I draw back at that and close my mouth when I realize it’s unhinged.
“Her last wish was for me to bring Lily to you,” Carter repeats, and with that flash in her eyes, I can tell she’s gearing up for something. It forces me to smother my surprise. I can’t, for one second, look weak in front of this chick.
“And it’s not like it’ll be easy for you to get her,” Carter continues. “You’ll have to go through official documents, home visits, social workers going in and out of your apartment until it’s found suitable for a toddler. Even after, CPS will visit you, make sure Lily’s in safe hands, now that her mother’s dead and didn’t give you any rights on official paper.”
“Okay, so what?” I’m dismissive, but it’s only to cover the waffling going on inside. The—what is that? Shit, right. Fear. Fear of measuring up. “You don’t think I can accomplish any of that?”
“I don’t think you have the balls, no.”
After a cool swallow, I peel my lips back while I slam my empty bottle down. “Then get ready, because Challenge is my middle name.”
She stares pointedly at my two empty beer bottles. “You’ll have to stop drinking.”
“Easy.”
“You can no longer bring random chicks into your apartment.”
“Can do.”
“And clean. That place you’re living in is—”
“All right. I get the point.”
“And a crib. And baby things. Diapers, bottles, changing station—”
“Fine. I can do it. She’s my kid, I’ll figure it out.”
I refuse to give her any more ammo by asking her what a fucking changing station is.
Carter won’t break her hold on me. “This isn’t a game, Locke. Not something you can win.”
I break our staring contest and utter, “You have no faith.”
She barks out a humorless laugh. “I lost my faith a long time ago.”
Carter stands. “And I’ll wait for your text telling me you’ve changed your mind and can’t handle it.”
After that parting shot, she makes her way out of the booth.
“Hey! We’re not finished yet, Carter,” I say.
The waiter has picked this time to place my meal on the table, but I still have room to get out if I elbow him out of the way. I ignore his grunt of surprise and sprint after Carter.
She’s near the entrance, and I have to dodge more than a few squealing families and rainbow cocktail gallons, but I catch her by the arm. She looks back with a glare containing lava, but I don’t back down. I lean in so close I can feel her hot breath on my jaw.
“Consider this your first mistake,” I say, and only she can hear. “Underestimating me.”
I let go and don’t leave her room to reply. Storming back to my table, I run into a helium balloon of the mascot and end up tangled in its string. All the pent-up emotion, the frustration, the fucking uselessness I’ve felt all day, culminates into this one mocking, floating cartoon prawn closing in on me.
I get an arm loose and punch it in the face.
Below me, someone starts screaming. Then crying, then hiccupping. Awesome. I’ve deflated a child’s balloon.
“Yeah, great father material,” I hear Carter say behind me, and I don’t turn around and give her any satisfaction, because now I want to punch the fucking wall.
7
Carter
ONE MONTH LATER
“Ba-ba.”
“What’s that, sweetie?” I bend down, so Lily’s cupid bow lips are closer to my ear.
“Ba-ba!”
Yikes. That went from a polite request to a screech in one-point-two seconds.
I loop an arm around her as much as I can while I reach to the floor, pulling out the diaper bag I’d stuffed underneath the seat in front of me.
“Let me help.”
The lady in the plane’s seat next to me, Eden Munch, uncrosses her legs and pulls the bottle out of the side of the striped bag.
“Thank you,” I say, still unsure how I’m supposed to interact with the social worker. I’d rather spend this time alone with Lily, holding her forever on my lap, cherishing each squirm, and yes, adoring each scream. I only have two and a half more hours with her.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker drawls. “This is your pilot speaking. We’ll be starting our descent in about ten minutes, and I’ll be putting the seat belt sign on to encourage you to stay in your seats. We can expect to land in about thirty-five minutes.”
Correction. Make that a little more than half an hour with her.
Lily whines and I realize I’ve tightened my grip on her. It physically hurts as I release and give her the bottle, to which she grabs as if she’s been stranded on a desert, and begins chugging.
Eden seems to sense my unease because she pats my elbow. “It’ll be okay, honey.”
“Oh, I’m not a nervous flyer.”
“I know,” she says, and her warm brown eyes trained on mine. She doesn’t have to say anything more. The lump in my throat won’t dislodge from sympathy, empathy, or anything resembling kindness. Not if, at the end of it all, I still have to give up my heart, beating in a small, warm body nestled on my lap.
“I want to thank you,” I say to her instead. “For letting me come along.”
“It’s important to maintain the familiar with Lily. Having you here will make the transition easier, especially when transferring custody to another state.”
I nod like I’m only here for official reasons and not to scream once Lily’s ripped from my hold.
Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on Lily’s head, full of ringlets now, but just as warm as I remember. It fits perfectly, and I breathe in her scent, enjoying smelling like baby powder again.
Eden doesn’t make any further conversation—she hasn’t said much since meeting me at the Jacksonville airport with Lily in tow. I’d fallen to my knees upon seeing Lily, arms open, completely and utterly bemused by the fact she was on her own two feet.
Her still toothless grin spread wide upon spotting me, and while very, very unsteady, she toddled over into my arms, and my tears soaked her neck. When her little arms looped around mine, I nearly fell prone on the terminal floor, taking her with me and cuddling close.
Our reunion was short-lived and the plane ride much too quick, because we’re now descending into JFK, where Locke somehow did enough to convince these people that Lily could be his.
“You’ll always be mine,” I whisper closely in her ear. Her baby hairs tickle my mouth. “I’ll forever be yours.”
Lily continues sucking on her bottle, her attention riveted by the reading light above us. I swallow and wrap myself around her as much as I can, dreading the moment when I have to stand.
Too soon, the plane hits the tarmac, and we rumble to the gate. Too quickly, Eden rises, taking the diaper bag with her and gesturing for me to come along. Too surprisingly, the people in front of us exit the plane fast and efficiently.
“That’s not supposed to happen,” I say to Lily as I rise out of the window seat and step into the aisle. “People are supposed to take forever to get their baggage and leave the plane.”
The pilot and flight attendant say good-bye to me with professional cheer once I turn left into the gate, and I can’t muster a smile in return. Lily’s tight against my chest, and while she mutters at the grip, she doesn’t seem overly angry about it, so I keep her there, close, safe, near.
Every step carries weight, every space between clogged with uncertainty.
Am I doing the right thing? Just because Paige wanted it, should I have found Locke myself, confronted him, somehow convinced him to take Lily? Was she better off with a happy, full family and not her single father? Was she going to be okay in this city, a place she’s never known, a home with no grass, only a concrete jungle to play in?
Oh, God. My steps halt.
“Carter?” Eden asks in front of me.
Other flyers are having to traverse around me, maki
ng their annoyance clear, but I can’t move.
Eden, sensing and likely well-used to this kind of hesitation, hurries to my side. “It’s okay. Lily will be safe here.”
“You can’t know that,” I say with terror.
“I can, and I do,” she assures. “She deserves to be with her family. Don’t you agree?”
“I’m her family.”
I can’t fight it anymore. I break.
“And you’re doing what’s best for her. Come,” Eden says softly, ushering me along. “Come.”
Lily whimpers in my neck, and for a thousand reasons, that sound breaks my heart.
But I follow Eden because there is nowhere else to go. What can I do? Run back onto the plane and hide under the seats? Get trampled by TSA security? Have Lily torn from me that way?
“I have his number,” I say to myself as we trod along. “I can call him any time.”
Whether or not Locke likes it.
We pass the security checkpoint and enter into the public domain, where families with signs await, some with balloons, most hopping up and down on impatient feet, awaiting their loved one.
I find Locke immediately, as he’s the only one on his own, hands in his jeans, hair askew, his lips flat-lined as he searches the crowd.
Too heartbreakingly fast, he lands on me.
And breaks into a grin.
“Hey!” he says when I approach, half my face still buried against Lily. Then, softer, kinder, he looks down at Lily and says, “Hey, there.”
I halt in front of him, aware of Eden, but my attention is solely on the man in front of me, and when he’ll decide to take Lily out of my arms.
He looks up at me with Lily’s blue eyes and asks, “Can I…?”
I tense, but he only puts his wide palm on Lily’s back and rubs. “Hi, honey.”
He’s speaking in a voice I’ve never heard, so awed and tentative.
“Wanna look my way?” he asks her.
At some point on our walk, Lily crammed her thumb in her mouth, but I can picture her peeking out at him suspiciously, the rest of her fist curled against her chin.
“Hey. Hi,” he says, bending closer. I can count the pieces of scruff on his cheek. He lifts his hand from her back into a wave. “I’m…” His voice catches, and it makes me peer at him closer. “I’m Dad.”
The sight is so endearing that I loosen my hold. Just a fraction.
“Well, how about we have lunch somewhere?” Eden asks, and it’s as if she’s burst a bubble.
“Sure, ma’am.” Locke straightens, but it’s tough for him to tear his attention away from Lily. “I rented a car, but I bought a car seat. It’s installed. Ready.”
My brows quirk. I could never picture Locke nervous, but at this moment it looks like he’s about to eat a lemon.
“Show us the way then, dear,” Eden says, then lays her palm on my back, a subtle clue to keep going through the motions. That I could have Lily for now, but eventually, I won’t.
Everyone’s quiet as we walk to short-term parking, even Lily. Air travel has made her drowsy, and a full bottle on top of it has virtually guaranteed a nap. Once we get in the car, I know she’s going to conk out. This is disappointing because it means the three of us will have to make small talk.
Turns out, my nervousness goes unheeded, because nobody wants to talk once I’ve secured Lily in her car seat and take the spot beside her. Eden sits in the front passenger seat, and Locke starts the car without a peep. He does, however, continuously look back in the rearview, glancing at his kid.
His kid.
I draw in a breath and stare out the window, but my hand won’t leave Lily’s chest.
Locke chooses a restaurant nearby his place. He parallel parks with surprising ease, and the three of us step out into a sunny, cool day. I hear kids laughing somewhere, that musical peal that all crowds of children can maintain.
“There’s a playground nearby,” Locke says as he meets me on Lily’s side of the car. “I checked.”
“Ah.” It’s all I can think to say because I don’t expect him to read me or my concerns that well.
“Do you mind if I get her out?”
I clench at the thought but don’t need Eden’s grounding stare to spit out the right answer. “Sure. Go ahead.”
It kills every fiber in me to step aside.
Locke opens the door and bends down, his shirt riding up and his jeans sliding down, showing off a peek of Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
I don’t know why, but it seems so juvenile to me, so out of place for a father to be reaching for his child.
Stop. Lily’s his. It’s been proven. Suck it up, already.
I hear Lily’s whimpering while Locke gently prods her, soon to become wails because she hates being woken up.
And yes, right there, when he unbuckles her harness and reaches for her, are the screams I expect.
It takes every rationale I possess not to shove him aside and reach for her, but I notice his wide eyes, his hand's frozen mid embrace as he debates what to do with a child who, such a sleeping angel a minute ago, is turning into a fast-second nightmare.
“She likes it when you sing,” I say over wails that hurt my soul.
“Sing?” he echoes, still bent over the car seat like some ghoul.
“Nursery rhymes, Twinkle Twinkle, something like that. Do you know any?”
He’s got that stunned look like he’s frantically trying to recall his childhood, and before I can intervene, because fuck this, he starts belting out Mary Had a Little Lamb.
In an instant, Lily, the traitor, trails off into happy babbles, the tears not even dry on her cheeks. She reaches her chubby arms for him as he continues to sing, making up words at this point because he only knows the chorus, bumbling as he rests her on his hips, then bursting at the seams when he tickles her tummy and makes her laugh.
“They have a table for us,” Eden says as her heels clip-clop over. I didn’t even register that she’d gone into the restaurant and found us seats.
“Great,” Locke replies, but he doesn’t tear his eyes off Lily.
“Let’s go!” he says with extra cheer. He puts some air into his steps as he makes his way to the restaurant’s stoop and Lily screeches with mirth.
Grumbling, sinking into despair, I follow with way less bounce.
8
Locke
Well, that car ride sucked.
What should’ve been the beginning to a new life chapter, a drive off into the sunset with a daughter I’ve been gifted, turned into a miserable, silent, chamber of doom, the entire way back to the ‘burg.
And I can’t even be mad about it. After not seeing hide nor hair of Carter Jameson for a month, it was easy to reduce her to paper. A mere blockade as I went through the motions of finding a lawyer, gaining parental rights, and being proven the father of Lily James Tobias.
Of becoming her dad. Officially.
I pretty much forgot about Carter, my vision tunneling only to this little girl, a kid that—the more I thought of and further steps I took to have her—felt right and true.
She’s meant for me, this tiny thing sleeping in the back seat of the car, her lashes so dark compared to her hair, and wow, that hair. Curls everywhere. Like Einstein, except girlier. Have to figure out a brush for that.
And yet, despite all the happiness and excitement, it’s impossible to ignore the black cloud hovering beside my daughter. As we drove, it was easy to dismiss Carter as a sore loser, someone who couldn’t game the court system even though she wanted to. Too bad for her. But I caught her expression in my rearview more than a few times.
The girl was devastated. No, she was broken in two.
And there wasn’t much I could do about it except give her the time to come to terms with the moment she was going to have to say good-bye.
After picking them up from the airport, it was arranged with the social worker on my end for us all to go to lunch. An easier, less traumatizing way to hand Lily off. Miss Mu
nch and Carter would unobtrusively leave the table without Lily noticing too much, and then I was to begin my life with her.
Holy shit. I’m gonna be left with a baby.
Deep breaths, man. That’s the mantra I assume when I step out of the car and get Lily out of her brand-new car seat. It’s a phrase that’s worked well for me over the years—on the field, and when committing to the decision to take full custody of Lily.
Yeah, I was up on the legal terms now, as much as Carter wishes I wasn’t.
Here we are, pretending to eat at a breakfast spot I’d scoped out thoroughly, ensuring it was suitable for Lily. Cursing and cussing are to a minimum, and it’s as clean and sanitary as a Brooklyn restaurant can be.
My improvised health inspection was all much to Ben’s chagrin yesterday morning as he tried to eat his pancakes while I inspected his fork for water stains.
But hey, can’t be too careful with an innocent baby.
“How was the flight?” I attempt to ask and crunch down on a piece of bacon.
“Uneventful,” Eden responds politely.
Fuck, it’s like talking about the weather. You know a conversation is going south when clouds or travel comfort is involved.
Carter doesn’t bother with a response. She’s too busy staring at Lily, whose arms and legs are everywhere as a wooden high chair somehow contains her.
“Don’t like your coffee?” I ask Carter. The chick has to acknowledge me at some point.
Slowly, as if strings are attached to her eyeballs, and a puppeteer is forcing her to look, she focuses on me. “It’s fine.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Eden says as she stands. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room. Haven’t since the plane.”
Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection) Page 5
