“I apologize if what I said the other week—”
I shake my head, giving him a small smile. “Seth, you didn’t offend me. A good portion of what you said is true. Or was true. You don’t need to worry about that.”
He’s talking about the day he warned me off of Sinclair.
He seems to breathe a sigh of relief. “Good. The only thing I was worried about was making you feel uncomfortable. I felt like I shot myself in the foot and didn’t even realize what I said to you. To be completely transparent, I just hope you’re walking into this with clear eyes. I like working with you, you’ve become a valued member of my staff already. I’ve seen how great of a job he’s doing this season, but I’ve seen … I’ve seen some things over the years, Frankie. Outside of being my employee, I do care for you as a person. I care that the little boy you’re going to have gets the best treatment and care. I’ve seen that man wasted out of his mind, accosting people. Strangers. I’ve watched him make an utter fool of himself. Maybe I don’t know Sinclair well anymore, but … just, be careful.”
Those words echo around my heart, puncturing the good graces Sinclair seemed to have worked himself back into. We’ve been so good this past month. It’s almost been like before, back in Florida, but without the sex. Our chemistry is off the charts; there are endless topics for us to talk about. He’s been so good in helping get ready for the baby, and we’ve even gone to dinner with his family and friends at Hudson’s. He’s coming to my doctor’s appointment next week, and I’ve been keeping tabs on how hard he’s working within the Pistons organization. Seth knew him before he got sober, so he has preconceived notions. But from everything I’ve been witnessing, Sinclair is a good man. He’s the perfect man to go on this journey of parenthood with.
I feel Sin watching me—all the time. Not in a creepy way, but in the way that he wants to say more than he’s saying. He wants to be more. I know he does; I feel his hesitation whenever we part, like he’s going to come right out with it. Sinclair is being cautious with my heart, and I guess I have to appreciate that with how horribly he lied to me in Fort Myers.
But I’m also not sure, I’m not ready. My heart was broken when he left spring training. It cracked in two when I found out who he truly is, how he deceived me. Now, we’re bringing a child into the equation. Our top priority should be him. What if I give in? What if I allow myself to fall for him again? What if he damages that love even more than he did the first time? I’ll have to see him each day, to break apart in silence as I plan my child’s life with his father. I’ll have to watch him move on with someone else.
The thoughts that invade my brain whenever I think about giving Sinclair a second chance are unbearable. So I go on pretending I don’t notice the deep, deep connection that still exists between us.
“So, um, does the whole building know?” I ask, bracing for the answer.
My boss gives me a look that answers my question before he speaks. “It’s pretty much the worst kept secret around here. Everyone wants to know how the two of you, well …”
I blow out a breath. Didn’t I know this wouldn’t stay under wraps forever? What did I think was going to happen when the staff and players began to see Sinclair picking up our son or walking around the park with him?
“Will this affect my job?” I say it weakly.
It’s what I’ve been thinking about since the moment I got here.
Seth shakes his head adamantly. “No. You’ve more than proven how incredible you are at your job. If anyone tries to touch your position, I’ll whoop their ass myself. But technically or legally speaking, there is little anyone could do. There is no evidence of nepotism, no one knows what went on before you came to Packton. And everyone is mostly too chickenshit to ask. The Callahans are an intimidating bunch. I don’t think you’ll have many issues.”
At least that gives me a sense of relief. One less thing I have to worry about.
As for the other million, they’re still floating around, poisoning my brain.
30
Sinclair
“You decided you wanted to do the baby shopping, and I got roped into this how?”
My brother whines as we pass a section of frilly, pink velvet curtains. The cart I’m pushing is full of blankets, pacifiers, a diaper pail, sheets, something called a Boppy pillow, and a ton of things relating to Frankie’s breast pump that looks like alien machinery.
“Hannah still wanted to come, and then she insisted that this be a double date. So now even your wife, the nicest one of this bunch, is trying to meddle in my relationship.” I say it snarkily, but I couldn’t be in a better mood today.
Everything we’ve picked out is just so cute. I never thought I’d be this guy, the one trailing after his woman like a puppy with its tail between its legs, getting excited about hooded bath towels that look like alligators and wind-up toys that sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” But here I am. Who would have thought the guy who only two and a half years ago was downing full vodka bottles on a Friday night would now be here?
Certainly not me. But I’m fucking ecstatic that I am.
“I just tagged along because the woman promised me a huge French dip sandwich after this.” Walker rubs his belly, which is actually an eight-pack. “And because I want to meddle in your relationship.”
“What relationship?” I sigh. “She’ll barely let me come into her house. Yes, I’m granted two lunches a week now, and I got to go to her appointment the other day, but that’s where she draws the line. She still hasn’t given me an answer one way or the other on the birth.”
Seeing my son up on that sonogram screen for the first time was … Jesus, it was everything. I’d been so overwhelmed, so emotional, that I grabbed Frankie’s hand and laced our fingers together. I heard her small intake of breath, but she hadn’t let go. We’d gone through that doctor’s appointment like two partners, bringing their first child into the world together.
“Frankie told me once that she doesn’t believe in soul mates.” Walker’s voice is even, not giving away his mood one way or another.
I cock my head to the side. “She doesn’t?”
My brother shakes his head. “No. She told Clark and I that humans could basically make themselves fall in love with anyone. But it was hard work and choosing to stay with someone that really made a relationship work. That there isn’t one person for everyone, but a drive and a determination to love and respect your partner that keeps couples together in the long run.”
“I can’t say I disagree with her.” It makes sense.
“I do.” Walker nods definitively. “Sure, all relationships or marriages take hard work. They take patience and perseverance. You have to be willing to grit your teeth and bear it through the hard times. But at the end of the day, if you don’t have that spark, that connection, that undying love, you really don’t have anything. I waited years for Hannah. Because I knew, she was it for me. Why do you think that in the span of just weeks, you and Frankie became inseparable? That you were willing to conceal parts of yourself just to be with her? She’s your soul mate.”
He was getting too deep, right here in this store. Yes, I am in love with her. But she needs time. I need time to broach the subject. It has taken me the entire time of her being in Packton to even get to this point, and I am still at arm’s length.
“If she was my soul mate, why would I leave her in Florida? Why wouldn’t she ask me to stay, or ask us to work through the distance? Why would she keep her pregnancy from me? We’re just two people who got hot and heavy too quickly, and then it burned out.”
I say this to get him off my case. But it’s also the thought that’s haunted me this entire time. Why can’t we just be together if it’s that simple? If we are soul mates?
“Does it feel like it’s burned out?” Walker gives me a smug, all-knowing smirk.
I stare at my shoes, knowing that he’s right.
“Where are you with the cart, Sinclair? You’re going to make your pregnant girlfriend carry aro
und this heavy pack-n-play box?” Hannah chides me.
“Hannah!” Frankie coughs on a gasp.
We all know she just used the term girlfriend to stir the pot. I side-eye Walker because clearly, these two had some sort of plan coming into today.
“Come on, babe, let’s go pick up those doll clothes you promised Breanna.” Walker has to all but drag his wife away by the elbow as she protests about still needing to hit the baby boy clothes section.
Frankie smiles shyly, looking at me under her thick eyelashes. “Those two are, um …”
“Yeah, they’re meddlers.” I laugh conspiratorially.
“Sometimes I do wonder what I am to you. Do people think I’m your girlfriend when they see us out? We don’t have rings on. Maybe you could be my gentleman friend. Baby daddy just sounds so, I don’t know, tacky.” She shudders and her curls bounce around the delicate features of her face.
“You’re the mother of my child, which I think is a way more important moniker than girlfriend. Maybe even wife. We’re bringing a life into the world and choosing to do it together. I think that matters a hell of a lot more than some honeymoon stage of a relationship.”
Frankie blinks at me, an unreadable expression passing through her purplish-hazel eyes. “It is, isn’t it?”
“You mean more to me than almost anyone in my life,” I tell her honestly.
Walker got to me with his soul mates conversation, and I’m feeling everything too rawly.
“Sinclair, I …”
Come on, let me see you, I want to say to her. Just give in, be with me. My head and heart scream it, but my lips stay silent.
“Let’s check the rest of this stuff off the list. You’ve been on your feet awhile, and we should get you some lunch.”
I shut down the conversation so she doesn’t have to. Once again, we’re both not brave enough to just come out and admit to our feelings.
An hour later, we sit at Walker’s favorite lunch spot just a town over from Packton.
I’ve spent many an afternoon here, from the time I was just a child to the rare days I was up before four p.m. and not three beers deep already. Before, I spent so much of my life in a haze. Either I was hungover, tipsy, or fucking wasted. It’s strange now, visiting places as a sober man. It feels like I live on an entirely different planet, even though I’ve resided in my hometown nearly my entire life.
Frankie and I sit shoulder to shoulder, across from my brother and his wife. I glance to my left, in my peripheral vision so she doesn’t see me watching her. The mother of my child watches as Walker breaks the paper off of Hannah’s straw and sticks it in her iced tea, then lifts it to her lips. The two of them exchange a sweet smile, and it doesn’t get past me that Frankie is watching them with heart eyes.
“You guys really are perfect.” She sighs in a much more romantic and wistful tone than I’ve ever heard her use before.
Hannah snorts. “If only you saw us elbow deep on bath night, when one of the girls cries they have to poop while slick in soap and water. We’re a total mess then.”
Walker starts to laugh. “Perfection does not exist, believe me. Coming from the family we grew up in, it’s all a farce.”
Frankie’s cheeks being to pink. “Gosh, I used to think the Callahans were this, this royal family. Any kid growing up and loving baseball must have. You were like my Kennedys.”
“Yet you had no idea who I was.” I snort, only half-joking when I say it.
“You know, I think about that sometimes. How did you not know?” Walker seems curious.
“I guess I just never knew anyone other than you, Daniel, Jimmy, and Colleen. I mean, I know there are a ton of Callahans or the extended families working for the organization. But I guess I never really kept tabs on them.”
“What you’re saying is that Sinclair just wasn’t all that important?” Walker smirks, and I throw my wadded-up straw paper at him like we’re seven years old.
He dodges it, the agile motherfucker. But I have to agree with him. “No, what she’s saying is that I was lazy as fuck and never held down a job with the organization.”
“Until now.” Frankie doesn’t even miss a beat and all eyes at the table swing to her. “You’re doing a great job, Sin. Everyone can see it. You’re working damn hard. Don’t downplay that, it pisses me off. Your past doesn’t define you, none of ours do. You didn’t have to try harder, but you did. And that’s worth something. It’s worth a lot.”
My heart swells with pride. Out of anyone in the world, it means the most that she’s proud of me. I’ve never amounted to much of anything, but I’m trying so hard to be a good man for her and our son. The fact that she recognizes it, even though she’s said nothing thus far, is a shock to my system. A really fucking good shock.
“You really do love him.” Walker cocks his head to the side.
Hannah pats his arm admonishingly. “Of course she does. But let’s not meddle too much.”
My sister-in-law gives me a snarky wink, so out of character for her. I feel like I’m in another dimension.
I turn to look at Frankie, who has dipped her to head to study the lemonade in front of her. The thing is, she isn’t freaking out or denying what my brother and his wife just said.
Could it be? Does she love me like I love her?
After an awkward silence, we move on to another topic of conversation. But I sit at that table through lunch and then alone in my house later that night, with only thing echoing in my head.
Francesca might love me. Hope springs desperately eternal, and I know I’m done being a coward. It’s time to lay it all out on the line, to show her how I really feel.
Like she said, trying harder is worth a lot. In this instance, it’s worth everything.
31
Sinclair
When Frankie agreed to come to dinner at my parent’s house, I have to admit I was shocked.
I told them about her a day after the carnival when my father approached me about who I was talking to. He’d seen us, and so had Mom. It had been inevitable; them finding out about the baby, so I just blurted it all out.
They were shocked, to say the least. Neither of them had any idea that Frankie and I were carrying on when I was down in Florida, nor did they know about her promotion. My parents were too far up the food chain to hear about the hiring of a new assistant strength coach, so it was news to them that Frankie was even on the payroll.
And the baby? Shit, they were blindsided. Dad got that tight look on his face, like he was severely constipated or something. Mom teared up, blinking up at the ceiling of their kitchen. She whispered something about not knowing it would happen this way, took a breath, and then looked back at me. She was already over the upset, I could tell, when she came at me with a hug and talk of all things baby registry.
Then she insisted on having Frankie over for dinner. I think Dad just about choked up a canary when she said it. But she is his handler, as much as everyone thinks Daniel Callahan is the big, bad wolf. No, his wife is the one who has him on a leash, though she doesn’t need to advertise it. What she says goes, and Dad knew he had no say in it.
So here we are, Frankie and I in my car, pulling up to my parent’s house. No, house is too small of a word. If I live in a mansion, as most would call it, my parents live in a palace. An estate. A grandiose display of wealth.
“This place is …” The mother of my child can’t even finish that sentence.
“Outrageous.” I snort. “It looks like it should be on the Mariah Carey episode of Cribs.”
The front is a mass of white-washed brick, with masses of white oaks lining the driveway.
“It looks like that pretentious house in the movie Bridesmaids. The one where she rides the donkey to the backyard,” Frankie quips.
I bark out a laugh. “You’re right.”
Once my car is parked and stopped in the circular driveway, I make my way around the hood to help Frankie out of the passenger seat. Her belly is growing by the day, and I hav
e to support her as she gets out of the car.
“You okay?” I help her find her balance and notice her breathing is heavy.
“Fine.” She flashes me a quick smile.
But I watch her as we walk into the house, and she doesn’t seem fine. Her steps are bow-legged, and she’s bracing her back as if it’s killing her. Her breathing is labored, and her whole body seems to grimace when she walks. Maybe that’s just the end of pregnancy; what do I know?
I let us in without knocking, and we’re greeted by my parent’s live-in maid. Yes, they have a live-in maid. It’s obscene and unneeded, but such is the life of rich people. I used to be of that same mindset before I got sober. Throwing money at everything so I wouldn’t have to do a thing myself.
“I mean …” Frankie’s hands gesture around the entryway of my parent’s house, and I nod my head in understanding.
“It’s over the top. Extremely.” I sigh, knowing what Frankie’s impression of my parents must already be.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this big. Ever. My Florida apartment would fit in their coat closet.” She peers into the massive room off the foyer, where my parents’ newest maid is hanging up our jackets.
She marvels at the inside of my parent’s home, decorated in marbles and gold finishes. Ornate pieces of art dot the walls and floors, and the whole place smells like expensive musk that I know my mother personally flies in from London to spray the house with. My parents aren’t bad people, they’ve just been very wealthy for a very long time. We’re all used to a certain lifestyle, one I never questioned until … well, until I met her. Just wait until she sees the gold-tiled swimming pool in the backyard.
“Are they going to hate me?” She turns to me, her gorgeous face full of doubt.
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard this woman be insecure.
I don’t even think. I take her face in my hands and lock our eyes. “Stop. Whatever thoughts are bouncing around in your head, just stop them. They’re going to love you, because you’re you. My dad, he can be a bully. Don’t let him. Mom is a softie, she’ll love you on sight. And you know what? They don’t have a choice. Because you’re a part of my life, always will be now.”
Check Swing (Callahan Family Book 3) Page 14