But they didn’t want to hear it. So she shut them out. She shut everyone out for the most part.
“I understand that it hurts,” I tell her. “But as a parent who lost their child, how can you try to deprive me of mine? Three years, Deb. For three years I’ve missed everything. I can’t get that time back. How do you think that feels?”
“I wasn’t trying to deprive you of anything,” she answers while drying her tears. “Not intentionally. Fallon said you wouldn’t want him. She said you’d be mad and you might not even remember being with her that night. She was strung out or in rehab most of the time, Skylar. The doctor’s didn’t know if he’d develop correctly or have issues. You were just starting a professional soccer career. I know you’re angry, but at the time, it felt right. It felt like my second chance to do right by my daughter.”
I glance over at my son who looks perfectly healthy. “Are there? Any developmental issues I should know about?”
Deb shakes her head. “Not that we can tell. Possibly a slight speech delay but the doctors say that’s common among kids and nothing to worry about.”
I actually had that too. But once I started talking, my sister said I never shut up.
“Any food or other allergies we should know about?” Corin inquires from beside me.
“Not that we know of,” Deb answers, looking mildly impressed that Corin thought to ask. “He won’t eat eggs or anything green, but again, the doctors say that could just be a normal childhood aversion.”
It feels like a window is open, one in which I can get through to Deb without judges or lawyers in the way so I plead my case.
“I know my career is demanding and requires a great deal of international travel, but I’ve spoken with my coaches and coordinators and the league has some of the best tutors and teachers available. I’ll have a personal assistant as well as my mom or my sister with me year-round,” I tell her. “Christian will have every advantage I can give him and I’ll buy a house here in California for the off-season. I have a condo with plenty of room for him in Vancouver. I don’t want to cut you out, Deb. I swear I don’t. But you’re his grandma not his mom. He’s my son and I’m the one who should be raising him. If I get overwhelmed or something comes up, it’d be nice to know I could call you. That we could be on friendly terms and that every mistake I make won’t be held against me in a court of law.”
It’s too much too soon and I can see it on her face.
“I’m sorry to drop all of that on you at my first visitation,” I say quickly. “I just want you to think about it, okay? I’m not the irresponsible kid you knew years ago. I’m a man and I’m trying to be the best one that I can.”
She nods. “I know. I appreciate that. Let’s just see how visitation goes for a while, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you for letting me take him today. We’re going to the zoo downtown and then to dinner at my parents’ house. I’ll have him back by eight, as agreed upon. You have both of our cell numbers.”
“Enjoy your visit,” Deb says on our way out.
I can hear how much effort it takes her to say that. So I meet her eyes and smile and say, “Thank you.”
My son loves elephants. His eyes nearly double in size when he sees them. We use our arms to mimic trunks and I am officially the most hilarious man on the planet.
He also loves trains. There is a small train you can ride through the zoo and we ride it a dozen times before we leave.
Corin brought her fancy camera and takes several pictures of us, some posed and some candid I catch her taking when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Around five in the evening, Christian yawns in his stroller and says “hungry.”
Corin retrieves a bag of dry cereal from her purse and offers it to him. He polishes it off and eats the fruit snacks she offers as well. I didn’t r
ealize she was a walking vending machine. We buy him an apple juice in a souvenir elephant cup and make our way toward the exit.
“How did you know to bring snacks?”
Corin shrugs. “I take eight hours of back to back classes most days. I always have snacks in my purse. Figured this might be a long day for him so I grabbed what I had.”
“Thanks,” I tell her. “For coming today and for thinking of snacks. And for…”
She raises an inquisitive eyebrow while she waits for me to find the words.
“For being you. For not bailing on me when you would’ve been completely justified in pounding sand.”
She nudges me gently. “Well…you’re really hot and pretty decent in the sack. And I’ve already invested all this times in you and it’d take forever to train someone else so…”
I chuckle low beside her. “Just decent, huh? I’ll have to see what I can do to up my rating later.”
Corin blushes and shakes her head. I never would’ve called her maternal before, or thought a woman bending over strapping a kid into a car seat was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen, yet I’m practically drooling on her when she does it.
“I thought I would be bad at this,” I admit as Corin and I sit with Christian, who’s happily eating cut up fruit, pasta salad, and grilled chicken strips at my parents’ house.
She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Why would you think that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t that big on kids before, I guess. I mean, I’ve coached them at soccer clinics and stuff but…”
“It’s different when it’s your kid,” she tells me.
That it is. Much different than I ever could’ve imagined. A part of me is more relaxed than I’ve ever been, just enjoying this time watching my family interact with my son. But another part of me is on high alert, as if danger is lurking around every corner.
The zoo was a strange brand of tortuous fun. Wild animals, gorilla pits, child abductors. Apparently fatherhood is feeling like you might have to take a bullet any second to protect your child and you would, happily, if it meant preventing any harm to a single hair on their head.
Corin chats easily with Christian, discussing the animals we’ve seen and the noises they make and a circus parade she saw once. My family completely realigns during and after dinner, with Christian being the new center of the universe. He’s like the sun, or gravity. Every move he makes, someone claps or laughs or comments. Even my dad seems to get a kick out of making him smile. Watching him here, I know for certain for the first time, that he belongs with me.
I feel a sense of relief at how smoothly our first visit went. And I don’t want to take my son back to the Kensingtons.
“He likes being the center of attention,” I comment to Corin as my son eats up the affections of every adult in the room.
“Hmm…wonder where he gets that from?” She winks at me, but it’s true. I like attention. Sue me.
“Guess I better get used to being second fiddle, because there’s a much better looking sheriff in town, huh?”
Corin nods. “Looks like. Don’t worry, I still love you.”
I kiss her on the cheek. “Thank goodness for that.”
On the drive back to my parents’ after we’ve dropped Christian off, Corin touches my arm before I hit the interstate.
“Could we stay at my place tonight?”
I nod. “Of course. You okay?”
She smiles and the soft glow of interior lights gleams against her bright white teeth. “Better than.”
There is nothing hotter than a man with a baby and a diaper bag.
Except watching him put that child to bed. And hearing him say the sweetest goodnight you’ve ever heard over the baby monitor.
Even Deb looked surprised. But I was downright floored.
And turned on as hell.
Skylar has always been confident—probably a little more so than most. But he was nervous about his first visit with his son and it was sweet that he cared so much about being a good dad. Once he got the hang of it, though, watching him get Christian out of the car with ease, carrying the sleeping boy like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was an ovary-exploding sight to behold.
Then while I was returning the diaper bag to Deborah, I heard it. His voice coming through the speaker next to where she stood.
“Night night, big guy. Thanks for hanging out today. Daddy loves you and I’ll be back soon. I promise. Sweet dreams, Christian.”
The cadence of his voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard. Soft and strong. Protective. Raw.
And it’s official.
Skylar Martin is the hottest dad ever.
Something deep in the core of what makes me, well, me, begins to pulse and throb uncontrollably—as if my heart is pumping a drug throughout my system instead of blood.
The car ride is sheer torture and I barely make it inside my front door before jumping Skylar like a complete lunatic—a lunatic in heat. He seems to anticipate my move and practically catches me in mid-air.
His hands grip my waist tightly, and I moan into his mouth.
“I always thought you were hot. Not going to lie. And the closer we got, the more I wanted you. But tonight…you…with Christian…the way you—”
His tongue cuts me off when it slides into my mouth. My knees go weak so he has to literally hold me up.
“I need you. Inside me. Soon,” I tell him. Or maybe I’m begging. I don’t know. I just need him to soothe this ache. Immediately.
Skylar slides his fingers between my thighs, beneath my dress and inside my panties. “Fuck, baby. You’re already wet for me.”
I whimper as he thrusts a finger into my throbbing slit.
“Thank you for wearing a dress tonight. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
I grind against his hand, trying to get him to that place deep inside but it’s not enough. I growl my frustration and he chuckles low against my neck.
“Want me to fuck you right here against this wall, sweetheart? Or can you make it to the bedroom.”
The bedroom might as well be in a different time zone.
“Wall,” I pant. “Right here. Now. Please.”
He complies, unbuttoning his jeans quickly and lifting me, impaling me on his steely length. He’s inside me without a condom but I can’t find the words to remind him to pull out when we finish.
I wrap my legs around him in a vice grip as he sets the pace for our bodies. This isn’t the way we usually make love. It’s different, but a good different. This is about gratification and pure, animalistic need. With every thrust, he short circuits my brain, making it impossible to think any logical thoughts.
I hear myself, praising him and pleading for more. Normally I’m less vocal, but tonight, I need everything he can give and I need him to know.
I’m mid-release when he jerks hard inside of me. His mouth covers mine, drinking in my every breath, swallowing my moans of pleasure. My orgasm has a life of its own and it overtakes my entire body. I feel him trying to pull out but I clamp down and hold him inside. I need this, need to feel him filling me.
Once I’ve ridden out the wave of ecstasy, I’m drained—weak and unable to anything but slump against his chest.
Skylar lifts me and carries me in his arms to the bedroom.
“I should’ve pulled out,” he says from above my head.
“We both get tested regularly and I take my pill, Sky. Always. Religiously.”
I feel his throat move as he swallows. “I know. It’s just…with everything…I should be more careful. I want to always be careful with you.”
I reach for him when he lays me on the mattress. “I’m not made of glass, you know. Sometimes I like less than careful.”
He leans down and kisses me on the mouth before telling me he’s going to clean us up before he comes to bed.
I drift weightlessly in and out of consciousness, barely aware of the warm washrag that he uses to soothe the s
ensitive skin between my legs, until his warm body is lying beside me. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “Today was perfect. You are perfect. In a hundred lifetimes I could never do enough good to deserve you.”
“I love you, too, Skylar,” I whisper against his neck. His arms tighten around me. “Always.”
It takes almost six weeks before we get a court date. Then the Kensington’s lawyer requests a two-week continuance because he has a scheduling conflict.
I returned to the team weeks ago, but my head and heart haven’t been on the field with me. They’re in California with a little boy who has my eyes.
Every weekend that we don’t have a game, I fly home and spend every waking second I can with Christian. Sometimes Corin is able to get away from her internship and she comes with us and sometimes it’s just me and little man.
Even Deb and Jack seem to be surprised that I keep coming back. Part of me wonders if the continuance their attorney requested is bullshit and they’re hoping I’ll lose interest and go away.
I won’t. They can request continuances until their blue in the face—I will not give up on my son. I always give them notice, always arrive on time for pick up and drop off, and I have made sure to keep them informed about what he eats, drinks, and when he sleeps when he’s with me. When he had a fever, I called to let them know that I had contacted his pediatrician and given him the correct dosage of Tylenol. When he got sick after riding the carousel at the fair, I described the color and contents of his vomit.
I don’t know what else they want from me, but whatever it is, I will gladly give it. I have made damn sure there isn’t a single thing they can say against me in court.
I do have a question to ask Deb, though, and I’m not sure how it’s going to go over. It’s two weeks until our court date and the last thing I want to do is piss her off or give her anything to use against me. But I have to try.
After taking Christian to play Putt-Putt and eat froyo on Sunday afternoon, I put him to bed and linger in the Kensington’s living room.
