Clutch Player

by Ash, Nikki

  “Isn’t that why you’re not taking them during the week?”

  “Harper, can we please not do this?” Richard sighs in annoyance. “If I could take them, I would.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. I think he’s lied so many times to the kids and me, he’s now believing his own lies.

  I pull up to Bridget’s house and Ella takes her headphones off. “We’re here!” she shouts.

  “Ella?” Richard questions.

  “She had her headphones on,” I tell him before he can make a comment.

  “Hey, Daddy!” Ella yells, even though there’s no need to.

  “Hey, Ella. Did you have fun at camp?” Richard asks.

  “I did! Are you coming to get us?”

  There’s a moment of silence on Richard’s end. It was easy for him to not show up when we first divorced. The kids were younger and didn’t understand it all. But as they get older, they ask questions.

  “Daddy has to work,” Richard says.

  I look in the rearview mirror and see Ella frown in disappointment, and my heart squeezes in my chest. As a mother, all I want to do is protect my babies from ever being hurt. But how do you protect them when the person hurting them is their own father?

  “You know I have an important job.”

  Yeah, because being a surgeon is more important than being a father…

  “Say bye to Daddy, Ella,” I cut in. “We’re at Bridget’s,” I say to Richard.

  “Bye, Daddy,” she says, her voice now soft and no longer happy.

  “Bye, Ella. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” she says back before I disconnect the call.

  “Wine as promised,” Bridget says with a dimpled grin from the kitchen, holding up a bottle of my favorite red.

  “You make me so happy.” I sigh, grabbing a glass and holding it out for Bridget to pour. “Where are the boys?” I ask, realizing the house is too quiet.

  “Outside practicing the stuff they learned today. Apparently, some retired baseball player from the Boston Reds was there helping out and the boys think he walks on water.” Bridget laughs as my heart plummets into my stomach. There’s no way it could be… It’s been over twelve years, but even after all this time, my heart still beats wildly in my chest when he crosses my mind.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Bridget asks as we take a seat on the couch in her living room. “You went from moaning over the wine to looking like someone killed your puppy.”

  I glance over at Ella, who is already hard at work doing one of the twins’ hair in adorable pigtails.

  “Once upon a time I dated a boy who played baseball.”

  “Who? Richard?”

  I once mentioned to her that before Richard got wrapped up in college and medical school, he used to play baseball and basketball in high school.

  “No, another boy. He owned my heart. But then he left to play in the Minor Leagues in Salem, Virginia, and we were just too young to handle the whole long distance thing. I saw pictures of him with other girls on social media, and I ended things before he could break my heart. After we broke up, Richie—I mean Richard—” Even after all these years of him wanting to be called Richard, I often forget. According to him, a doctor needs a serious name, and Richie isn’t a serious name. “Richard and I had a one-night stand at a party,” I whisper so Ella won’t overhear. “A couple months later I found out I was pregnant. When I told him, he asked me to be a family, and the rest is history.”

  “So, you never saw him again? This boy who owned your heart?”

  “No, I did. When I was four months pregnant, he showed up at my door.” I take a sip of my wine, trying not to get choked up at the memory of the last time I saw him…

  “Landon, what are you doing here?” I ask, confused and shocked as to why he’s standing on my front doorstep. We haven’t spoken in months.

  “You blocked me on social media and sent some bullshit text about not being able to talk to me anymore. Did you think I’d just let you go that easily?”

  After I found out I was pregnant and decided to keep the baby, Richie caught me checking Landon’s social media and told me we would never work if I was still hung up on another guy. Knowing he was right, I texted Landon and told him I couldn’t talk to him anymore then blocked him from my social media. All ties being cut is what we would need in order for the both of us to move on.

  “Landon…” I don’t know what to say. I don’t realize my hand is rubbing on my belly until he glances down and his eyes widen in shock.

  “You’re pregnant?” he asks, his voice rising several octaves. I can see the cogs in his head turning, wondering for a brief second if there’s some way, any way that maybe he’s the father. But it’s impossible. We haven’t been together in over eight months.

  “It’s Richie’s,” I admit softly. His face contorts into a look of pain and hurt, and it breaks my heart all over again.

  “What the hell do you mean it’s Richie’s? You slept with him? When?” His fists clench at his sides.

  “It was an accident,” I try to explain. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “You didn’t mean to spread your legs for your ex-boyfriend? The same guy who treated you like shit when you were dating him?” Stepping closer, he lifts my left hand and assesses the engagement ring on my finger. “And you’re engaged.”

  “We are,” I choke out. “I’m so sorry.”

  He looks back up at me and shakes his head. “I’m too late.”

  My cries get louder, and my entire body shakes from my sobs.

  “They moved me up,” he says flatly. “I’m the new starting pitcher for the Boston Reds.”

  They moved him up… which means… “You’re back?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “Not back here, here. I’m renting an apartment near the stadium in the city.”

  He’s back, and he’s too late because I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.

  One night.

  One mistake.

  That’s all it takes.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cry out for what feels like the tenth time. “I… I…” I can’t even finish my sentence. This is all my fault. I thought I was saving my heart by breaking up with him. I saw those images and didn’t want to wait for him to cheat. And in the end, I’m the one who destroyed our future, not him. I didn’t have faith in him—in us—and so I pushed him away. Now, here he is, standing on my doorstep, and I’m breaking both our hearts.

  Without thinking about it, I fling myself into Landon’s arms, needing to feel his warmth one last time.

  He envelops me in a hug as I cry into his chest. “Shh… it’s okay, Harper,” he coos. “You don’t have to be sorry for moving on.”

  I want to correct him, tell him I didn’t move on, but it will only make it harder. He deserves better than this. Better than me. He deserves to live out his dreams and create a life for himself. Meet a woman who will believe in him and love him the way he deserves.

  Eventually we break apart and Landon gives me a sad smile. “You’re going to make a great mom, Harp.”

  I nod, not able to speak. I’ll only lose it again.

  “I better get going. I have to get situated. I came straight over here…”

  Another nod. The lump in my throat is so big, it’s hard to breathe.

  Landon bends slightly and kisses my forehead. “Bye, beautiful.”

  “Oh, Harper, you’re crying,” Bridget points out, grabbing a tissue from the end table and handing it to me.

  “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Just a rough day.” I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself.

  “Have you tried to contact him since you and Richard split up?”

  “No way.” I scoff. “I’ve looked him up on social media a few times. He’s the playboy of all playboys.” I roll my eyes, remembering all the pictures of him partying with various women. After the way he was with me when we dated, I thought for sure he would move on and have a family. But he did the opposite. D
ating various women over the years, but never long enough to ever settle down.

  “Well, Simon was a playboy,” Bridget says with a laugh.

  “That’s only because I was getting it out of my system for when I would meet you,” Simon adds in his hella sexy British accent as he walks into the living room holding bags of takeout.

  “I was going to say that.” Bridget grins at her husband with hearts in her eyes. “Maybe this guy… what’s his name? Landon?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Landon Maxwell.”

  “The baseball player?” Simon interrupts.

  “Yeah.” There aren’t many people who don’t know who Landon Maxwell is, especially since the Reds won the World Series last season. Everyone thought Landon would renew his contract, but once there was speculation of him being traded, he came out and said his arm is in bad shape and has decided to retire.

  “Like I was saying,” Bridget says, giving her husband a look I can’t quite decipher. “Maybe he’s just waiting for you…”

  “It’s been over twelve years,” I deadpan. “I’ve been married, divorced, have two kids, and a mom body.” I roll my eyes. “Go ahead and Google his name. His type is young and busty, not moms with stretchmarks on carpool duty.”

  “Hmm… well, I happen to think you’re hot,” Bridget says, standing and walking over to the kitchen table. “Isn’t she, Simon?”

  Simon laughs. “I only have eyes for my wife.” He pulls her into his arms and kisses her. Wanting to give them a moment, I excuse myself to the kitchen to grab some plates and silverware and then go outside to call the boys in. They’re both sweaty and dirty, so I have them get washed up before they come to the table.

  Once everyone is seated, we all dig in. The boys talk about a new video game Brendan just got. Ella tells everyone about her upcoming gymnastics competition, and the twins talk and laugh happily amongst themselves.

  “I was talking to Calliope today,” Bridget says, taking a bite of her fried rice.

  “Is she in town?” Calliope is a good friend of Simon and Bridget’s. She owns a yoga studio downtown that Bridget likes to drag me to a few times a week. Because she and her husband love to travel, and she no longer teaches classes, I’ve only met her a handful of times.

  “No,” Bridget says. “On the phone.”

  Trying to multitask—something I’m not very good at—I’m looking at Bridget while I reach for my glass of wine. Of course, my fingers slip and the glass topples over. Simon throws a towel my way as everyone else lifts their plates. Yes, he has a towel on standby because there aren’t many meals that go by without me spilling or knocking something over.

  “Shoot! Sorry!” I wipe up the spilled liquid. Once the table is dry, everyone sets their plates back down in unison.

  After I throw the towel into the washer, I sit back down, this time with water. “So, what were you saying?” I sigh, done with today.

  Bridget laughs, and I’m thankful to have friends who love my clumsy ass. “I was saying that Calliope is going on this weekend spa getaway.” She beams. “Can you imagine two full days and nights of—”

  “Mom, can I have more chicken?” Brendan interrupts.

  Bridget forks some onto his plate then continues. “Two full days and nights of no kids. Massages every day. Manis, pedis—”

  “Mommy,” Ella interrupts, and Simon chuckles. “I need more red sauce, please.”

  I reach for it, but Simon stops me. “I’ll give it to her.” He winks playfully and Bridget cracks up.

  “Two days of eating without being interrupted,” Bridget quickly says, giving our children a playful glare. “We need to make this happen.”

  “You guys should do it,” Simon says, handing the twins each another piece of chicken.

  “Before I make any plans to go on vacation, I need to secure a job.” I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Art Education a couple months ago and now I’m trying to find a job at one of the local schools.

  “Well, with your birthday having just passed, I was thinking it could be my present to you.” She shrugs.

  “Bridge, friends buy each other a bottle of wine for their birthday. They don’t pay for a weekend getaway.” I shake my head. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “But if I bought it and it’s nonrefundable, you would have to accept it,” she challenges, popping a piece of broccoli tempura into her mouth. I don’t even bother to argue with her. I already know once she gets something in her head, there’s no stopping her.

  “I’ll have to see if Richard can take the kids.”

  “If he can’t, they can hang out here,” Simon offers.

  The kids finish eating, and after taking their dishes up to the sink, disperse. The girls go back to playing in the living room, and the boys go to Brendan’s room to play video games. Bridget and I chat for a little while longer before I realize it’s getting late and tell the kids to clean up so we can head home. They both have to be at camp at eight o’clock.

  “Yoga tomorrow?” Bridget asks, walking with us out to the car.

  “Ugh…” I give her a I don’t want to look. The same look I give her every time she asks.

  “That’s a yes.” She smiles sweetly, her big dimples popping out of her cheeks. “See you there. Eleven a.m. sharp.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Twelve

  Harper

  “Close your eyes… Breathe in deeply…Let your legs fall to the left…Breathe out…Bring your legs to the center…Breathe in…Now to the right…And breathe out…Now open your eyes and sit up.”

  We all do as the yoga instructor says and sit back up in our starting position. Once I’m up, I glance around and find that Simon is sitting in the back, drinking a smoothie and grinning from ear to ear.

  “Looks like you have an audience,” I say to Bridget, who glances over at her husband and laughs, love shining in her green eyes.

  I take a second to watch them smiling at each other and wish, not for the first time, I could find a love like that—one that’s sweet and pure and genuine. I had it once, but I was too young to understand and appreciate it, and I lost it. Now, I wonder if I’ll ever find it again. I do know one thing for sure, if I do, this time, I’ll work like hell to protect and keep it.

  “Three years later and he’s still showing up to watch my ass.” Bridget bats her eyelashes and gives her ass a little shake. “It must be true love.”

  We laugh and stand. After we’re done rolling up our mats, we walk over to join him, and he hands us each a smoothie.

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “A man who only has eyes for his wife’s ass and spoils her friends. Too bad you don’t have a brother,” I joke.

  Simon laughs, but Bridget scoffs. “How are you ever supposed to find a man if you never even date.” Damn it, I walked myself right into that one.

  “I’ve been kind of busy,” I point out. “Going to school, being a mom… Have you been to college lately?” I groan. “The guys are in their twenties and are only looking to have a good time.” Like I should’ve been doing… Only I got pregnant my senior year of high school, and instead of going to college like I planned, I let Richard talk me into staying home with our son while he attended college. And then when I was finally about to start school, I made the mistake of letting him talk me into having another baby. Not that I regret having Ella. I love her with all my being. I just regret believing Richard when he told me another baby would save our marriage. But I was young and naïve, and I wanted to give my children a family. While I’ve made many mistakes along the way, I refuse to dwell on them, because I have two beautiful, healthy children, and I finally have my degree.

  “Well, now you’ve graduated. What about one of those dating sites?” Bridget suggests.

  “Those are horrible,” Simon says. “Only creeps go on dating sites.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay… what about letting me set you up then?” Bridget suggests.

  “Who do you know?” I laugh. Bridget’s a nurse,
but she’s been home for the last few years with her kids.

  “I know people,” she argues as Simon throws his head back with a laugh.

  “Do not let her set you up,” he says, pointing his finger at his wife. “Don’t you remember when you set me up with that boney-ass kitten-lover?”

  Bridget gasps. “Hey! You set me up with that doctor who spent the entire meal coughing all over everyone.”

  “The date I picked out was way better than the one you picked,” Simon argues.

  “Wait, you two set each other up?” I shake my head at their craziness.

  “Once, before Simon got his head out of his ass and realized I was the one for him.” Bridget leans over and kisses her husband’s cheek.

  “That’s kind of adorable,” I say, taking a sip of my drink and wishing I had someone I could be adorable with.

  “Please let me set you up,” Bridget begs, clasping her hands together.

  “If anyone should be setting Harper up, it should be me,” Simon says. “I have access to tons of doctors. Who do you have access to? Stay-at-home moms?” He laughs and Bridget glares.

  “I think I’ll just wait. For one, I’m kind of done with doctors. No offense.” Unlike Richard, who works twenty-four seven, Simon works at a walk-in clinic and is home every day by five. He also takes regular breaks and lunches so he can see Bridget during the day. When I once mentioned that to Richard, after we were divorced, so he could see more of the kids, he looked at me like I was insane and asked if I wanted to keep driving around in my Audi because a walk-in clinic would leave him broke and he would have to lower my child support. I didn’t even bother to argue. It’s pointless. Yes, he does pay a good amount in alimony and child support, but it’s because I was home with the kids while he was working his way up to becoming Chief of Surgery. The problem is Richard just doesn’t get there’s more to life than money. The kids want his presence more than presents.

  “I bet I could set Harper up with someone way better than you can,” Bridget says.

  “Is that a challenge?” Simon asks with a lift of his brow.

  “Umm… I’m not your guinea pig,” I point out, but they both ignore me.