“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. I stopped in front of the fridge and tugged the door open, leaning in to check. “There’s beer, but that belongs to Dad. We have juice, too, they’re mine and I’m willing to share with you. There’s wine, too, if you’d rather have that.”
Howard shrugged, unconcerned. “Just give me what you’re having.”
“I’m having water,” I clarified.
“Then bring me water,” he said simply.
I got a pair of glasses from the cupboard and poured water for the both of us, then went back to the living room. Howard was already seated on the couch, and I set his glass on the small coffee table for him, and sat on the opposite end, tucking my legs beneath me as I took a sip of my water.
“You look exhausted,” Howard said.
I smiled wanly. “Is it that obvious? I’ve had a shit day, is all. Not the worst by far, but it was pretty terrible.”
“What happened?”
I looked at him curiously. He seemed to be really concerned about this, and I smiled. I had friends, of course, but they were all busy with their own lives while I was still trying to get a career off the ground, so I didn’t get to see them as much as I would like. Having someone show concern for me felt good.
“I had a couple interviews to go to today,” I admitted.
His eyebrows jump up. “Don’t tell me, you’re actually looking for a position on a different team? You want to be a general manager for a football team, right?”
“Yeah, I was looking into other teams. Dad probably won’t change his mind on letting me work for the Eagles, and I feel like I’ve wasted enough time waiting on him to change his mind. What about you? Did you get through to him?”
“I’m still working on him, too,” he said. “Of course, it’s going to be a lot harder for me, at least you have a chance to speak to him, but I’m not his daughter. I’d really hoped we could work for the same team.”
“That would have been nice, huh,” I mused, then sighed. “And being his daughter isn’t as big a deal as you think. So, what if I can talk to him if he won’t listen to me? It’s absolutely pointless, isn’t it? That’s why I was trying to move on. I guess even this much won’t be that easy, though.”
I finished my water and stretched to set the glass on the table. Then I picked up the remote that was sitting between us on the couch and turned on the TV. I set it to some music channel and left the volume low.
“So, how did the interviews go?”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic to hear about it,” I accused.
He smiled. “It’s not that, I just thought we could spend more time together if I could make it back on the team, and now you’re planning on going away. But this is something you want, right? So, tell me how it went? Not well?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I’d still support the team regardless, but I didn’t even get to be interviewed. Which is complete bullshit, because I had to wait a whole hour in that first place I went to before they told me they couldn’t interview me.”
“Really? Both of them?”
“Yeah, both of them. I had to leave early to get to the first one, and after I couldn’t do the interview, I had to waste a few hours before I went to the next one, but it’s further away so I couldn’t come back home and then go. I got pissed off, so I walked around and wasted the afternoon before I came back.”
“Did they at least give you a reason why they canceled on you?”
“I didn’t get a direct reason, I kept asking and they kept running me around in circles. It’s why I was so frustrated, you know? I do have an idea why, though.”
My irritation from earlier came back, and I scowled at the TV.
“What do you mean?”
“I think my dad is behind it.”
“Really?”
Howard sounded surprised, but I was as sure as I could be without making him confess to it. There was no other reason why I got called to two perfectly good interviews only to have both get cancelled. Even though Dad didn’t even look at it, my resume was actually good. There weren’t that many local teams, and I had to go far to find those two. If I wanted to look for another team, I’d have to leave town, maybe go to a different state. I wondered what Dad would do if I told him I would go that far to get what I wanted. Would he stop trying to get me to do what he wanted, then?
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“I’m not in the mood to talk to my dad at all, and I don’t doubt he’d just lie if I asked about it. Or he might just admit to it and tell me to stop trying. I can’t even tell which would be worse.”
I let out a groan and leaned my head against the back of the couch. Technically, I had a job, since I’d been working as an agent the entire time, and it had been at Dad’s insistence, but it wasn’t like I got to do much, and I still got paid. I knew it was Dad’s idea, but when I took the job, I thought it would just hold me over before I got a general manager position. Three years later, and I still didn’t have the job I wanted.
“But if you can’t talk to him, how can you know for sure?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Dad is pretty influential, you know? It seems like he’s been throwing his weight around. I didn’t realize his influence reached so far, but I’m not surprised, he’s been in this field for years, after all. It’s practically his whole life by this point. I just... don’t want to deal with it today, so can we stop talking about it?”
It was only making my mood worse. If I could forget it all for today, I could try to fight Dad over it later, because there was no way I could just let this go. If I kept giving into what Dad wanted, then I wasn’t really living for myself, was I? I was going along with his plans and ignoring my own. It was what I’d done up until now, but I was fed up with it already.
We sat in silence for a while, and I let my eyes slide closed. The music from the TV was the perfect background noise to stop the atmosphere from turning awkward.
I needed to think about what I was going to do now. I wasn’t about to let Dad have his way, but I had to be smart. This was something I wanted, and I was going to do it no matter what. Looking for teams so far away I’d have to move would have to be a last resort and talking him into letting me do what I wanted obviously didn’t help one bit, so I wasn’t going to bother with that, either.
“Have you eaten?”
I blinked my eyes open and turned to Howard. “What?”
“Did you stop by somewhere to eat before you came home?”
I frowned. Howard wasn’t always the most readable of men, but I could tell there was something he wasn’t telling me. I started at him before I finally answered. “Uh, no. I didn’t even have much for lunch, actually, just a hot dog to tide me over and some ice cream.”
“That doesn’t count for a meal, but that’s good.”
He rose from the couch and I watched him curiously.
“Why is that good?”
“I’ll cook you a dinner to forget all about your bad day, then I’ll run you a hot bath.”
“You’re staying?” I blurted out in surprise.
He grinned. “Of course. Or would you rather I go?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Actually, that sounds like the perfect recipe to make me feel better. Thank you for doing this.”
“No problem. Just sit back and I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Okay...”
He headed for the kitchen, and I stared at his back. This wasn’t the first time Howard had cooked for me, I’d cooked for him, too, the times I went to his apartment, and when he came to the house one time. It was, however, one of the times he didn’t try to seduce me. When he found me in a mood unfit for company, we’d hang out for a bit, but go our separate ways for the night. He seemed to know when I needed space but seeing him bustling around in my kitchen making me dinner made me feel a little strange.
We... weren’t dating. We met up, hooked up, and left things a
t that. Maybe I was imagining things, but that formula seemed to be changing recently, and Howard was the one doing all the changes. I wondered if something had happened.
I turned to the TV, turning the volume up a bit when a song I liked came on. I kept throwing glances at him, but with his back to me, I couldn’t see what he was doing or making. Sometimes, he would move out of my sight, then move to the counter where I could see him through the open door.
“Do you need any help?” I called out.
He shot me a smile over his shoulder. “I told you already, didn’t I? Just sit and wait, you’ll know when I’m done.”
I hadn’t been in the mood to make dinner. I figured I’d just grab some fruit and a yogurt cup then go to sleep, but now that he was cooking for me, while it made me happy, it made me feel restless, too.
Then, my phone rang. My mood was good, so I took it out of my purse, but couldn’t help frowning when I saw it was a call from Dad. I thought about ignoring him for about a second, since he was the reason for my earlier bad mood, but I decided to pick up the call.
“Is there something I can help you with, Dad?”
“No, Zoe. Sorry for calling this late, I just wanted to tell you something.”
Like admit you cut off my chances to work on other football teams, I thought.
“It’s not that late, Dad,” I sighed. “What is it?”
“I have plans, so I’m going away for the weekend. I just wanted to let you know in case you wanted something. Don’t wait up, okay? I don’t want you to think I’m ignoring you or avoiding you or something, I’ll be back home on Monday evening.”
I wondered if he knew I’d had my interviews cancelled and would be looking to him for answers because I suspected he was behind it. Even though he said he wasn’t, maybe he was running away to avoid me. Then what he said hit me, and I smiled.
“You’ll be gone, for the whole weekend?”
There was a short pause. “You don’t have to be so happy about that, Zoe. Do you not like your dad anymore?”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that!” I dialed back on the enthusiasm, feeling my cheeks heat. “Thanks for telling me, Dad. I might look for you after you get back, but I hope you have a nice weekend.”
He sighed. “It’s mostly work, so I don’t know about nice, but hopefully I come back with good news. I’ll see you.”
“Bye, Dad.”
My earlier irritation at him died away completely. I loved him, but some time away would do us both good. It felt like my bad day had been turned into a good one. I didn’t have to face Dad for a while, and I got to spend time with Howard.
If I asked Howard to stay over for the weekend, would he?
Chapter Seven
Zoe
I was humming along to a song on the TV, singing the parts that I knew, when I realized Howard was standing at the kitchen doorway just staring at me, and I stopped.
“Don’t stop,” he said, laughing. “You have a nice voice.”
I grimaced. “If you think so, you’re probably tone deaf.”
“Well, dinner’s ready, so you can come and eat. Or would you rather I bring it here?”
“No, that’s fine.” I jumped up, taking the remote to turn the volume up on the music, then walking over to Howard, following the nice smell coming from the kitchen I’d only just noticed. “What did you make? It smells delicious.”
“I thought something simple would be best. We’re having baked chicken with stuffed baked potatoes. I cut up the chicken into strips, so you can just set the table. Do you have barbecue sauce? I like to have something to dip it in.”
“Sure.”
I got some plates and cutlery and transferred them to the table. Howard brought everything over and set them in the middle. I took several strips of chicken and a baked potato. I took a bite out of each, and groaned at the amazing taste.
“How the heck are you better than me at cooking,” I grumbled in mock annoyance.
“I guess I’ve just got the touch,” he said with a chuckle. “I used to help Mom with cooking. Dad left us when I was really young, I barely remember him, so it was just Mom and me for the longest time. I started helping out with cooking and other chores in the house around middle school because it took a lot of effort for her to work and raise a kid on her own. I pretty much looked after myself just to give her a break.”
I smiled sadly as I ate another strip of chicken. “I never did that. Mom always insisted on doing everything since it was the only job she had, taking care of Dad and me. She did everything without complaint, even up until she got sick. Dad and I barely knew how to take care of ourselves without her around.”
It wasn’t until I was around eighteen, when Mom got really sick, that I started learning to cook, and it had been an uphill battle since then. Dad was an even worse cook, having never stepped foot in a kitchen for anything other than getting his coffee and maybe some toast, so back then, it was left to me. I’d cook, and sometimes the food would come out great and sometimes not so great. When I was distracted, I’d forget and everything would burn.
Things weren’t easy for us back then. Not for either Dad or me. We both woke up in the morning and had breakfast prepared, if we were home for lunch then Mom cooked without being asked and called us for food. The same for dinner. There was never one time I remembered going up to Mom and saying ‘I’m hungry’ because she always seemed to know and took care of it before it was a problem.
Mom really took care of us.
It was depressing, every time I thought about my mom. So much time had gone by, but the pain didn’t lessen, I just got used to it. There were times I could even picture the happy times, and I no longer cried over it, except for two specific dates. Her birthday, which we’d always celebrated, just the two of us even if Dad was busy with something, and the anniversary of her death.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Howard said, breaking me out of my thoughts. When I met his gaze, his expression as he watched me was sympathetic. “What did she have?”
I sighed. “She had cancer. I can’t even remember which kind of cancer, because that time of my life is really hazy. It was several years before she actually died from the day she got diagnosed, but it felt like the time passed by so fast... it’s hard to believe it’s been five whole years since then.”
“And you miss her,” he stated.
“Of course. How could I not? She and I were pretty close. You’re lucky you still have your mom with you.”
I stabbed at a piece of chicken. I didn’t mean to make the mood so melancholic, but I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t something I should be able to get over. Then, Howard chuckled, and I looked up, frowning.
“What’s so funny?”
He smiled. “It’s not that there’s anything funny. You realize this is the first time you’ve talked to me about anything personal?”
My frown deepened. “That’s not true. You and I talk all the time. I’ve even told you about–”
“Everything you’ve ever talked to me about, has something to do with the team. Even if it’s something personal, it has something to do with the team, how you really want the GM position but your dad won’t allow you and such. This is the first time I’m hearing about your personal life entirely outside of football.”
“I told you about my friends that one time,” I said defensively.
“You did,” he agreed. “But that was because I happened to meet you outside when you were with one of them. You couldn’t even bring yourself to introduce me to her. Really, Zoe, I would think you were ashamed of me or something.”
“It’s not that, it’s just...”
Because we weren’t really together, I didn’t think there was any reason to be involved in each other’s personal lives. Of course, then it turned out Dad and his mom were dating, so I’d even met his mom already, which was a step higher than any other guy I’d been with, and Howard and I weren’t even officially dating.
I’d thought that this whole ti
me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words right then. It felt like something was choking me. Clearing my throat, I set down my fork and got up.
“I think I’d like something to drink. Do you want anything? Or just water again?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” he said simply.
I was relieved when he went along with me changing the subject. I went to the fridge and looked over the choices. There was some beer in the fridge, but it was Dad’s. I never touched his alcohol in case he asked about it, because it would lead to a conversation, I didn’t need to have with my dad at twenty-six.
We had some wine bottles that had been around for a few years. It was a good thing that wine didn’t expire with age. Dad rarely touched them, since they’d been Mom’s, and I occasionally drank a glass when I was in a particularly bad mood, but I didn’t break any of them out today. There was lemonade, so I poured two glasses of that and went back to the table.
“Lemonade with chicken?” He asked skeptically.
I chuckled. “One of my mom’s favorite pairings. Actually, she’d have it with wine, but because I couldn’t drink wine, she would drink lemonade with me. A lot of my friends would go for chicken with beer back in college, but I always have it with lemonade, or lemon water. If I don’t have that I’ll have orange juice.”
Howard followed my lead as I ate a bite of chicken and washed it down with the lemonade. The taste was nostalgic for me, and Howard seemed pleasantly surprised.
“You like it?”
He nodded. “It surprisingly works.”
We continued to eat in silence for a while. Even when we didn’t talk, it felt comfortable with him. This wasn’t like how it was when it was me and Dad, and I did miss eating with someone else. After I graduated college, Dad would come home late after eating out so there were few times when I had to cook for more than one person. This was even better, because I didn’t have to cook it.
The Running Back's Baby Page 3
