Quarterback's Unknown Baby Daughter: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 5

  “They’re good people, your folks,” I say with my lips pressed against her pretty head of golden hair.

  I’m glad she had such a strong circle of support around her. It could have been a very difficult path to tread without the benefit of her family on side. But where does that leave us? Now that I know the truth, where do we go from here? I kick myself mentally for not thinking farther ahead than this; having any kind of next move. I should know better than anyone the value of setting a game plan.

  I can’t just bull my way into her life the way I do on the field and start calling the plays, nor would she want me to. I’m not sure I’d want that, either. She hasn’t needed me before, why would she do so now? She’ll think I’m acting out of pity or brushing her and Grace aside if I try flashing my checkbook. But money is the only thing I have to offer right now.

  There’s something else that settles on me like a dark cloud. I’m at a high point in my career and there’s only one direction athletes can go from there. Downward. I may only have a few more good seasons with the NFL before I am expected to hang up the cleats, or worse, sustain a career-ending injury. At thirty-two, I’m rapidly becoming old meat, and a personal scandal like this has the potential to make me something akin to scrapings off a cowhand’s boots around the entire league. There would be little trade interest in me. My body stiffens at this unpalatable buffet of negative outcomes, and I break our embrace.

  “Wyatt? Are you alright?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answer. “I think I need some time to process all of this.”

  Deanna’s expression turns worried. “You asked me a question. I told you the answer. Isn’t it the one you wanted to hear? That you’re a daddy?”

  “But it comes thirteen years too late. I’ve missed out on so much. Grace has missed out on having a father. You had no right to keep her from me. It’s not what the Deanna Murphy I know would do.”

  “I never lied to you, Wyatt. I’m still the same person.”

  “But you weren’t completely honest, either.”

  “I only withheld information. That’s not the same as lying,” she says with a shake of her head.

  “Same result. I’ve been cheated out of knowing my own flesh and blood.”

  Deanna’s deep green eyes flash with emerald fire. “What do you want me to say, Wyatt? That I was wrong to want to protect her? Spare her the stigma of being another celebrity love child?”

  Her words sting sharper than a swarm of bees. I need to leave before I say something equally venomous.

  I keep my voice low and calm before answering, “I need some space right now. I think we both do.” I clap my hat back on my head. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Chapter Nine

  Deanna

  TIME OUT

  Now I’m even further behind schedule than before. Dang it. I wish Wyatt had just gotten on that plane and left us the hell alone. I didn’t expect him to turn up at my place of business. Nor did I expect to have such an emotional exchange with him; spilling my guts along with the truth about Grace’s paternity.

  I feel drained and exhausted. On the one hand, a weight’s been lifted. I’m surprised at how heavy carrying my secret has become over time. On the other hand, I have no idea what will happen next. We hadn’t resolved a thing. The truth was out, yet neither of us had said, “I forgive you.”

  Far from it.

  The way he walked out makes me more anxious than before. With my secret intact, I was in control. Now he knows, and he left no clue as to what he would do with that knowledge. There was a darkness in his eyes as he exited the shop; one I’d never seen before. He’d gotten his questions answered and seemed validated to know that Grace was his, but there was more behind that icy look on his face. He wants something, that’s for dang sure. But what? It’s making me nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  Does he want to be part of our lives now? Stake his claim here in Odessa again? Or will he bolt and hightail it back to New York... Wash his hands of both of us? I don’t blame him for being angry at me; but to reject Grace... that I couldn’t take. He said I wasn’t being honest with him; did omitting the facts constitute dishonesty?

  Who I was really being dishonest with was myself. I can’t ignore the feelings he stirs in me; I would give almost anything to turn back the clock and have things the way they were between us, become a real family.

  I did tell the truth about another thing: there’s never been anyone but Wyatt. He’s the love of my life, and there’s no point in denying it. I’ve never looked at another man, despite the many setups and encouragements from my parents and friends.

  Seeing him again has only underscored that fact, and turned the safe little world I’ve worked so hard to build for Grace and me on its ear. He has no right to interrupt and send all of that off the rails. But I have to think of Grace’s welfare, and her future. Wyatt has loads of money and could afford the moon for her if she wanted. Send her to private school, to an A-list college, buy her the finest clothes, cars, everything.

  Dang it, what is he thinking?

  My stomach clenches as a new thought careens into my brain like an out of control race car.

  Dear Lord, what if he wants custody of her?

  I start to shiver despite the warm temperature in the shop. He can afford an army of lawyers, and provide the kind of lifestyle for Grace I couldn’t possibly match. I know the courts usually side with the mothers, but this situation is far from usual. I’m a single mom, eking out a living running a business that could go sideways anytime the economy turned. He’s a professional athlete, rich and famous and...

  Oh goddangit...

  What if he’s married? How could I be so stupid not to have thought of that? It didn’t come up in our conversation. I don’t follow him in the news or sports mags or social media and deliberately so. I’d insulated myself against him on purpose. I search my memory from last night, to recall if he wore a ring. All I remember were big jeweled championship rings, and so what. Lots of men don’t wear wedding rings, either because of their work or sadly because they liked to fool around. And who fools around more than sports celebrities?

  “Deanna?” Hannah’s voice cuts through the din of my rioting thoughts. “You okay? You look a million miles away.”

  “Oh.” I’m jolted back to the present. “Yeah, fine, I’m fine. Sorry, lost in thought.”

  I look down at the counter and realize how far back I’ve fallen. Hannah has ten containers lined up for me to finish off with the last sprigs of greenery and ribbon and it’s already nearing five o’clock. We’ll never make it.

  “Keep them coming, I’ll catch up.”

  Hannah makes a clucking sound with her tongue. “It’s alright you know, if you need to stop and set a spell. I can manage.”

  I glance across the counter at my assistant; always there when I need her, God bless her. She blinks at me from behind her glasses, her wide brown eyes registering genuine concern.

  “No, really. We’re under the gun here. I can keep going. Thanks for keeping me on my toes,” I say, flashing a weak smile.

  “You’re welcome.” Hannah returns to her work but keeps an eye on me. “You know I’m not one to pry into other folks’ personal business. Especially that of she who signs my paychecks.”

  “But you’re going to anyway?” I prod, my fingers hurriedly tying a big fluffy bow. I suppose I deserve it; I haven’t said a word about Wyatt’s visit all day and bless her heart neither has she.

  “Well hellfire, Deanna, it’s not every day a superstar walks in our door and asks for a private conversation with the owner. Are you going to tell me what went on between you two or are you going to let me die of curiosity?”

  I let out a sigh. It would feel good to confide in someone, but the fewer folks that know about my past, the better. “I won’t let you die, Hannah. You’re far too valuable to me.”

  “That’s a comfort. Now spill it. How do you know the sexiest football star on the
planet and what did he want?”

  “Everyone in Odessa knows Wyatt Connor, hun. He was born here you know.”

  “So? Me too, but he sure as heck didn’t come here to see me. And don’t tell me he was placing a custom order.”

  “I knew him from school,” I say noncommittally.

  “There’s a news flash,” Hannah teases. “C’mon, I know that’s not the reason.”

  “Oh, Hannah; like he said, its private. It’s about something that happened way back when, and I can’t tell you because... well, because I don’t know how it’s going to turn out just yet. I’d rather not talk about it until it’s sorted. Can y’all hold out a little longer? At least until we get this dang order done?”

  Hannah looks to the ceiling. “Lord, give me patience.”

  “Look, it’s almost closing time. I can finish the arrangements myself, you should go home. If you could just sweep up and take out the trash on your way out?”

  “Alright, alright. I suppose I can defer my expiring at least one more day. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  “Positive. Now scoot.”

  With some reluctance, my faithful assistant does as I ask and says goodnight. I let out a sigh of relief and exasperation. I am soooo looking forward to going home to an empty house tonight what with Grace over at her friends. My brain needs a break, and I feel tired right down to my toenails. I’m not a drinker, but I keep a bottle of fine Tennessee sipping whiskey in my liquor cabinet – for when company comes, I tell myself – and it’s calling my name right now. It’s the perfect liquid in which to drown my crazy thoughts, and the numbing aftereffect will be more than welcome.

  The line of waiting centerpieces gradually dwindles until there’s only one more to go. I have almost zero sensation in my fingertips as I jam the last fern frond into the center of the arrangement and tie the bow. It’s a bit lopsided but screw it. No one will notice, and I’m too tired to care. I place all the remaining containers into the cooler to keep until pickup tomorrow.

  I wash my numbed hands and grab my jacket and handbag. I arm the electronic lock for the front door and no sooner turn to exit out the back way when the shop phone rings. Dang it. It’s a few minutes past five, and I really shouldn’t answer it, but I’ve never been one to turn away business. And now is not the time to start when I might need every penny to muster up a legal defense.

  Please, Lord, don’t let it come to that.

  I snatch the receiver from its cradle. “Yellow Rose, how may I help you?”

  “Deanna, it’s Wyatt. Don’t hang up.”

  I start to feel a little dizzy. Crap! So close to a clean getaway. I should have let it ring and go to voicemail, but I would be lying to myself if I said the sound of his voice didn’t turn my knees to jelly. Where is he calling from? He should be halfway to New York by now.

  “The shop is closed; I was just leaving.”

  “I’m glad I caught you, then. I don’t have your cell number,” he explains.

  “You never asked for it,” I say, sounding haughtier than I’d intended.

  Wyatt draws in a long breath, as though I’m testing his patience. “Listen, I re-booked my flight for tomorrow morning. I think it’s clear that we need to discuss this issue further, wouldn’t you say?”

  “This… issue? You mean our daughter?” Now she’s an issue? Panic tingles at the base of my spine. Maybe he really is going to seek legal action and try to take Grace away from me.

  No way in hell is that going to happen.

  “Yes. Grace, you, me, all of it. Calmly and rationally. For her sake as well as ours. Can you see me tonight?”

  I bite my lip as I consider my answer. I could say no, of course. But I can’t risk being difficult and give him more reason to go to court. It’s the last thing I want. Deep down I can’t believe it’s what he would want, either.

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m real tired,” I reply. “I’m heading on home. If you want to meet me there, we can talk in private. Grace is at a sleepover.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, the address is—”

  “I know the way. How could I forget the place I first kissed the prettiest girl in Odessa?”

  A tiny spark of hope lights my tired brain. Maybe we can work this out after all. Maybe we can work, Wyatt, Grace and me.

  “Second prettiest,” I say, a tiny smile crossing my lips. “Our daughter has that title now.”

  Chapter Ten

  Deanna

  JUST LIKE OLD TIMES

  “Come in,” I say, stepping aside to let Wyatt enter.

  True to his word, it’s barely twenty minutes since we spoke on the phone, and I’ve only just arrived home minutes ago myself. I would rather have had time for a shower and change of clothes, but there he is, standing on my front porch just like he did on our first date. It feels both ages ago and yesterday at the same time.

  However, he’s no longer the lanky, nervous boy waiting for permission to cross the threshold. He’s all man now, experienced, confident; larger than life with a body honed to perfection by years of physical training. With a flush of self-consciousness, I wonder what he thinks of me and my physical appearance. I haven’t changed much, maybe a few extra pounds since high school. Having children will do that to you. But I don’t frequent the gym. I’m just off work and probably look a fright with bags under my eyes and my hair all mussed. I didn’t even get time to walk past a mirror.

  “Thank you,” he says, taking a step forward and glancing around the room. “Nice. I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  “Oh, now there’s an original line,” I tease, closing the door and sealing the two of us inside. Alone. Shielded from the world. “You have an eye for interior design now, do you?”

  “Nope. If it weren’t for the decorator I hired, I’d probably still have tin foil on my windows. I’ve just always liked this house. You’ve done it justice without going over the top.”

  “Well, I’m glad you feel at home. Get you a drink?”

  “If you’re having one.”

  “After the day I’ve had, I won’t be stopping at one, I’m afraid.”

  “If I had something to do with that, I’m sorry,” he says, a little sheepishly.

  “It wasn’t just you. I had a giant order to fill, and I think I’ll be seeing Cymbidiums in my sleep for the next month.”

  “Cymbid-what?”

  I chuckle as I walk over to the liquor cabinet. “A special type of orchid.” I fill two tumblers, mourning the rapid depletion of my secret stash of JD and motion with my chin toward the living room. “Shall we?”

  He takes his glass from me and our fingers brush, sending an unbidden tingle up my arm.

  “Sounds good,” he says but doesn’t move. For a protracted moment, his eyes lock with mine, and if I don’t sit down in the next minute, I may get lost in their ultra-blue depths. “You look wonderful, by the way. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  He’s got to be kidding. Wonderful? I’m the farthest thing from wonderful right now but bless his heart for saying so. I tilt my head in silent acknowledgment and force my feet in the direction of the living room. He opts for the sofa, and I purposely sit on the loveseat opposite. My nerves are jumping at where he’s going with this conversation, so I reach over to switch on the radio. Soft notes from a retro-pop station I like float into the room. I take a liberal sip from my glass, letting the liquid courage burn my throat with blessed fire. I’m going to need it.

  Wyatt does the same, his tongue reaching seductively out to lick the fine-tasting residue from his lips. “I’ve done a lot of thinking since this afternoon,” he begins.

  I can barely think at all, suddenly hypnotized by the memory of kissing those lips.

  “Before you say anything,” I blurt out. “Tell me one thing. Are you married?” I haven’t eaten since lunch, and the liquid courage is kicking in fast

  He looks taken aback at my pointed query. “Hell,
no. Are you?”

  I take another hit of JD. “No. I told you I never married.”

  “You told me there wasn’t anyone else in the picture, not that you never got hitched. Any special reason you’re asking?”

  “Because I need to know right now... are you planning to file for custody of Grace?”

  Wyatt’s brow creases in confusion. “Custody? Oh hellfire, Deanna, is that what you think this is about?”

  I divert my gaze to the carpet, unable to weather his look of disdain. “You’re not the only one who’s done some thinking.”

  He sets his glass down with an audible clunk. “The answer’s no. That’s the last thing on my mind. Let’s get that straight right now.”

  I feel chastised for asking, but I needed to know. “Okay.”

  “What I came here to say is that I respect your decisions. You’re Grace’s mother, and there’s no one better qualified to act in her best interest.”

  “Okay,” I say again, gripping my glass with white knuckles. Fine. He must want some kind of visitation arrangement?

  “We can’t change the past. But we can change the future. For Grace. For you and me too, if we have a mind to.”

  My head pops up at this comment. “What do you mean?”

  Wyatt sighs and runs a hand through his tousled hair. Yup, a few silver highlights are glistening in it.

  “Deanna,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks at me with a gaze so intense my heart nearly stops. He gets to his feet and holds out his hand. “This isn’t a boxing match. Can y’all at least sit with me, please?”

  Before I know it, my palm slips into his outstretched one, and I’m sinking into the cushions next to him. He strokes the back of my hand with his thumb.

  “Is this okay?” he asks.

  I nod silently. At this moment, nothing feels more okay than being close to him. How I wish things could have been different all these years. So much wasted time. I want to know what kind of future he might mean.