Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) (18 page)

T
he car roars into life
. I wish
I
were roaring into life right about now. If only Stephanie would just be reasonable. Truth is, this divorce is taking everything out of me. I'm more than willing to set her up 'to the style she's become accustomed,' but it appears that she just wants to ream me.

Some women.

Best to just concentrate on what I can control, and let me tell you, it's not Stephanie.
The whole thing is taking forever too. We started this divorce before Christmas last year and it's only being finalized now. The lawyer left me three messages today. She's just got to sign those papers.
I wish it were as easy to get her to sign as it is to get my employees to do their filing. Speaking of which, that cute new girl. What's her name? Adisa with an A. That's it. I'm not going to forget it since the day she came back from the coffee shop with 'Ed Isa' written on her cup. She and Rain were giggling about that. They think I can't hear them, and most of the time I can't. But when the door's cracked a bit I definitely can make out a few things - especially when they get loud. But as long as they're doing their job I don't mind. Their chatter cheers me up.

And I can use some cheering up these days.

It's not like I am at the office all that often. Mostly I stay out of the day-to-day, but lately it's been so dull at the country house that I've been making excuses to get dressed and come into work. It used to be filled with excitement and love, that big house in the country. My heart catches as I think of how we used to talk about having loads of kids to fill up the place.

Of course, that was before we found out Stephanie had mild infertility issues. But we could have been the lucky ones - it's not like we couldn't go for treatment. We could definitely afford it. The best doctors, the best options, and as many times as we wanted. But I guess she was just going along with my wishes. In reality, she was stalling the whole time - apparently she was never quite as keen as I was to have babies, and I’d never have tried too hard to persuade her. It’s just not part of me to push like that, especially  when I am not the one who would be carrying the baby.

But one of the saddest parts of it all for me was that I think she didn't want to lose her figure, and so she just strung me along as long as she could with talk about surrogacy, adoption, whatever. Like I would mind if she had a few extra curves on that body of hers. I’ve never minded “a little something to hold on to” in bed, as we used to say in Texas. I would have loved her either way, and if she were to bear my children I would have worshipped the ground she walked on. Stretch marks or no stretch marks. But she just didn’t feel as strongly as she pretended to when we talked about getting married and building a life together.

I thought I knew her. Thought I saw a light in her eyes when she talked about kids with me.

‘Howsomever,’ as my dad used to say, I guess it was just a fantasy. That's all it ever was, possibly. Even the marriage itself.

In any case, sometimes I like to keep the office door open just a crack so I don't feel so alone. Rain and Adisa with an A are always so cute and friendly with one another. It's like listening to talk radio or a podcast. But I wouldn't mind just hanging out with them too, at the water cooler at least. Or more.  Adisa in particular – I can’t pretend I didn’t notice how pretty she is, or the intelligence and warmth in her dark eyes.  

Whenever they see me coming though, they jump into action as if I don't know what's usually going on. It's pretty funny. And Adisa's eyebrows furrow in the most adorable way as she furiously types into the computer. I try to hide my smile, play the boss role, but at some point I'm going to crack up laughing.  

I flick the stereo system on in the Land Rover, and I hear a guitar for all of three seconds when the phone rings over the stereo system. It's my lawyer again.

"Nicholas!" He barks. "I just wanted to give you an update on the situation."

"What is it?" I ask, trying not to sound as weary as I feel.

"She says she'll sign if you up her alimony an additional five grand per month. We're fighting it, but I just wanted to let you know where we're at."

"Give it to her," I sigh.

"What's that?" I hear him choke, or cough a bit. I know he’s trying to get me the best deal. But I’m just sick of the whole thing.

"Give it to her. As long as it's contingent on signing." I run my hand through my hair. "I gotta be done with this."

"You're sure!" His voice is gruff. "We can fight this thing."

"I'm done fighting," I say finally. And I know it's true. I never wanted to fight in the first place, and I can afford it. I just want us all to move on - for us all to have a chance at happiness. 5K per month is a small price to pay for that.

"Ok, hang on." He puts me on hold for a minute. I wish the music would kick back in, but there's just a tense silence. "All right, we're drawing up the papers.” His voice is gruff but reassuring. “I see the light at the end of the tunnel, kid!"

"I trust you're right." George is a great lawyer. The best. Always has my back in everything I do. For all my frustration, I never wanted to nail Stephanie to the wall, like some ex-husbands. It wasn’t all bad, our courtship, or even our marriage, even if it wasn’t exactly based on what you might refer to as “the truth.” At least on her part. She was there for me when I was building my first business. Even if she didn't contribute financially or anything like that, she was supportive. She looked at me like I could do anything and that kept me going. I loved her. I'd say some small part of me still does, though it's an old and dusty part. The girl I loved back in the day just doesn't exist anymore, so it’s like loving a memory.

Again, to be honest, five grand is almost nothing to me right now. Strange to say it when the Corbett family originally never was wealthy, or rich or anything like that. We were just your average ranchers before we struck oil. Now all my brothers are doing very well, and my parents’ land has become a lot more valuable.

What I did with my portion of the cash was to start this company, and Stephanie was there from the beginning. She wasn't from an especially rich family, but they did fairly well for themselves in New York City. When I met her, I was blown away by her sophistication, her Manhattan style and the fact she was interested in me, just a cowboy for all intents and purposes.  And honestly, I thought I would have changed her somehow from that life. And now that I’ve begun a venture capitalist business, income is going to skyrocket, and she won't see a piece of that. But I'd never be able to have gotten here without her, and she deserves something for that. She might be small-minded and petty when it comes down to it, but a lot of people from my town would have done the exact same thing as she did. Even if it wasn’t good enough for us to stay together, we both did our best during a lot of our marriage and I won't relegate anyone to the trash heap.

But all that said, I would be happy if I never see her exfoliated little face again.

The leather head of the gear shift in my hand grounds me. I can't deal with an automatic transmission, especially in the hills. When I drive out to Connecticut I need to feel those gears shifting, feel the power underneath me. It reminds me of driving the tractor as a kid. Most people wouldn't peg me for a poor farmboy now, but the reality is that I worked on that ranch sunup ’til sundown before I traded it in for business suits and private jets.

I take the next exit. I should be back at the country house soon. Knocking about by myself. Again.

"Just the way I like it," I say aloud in a brave voice, knowing it's not true, but I need to believe it at this moment. I wonder how I'll feel when she signs the papers. I know there will be some measure of relief, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's more. Pain? Jubilation? Some measure of both? Who knows.

"
D
ad
, what are you doing?" I try not to let the irritation enter my voice as I knock on his door. It's only 5pm but I’m pretty sure his bedroom lights are out since I don’t see anything under the door. He shouldn’t even be home yet from his job, which is why I am worried.

"Just having a little nap," comes his voice. "Can't a man have a nap in his own house?"

"Sure dad, sorry," I mutter, turning away from the door. I’m just not sure what to do. He’s always been a great dad, but I never had to baby him or anything like that. My mom knew how to handle him, but that’s not a role I can easily take over. "We'll see you in forty-five minutes for dinner," I say, resigned.

I shake my head as I shut the door. He's retreating from the world, is what he's doing. When the kids used to come home, they'd play for a bit and then he'd walk in the door from work, big smile on his face as they ran to him. Now I doubt he even went into work today. Or yesterday. Or any day this week for that matter.

As I go downstairs I wonder if there is anything I can do. I do think that he needs help. Maybe there's some grief counseling at the church. I'll look into it after I put together a meal.  Before I go to my waitressing job. Arg.

"Where's daddy?" asks Chikae. "Why didn't he come to give us a kiss?"

"He'll be down soon," I demur. "He's just tired today."

"He tired
every
day," says Darius.
"Hush now, baby." Still I can't argue. The boy's right. The only thing to do is to distract them. "What do you guys want for dinner tonight? Mac and cheese and salad?”

"Mac and cheese! Mac and cheese!" chants Darius. "No sa-lad!"
I laugh. I can always hide some veggies in the pasta. "Fair enough. I'll make a quick casserole." Chikae comes up and hugs me around the legs, her big brown eyes looking up at me.

"Thanks for taking care of us, Dani," she says, her voice muffled as she squeezes, face buried in my skirt.

"Of course, Chicky," I say. "I got you!"

I'm fooling myself if I think that the kids don't notice and deeply grieve what's going on with our family. But there really aren't any other options right now. Dad has completely checked out, and it doesn't seem like he's going to be checking back in anytime soon. Sure I feel for him, but there are things to be done. Still, these are his kids, not mine, and there's only so much that one person can accomplish in a day. And despite their sweetness, at times, I’ve never felt more alone.

I feel like a single mom when I'm really only a sister.

I decide to sauté some greens to go with the mac and cheese casserole. It's the least I can do to try to get some vegetables into everyone. Hopefully dad will come down for dinner. Maybe I should send Darius to go up and jump on his bed for a little while. Bounce him right downstairs. Where we need him.

* * *

C
hikae and Darius
, homework finally finished, are brushing their teeth noisily in the bathroom. My dad never came down for dinner, despite his promises, so I end up bringing him up some casserole on a plastic tray. The flowery pattern on the surface seems almost to mock the somber atmosphere in the room as I sit on the bed.

"Daddy, are you sick?" I ask. At least if he is sick, then there's hope. Unless of course it's really bad. Like with mom.

"No baby," he says. He's staring off into space.

"I brought you some supper," I say. "You need to eat." I carefully lay out a napkin and a fork. I can't bear to lose my father too, after everything that has happened, and the thing is, that I am losing him. Even if he's still sitting right here, the jovial man I knew as my father is somewhere else. "Come on daddy, mom wouldn't want to see you like this, so unhappy. Just have a few bites, and then I'll go."

He struggles to sit up. "I know you're right," he says through hands rubbing his face. "I know it. But I miss your mother so much. How do you expect me to go on?" A tear runs down the side of his face, and I feel fear striking my heart. I have never seen my dad cry. But maybe he needs to.

For that matter, maybe I need to. I lost her as well. My mom meant the world to me. But that's why I have to be so strong now, to finish her work. I'll cry later, when the kids are in bed, stories are read, and my dad has had a few bites of my famous casserole. OK, so I just made it up as I went along, but calling it my famous casserole just makes it sound, and me feel, that much better.

He half-heartedly pokes at the plate, but he does end up having the promised few bites. And then a few bites more. "It's good," he says, looking up at me for a moment. "Thanks, Adisa."

"Of course daddy," I force myself to smile, and it reminds me of the smiles I see on Nicholas' face every now and then. Maybe that's why I am so attuned to that sadness he seems to have every now and then, because it echoes my own. I used to play a little bit of guitar, and when I was in high school music class, and one thing I noticed was that when you would play a note really loudly, some of the other guitars would ring along. I thought it was so beautiful. My teacher said it was called 'sympathetic vibration.' Sometimes I wonder if that doesn't happen between people too. When someone feels something really strongly, and that emotion exists in someone else, then their hearts vibrate sympathetically.

Or their souls.

I dunno, I haven't quite figured out how I feel on that subject. But suffice it to say, that when Nicholas smiles like he does sometimes, and I can see that cloud of sadness behind his blue eyes lift, I know that there's something between us. He probably doesn't even know I exist, exactly - I am just a cog in the wheel of his company - but I know that we have felt the same emotion. And right now, that's enough. If it weren’t for his wife, that is.