by J. M. Dabney
“And that has something to do with me, our time together?” Win paused searching a polite way to explain Kendall and his time together.
Mrs. Grover didn’t seem to be hindered by politeness. “Nothing more than a one-night stand I am aware of that as well. Did you use protection that weekend?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your—” He clenched his back teeth as she interrupted him.
“Answer!” She barked the order, and it put him on edge.
“We had a mishap after too much alcohol.”
“Well, your mishap is named Isabella, and she’s four.”
“What?” He croaked as his knees went weak and his legs gave out. Luckily, he was standing near the couch.
“In her Will, Kendall left her to you. You were granted her legal guardian by Kendall, so you’re going to be a full-time father. I’ve made arrangements for a paternity test, and we’ve brought paperwork to acknowledge your paternity to be filed with the state.”
He didn’t understand why the social worker was just standing there silently, but Grover didn’t seem to need her other than taking care of the legalities.
“What about someone else?” Win asked and suddenly felt guilty for asking.
“No one else wants her, Mr. Sanchez. Unfortunately, as I’m too old to chase after an active toddler, the rest of the family are a little more biased against her skin tone.”
“Are you telling me they don’t want her because her father isn’t white?”
“Exactly, I would take her myself, but as I’ve said, she is too active for me. She’s in the car with my assistant, should I have her come in or we can make arrangements for her to be forfeited to the state.”
“No!” He surged to his feet. He was in shock that was a definite, but he didn’t have a family. Win’s turned their backs on him the moment he’d went to prison, a son convicted of manslaughter was too much to forgive. What was he going to do with a kid? His apartment wasn’t kid-friendly. “I’ll take her.”
“I’ll need to inspect your apartment, Mr. Sanchez. I know that this is sudden, and I’m understanding of the fact you’re not prepared. Mrs. Grover”—the tone of Mrs. Sanders’ voice hinted that she wasn’t a fan of the elderly woman—“has somehow arranged for you to take custody until we can run the tests, and we’ll arrange for a series of wellness visits.”
His head kept spinning as Mrs. Sanders kept droning on about the procedures, swabbed the inside of his cheek for DNA, and when she asked if she could check the apartment, he just nodded. Then he was left alone with Grover.
“Should I bring her in?” she asked.
He couldn’t form words, so he nodded. Nausea rolled in his stomach as his nerves took over.
Grover walked to the door, opened it and waved to someone. He tried to keep his breathing deep and even because it wouldn’t do his pride any good to pass out. After what seemed like forever, the door opened wider, and the first thing he noticed was a curtain of sleek black hair falling almost to her knees. Her head was lowered, yet she watched him shyly.
“Mr. Sanchez, meet Isabella, your daughter.”
For some reason he dropped to his knees to put them almost on eye level—she was so damn tiny and delicate.
“Hi.” His voice was gruff when he greeted her, and her own hello was barely above a whisper. He’d barely heard her.
“She spent very little, if any time with Kendall. She’s been raised by nannies her whole life. Isabella does well with strangers watching her.”
The news pissed him off, the old anger radiating outward and burning beneath his skin. He tamped it down and forced a smile.
“In the next few days, we’re cleaning out Kendall’s house, whatever belongs to Isabella, pictures and such, will also be delivered here. I’m sure you could use the furniture. There’s also a trust fund set up for her care and college. You’ll receive a monthly stipend, and when Isabella reaches twenty-one, the fund in its entirety will come to her. Everything is explained in this, and I’ll need your signature.” Grover thrust an envelope towards him, and his hands shook as he removed the papers.
He had no idea what he was signing, but he scanned it quickly and rested it on his thigh to scrawl his signature. As he finished, he looked at Isabella who stood there impassively, and he wondered, wasn’t she supposed to be talking a mile a minute or running around? Her calmness set him on edge.
“We’ve left her car seat and suitcase outside the door with a few other odds and ends.” There was an odd, stiff goodbye to Isabella and then she left him alone with the little girl.
Mrs. Sanders left a card for him and made a list of what he needed to do to make his apartment appropriate for a kid. Shit, he screamed in his head as he looked over the items. Once Mrs. Sanders left with a date of his first inspection and highlighted the minimum of what needed to be done before they returned, he brought his attention back to Isabella.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“I’m hungry,” she whispered, and he panicked.
Shit, he didn’t have kid stuff. He needed Troy.
“Come on; we’re going for a ride.”
“Okay.” She held out her hand, and he took it. She really was too tiny. Win was going to break her.
Twenty minutes later, after a silent ride—kids weren’t supposed to be that quiet, or he didn’t think they were. What do I know about kids? He banged on the door, and it flew open. Troy’s eyes widened, then a smile spread across the beautiful face.
“Oh my god, she’s adorable, give her.” Troy plucked Isabella from his arms and quickly strode into the house. “Look, can we keep her, you’re always talking about grandkids?” The excitement in Troy’s voice eased some of his tension.
Win stepped inside and closed the door. Troy breezed out of the living room and down the hall towards the kitchen. “Win, don’t puke. Go talk to Dad. I’ve got her.” The quiet child no longer sounded quiet, she was talking a million miles an hour, and Troy wasn’t far behind.
“Her name’s Isa—”
Troy spoke up as the slim man strode to the kitchen. “Bella and I have already introduced ourselves.”
The kid didn’t say a word to him, and Troy was her new best friend. Just great, even his own kid didn’t like him.
“Got something to tell me, son?” Brent’s concerned voice pulled him from his self-pity.
“One weekend, alcohol-induced forgotten condom, and a woman with a death wish leaving me a kid I never knew about.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re getting her back from Troy.” Brent darted a loving glance down the hall as Troy sang some nursery rhyme and looked to be making sandwiches.
“She doesn’t like me,” he admitted.
“That little girl doesn’t know you.”
“She likes Troy.”
“Everyone likes Troy, especially kids. He’s a teacher, remember, he knows how to handle them. It’ll take time, Win, she doesn’t know what’s going on, and she’s lost her mother.”
“Kendall didn’t spend any time with her, or that’s what Kendall’s godmother said. She’s been raised by nannies and such.”
“What about the rest of the family?”
“Kendall’s family are some high-brow asses. Apparently, they didn’t want her because her father wasn’t white or white enough.”
“That little girl’s family wants her. We became your family a long time ago, and she’s just as welcome as you were and are. Come on, let’s go have some dinner and welcome our newest edition.”
The open acceptance unknotted the terror that had gripped his stomach since Grover dropped Isabella off. The relief was so sudden that he went dizzy and felt a bit stupid that he’d worried about receiving help and understanding from Brent and Troy. Brent hadn’t judged him at any time in the years they’d known each other.
Win followed Brent into the kitchen, and his breath stuttered in his lungs at the joy on Troy’s face. His silver-gray eyes were shining and huge blue eyes, identical to
Win’s, were just as bright. Isabella smiled around bites of her sandwich and Win couldn’t help studying her. Her skin was as tan as his, her eyes the same shade of blue and hair the same black, but that’s where the similarities ended, her features and build were delicate. What he could remember of Kendall, Isabella got that from her. How would he explain this to her when she got older?
“I know what you’re thinking, and you have plenty of time to find answers for her questions. Eat,” Troy ordered and pushed a plate with two thick sandwiches towards him. “Beers in the fridge, you look like you need one.” The beautiful man smiled then turned his attention back to Isabella.
“Troy, I gots to potty.”
He tensed, and Troy’s contentment didn’t change.
“Let’s go then.” Troy just smiled and picked her up from the counter to carry her out of the room.
They looked so natural together, and Win figured he looked stiff—incompetent. His parents hadn’t been much in the parental responsibility department. They both had expensive habits, and his mother would do whatever to get what they needed.
Everyone had known his mom’s husband wasn’t his father—the blue eyes gave it away for all to see. He remembered the fights and the accusations while his mom had continued to see the man who had fathered him. She was always her prettiest when she had a date with the unknown man. He didn’t even know if the stranger was aware that he’d fathered a kid or if the man had, he didn’t think the man cared.
Growing up his parents taught him lessons about how to make it in life. Drugs, prostitution, theft, those are the things his parents taught him about. Yet when he’d killed a man on his eighteenth birthday in a drunken, drug-fueled brawl, they’d turned their backs on him. Win knew nothing about family, so how was he going to raise his daughter to be happy when he didn’t know anything about it?
“You’re thinking too hard again.” Troy’s breath teased his ear. “Give your dad a hug…he needs it and then it’s bath time for Miss Bella.” Win was shocked as tiny arms wrapped around his neck, and a sloppy, loud kiss landed on his cheek. “Do you have a bag for her?”
“I grabbed everything they left. It’s all in the truck.”
“Go grab it and bring it upstairs, it’s Bedtime 101, starting with a bath. Meet you upstairs. Win, you’ll do great,” Troy whispered, and soft lips brushed his cheek to Isabella’s amusement. The other man disappeared with his giggling daughter, and he tried not to think about the too brief kiss.
Bath time was a mess, cleaning a tiny slip of a girl shouldn’t have flooded the bathroom floor, but he was kneeling in a puddle drying her off. She looked like an onyx-haired Cousin It with her hair hanging around her. Bella giggled the whole time, and Troy watched from the sink with a pink nightgown in his slender hands.
“You survived her first bath, how’s it feel?” Troy asked, his voice thick with amusement.
He didn’t like being made fun of—he’d failed at bath time.
“Easy, big guy, you’re too easy to read,” the man accused.
He disagreed, everyone thought he was impossible to read, but for some reason, Troy found it easy. He threw the towel on the floor to soak up some of the water.
“Dad, do I live here now?”
Through the whole process Troy always referred to him as Dad, he didn’t know if she understood, but it seemed Troy was trying to get her used to it. He thought kids her age baby talked, but she was amazingly clear. With an edge of childish lisping and tongue rolling over certain letters, not having to decipher her speech eased him a bit further.
“Well, you live at my place, where Mrs. Grover dropped you off.”
“I don’ live with Troy?” Bella’s lip started to quiver.
No, he couldn’t deal with tears, not on day one of being a Dad anyway. He knew he’d have to get used to that at some point, but he wasn’t ready. His chest did this funny tightening thing, and he wondered if he was going to have a panic attack at just the thought of hurting his daughter’s feelings. Daughter, the word was odd but strangely comforting. Besides Brent, Troy, and the guys, he didn’t have many people to call family or friends. He did have friends from the old neighborhood that he’d kept in touch with, but nothing like that. This tiny child was a part of him. Kendall and him hadn’t had any illusions about what they had, but Bella was something good he’d done.
Troy stepped in for the save. “Bella, you can visit and stay with me, but you live with your dad. Guess what though?”
“What?” She sounded so sad.
“You get to sleep here, and then tomorrow you’ll go to work with me.”
“What, I can—” Win tried to tell him no.
“Win, you have to work tomorrow, and I’ll be in an office all day. Bella and I will hang out. We’ll go have lunch and visit the p-a-r-k.”
Win chuckled. Over the years, Troy had this unconscious way of calming him. The beautiful man grounded him when the chaos inside him threatened to destroy the life he’d made. And Troy didn’t have to do anything more than be there.
“I don’t want to promise then we can’t go.” Troy shot him a completely disgusted glare.
“Okay, okay.” Win held up his hands.
“Bella, come on, let’s get dressed and we’ll go watch cartoons for an hour before bed.” Troy dressed Bella quickly and pulled up a diaper thing that was like underwear. The slim man picked Bella up and left him alone in the bathroom. “Clean up your mess, Win, I’m not your maid.”
Win suppressed a bellowing laugh at the haughty tone and began mopping up the floor, then wiped the sides of the tub down with a hand towel. He decided to take a shower of his own, but he’d have to grab his emergency bag from the truck. After the first time a pipe had exploded and sent who the fuck knows what all over him—he shuddered at the memory—he kept clean clothes in his work truck.
Jogging down the steps, he stopped in the living room, but he didn’t see Troy and Bella. “Brent, you know where Troy and Bella are?”
“Probably his room, it’s the only other one with a TV.”
“Okay, good night.”
“You too, son, get some rest. It’s been a weird day for you.”
Win couldn’t deny it and ran out to his truck. Back inside, he returned to the bathroom, showered, changed and brushed his teeth. Wiping his hand over the steamed-up mirror, he looked at himself and shoved his fingers through his hair. Troy kept him occupied all evening, so he hadn’t had time to fall under the panic attack he had fought off.
Dressed in athletic shorts and an a-shirt, he picked up his wet clothes. He didn’t want to get his work clothes for tomorrow wet. He placed his bag and all in the corner on the towel stand out of the way. Time to find Troy and Bella. He’d been there enough to know which room Troy’s was, yet he’d never been in it.
The TV still played quietly, so he pushed the door open carefully and peeked inside. Win held his breath. Troy was lying on his side with Bella curled up against his chest. His arm around her and a pillow behind her, Win assumed in case she rolled over. The spot beside them called to him. Through the worry and terror, Troy had eased the vice around his chest. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, ambled softly towards the bed and pulled the covers back to lie down in the space beside his daughter.
He tensed as the bed shifted under his weight, Win didn’t want to wake them up, so he moved slower. Finally, he settled onto his side of the mattress. Instantly a tiny fist popped him in the face. A soft chuckle brought his attention to Troy.
“Watch out; she’s got one helluva right hook in her sleep.”
“Thanks for the late warning.”
“She’s beautiful, Win, you’re a very lucky man.”
“Yeah, I wish she was as lucky, me as her old man is a curse.”
“No, Win, she’s just as lucky to have you. Now, go to sleep, tomorrow has plenty of opportunities for you to worry. Tonight, just enjoy, you may not have known about her, but you did a great job, she’s perfect.”
The
lump in his throat kept him from answering. His daughter curled up to his chest with her tiny fists tightly wrapped in his shirt. Win smoothed her now braided hair, and for the first time in his life, his eyes burned with unshed tears. She really was perfect. And he was going to screw her up, but worse than that was the gaze he felt heavy on him. He looked up to see a soft smile directed at him, and then he darted his gaze away.
“Don’t worry; I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”
“No, it’s okay. What if she wakes up and I don’t know what to do. Stay, please, Troy?”
“Okay.” The reply was nothing more than a whisper.
Win almost leaned across Bella to kiss Troy in thanks. Yeah, a thanks, that’s exactly why he wanted to kiss the other man. He didn’t deserve them, sooner or later whatever fates gave him these gifts would come to their senses and take them away. He wasn’t worthy, a man stained with his sins didn’t get a happily ever after. His eyes closed, sleep nowhere in sight, but he didn’t want Troy to see more than he was willing to share. The man knew him too well, and Win didn’t know when that happened.
5
Tiny whimpers woke Troy as Bella tossed and turned. Without thinking about it too much, he wrapped his arms around her and slid from the bed. He straightened with Bella cradled her to his chest, and skinny arms and legs wrapped around him. She was still caught within the web of sleep. It was barely 3 a.m., and Win still needed sleep.
“Come on, baby girl, let’s not wake your dad,” Troy whispered and exited the room.
The girl was adorable. There wasn’t a doubt she was Win’s when he’d opened the door earlier. Her head lolled to the side, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. He walked softly through the house to the kitchen, a nightlight burned under the table in the breakfast nook. He turned on the radio installed under the cabinet and found some easy listening. Walking her was a bad idea, Win would hate him when she needed it to calm down when Troy wasn’t there.
Him not being there, the thought saddened him. He blocked out the depressing train his mind was on and sang softly to her as he swayed around the kitchen.
