Only One Chance

by Madison, Natasha

  “Loon,” she says and looks back at Candace. “Mama, ook loon.”

  “I see that, princess.” She smiles and then spots the other bags. “I see also that Auntie Layla didn’t listen to Mommy.”

  I laugh at the way she just sang the sentence. “I’ll save the cupcake for after dinner.”

  I take the doll I just bought her out of the bag, and she claps her hands and gives it to Candace. “Mama, open.”

  “Another doll?” Candace says.

  “I’m obviously buying her love. Can you just give me this one thing?” I squeeze her to me. “But enough of that. You’re moving?” I ask her as she sits down next to me and opens the doll for Ari.

  “Ralph said that if he can’t pay me for this house, then we have to move,” she says, handing the doll to Ari. “And when I didn’t accept the money, he put a for sale sign on the lawn.” I throw my head back and laugh. Ralph and Candace met a little more than six months ago. He was a single dad and needed help with his social media. Enter Candace and by the time both of them knew what was happening, they were in love with each other. “Little does he know that I already picked out the perfect house.”

  “Sneaky,” I tell her, and she shrugs.

  “What’s new with you?” I look at her. “How did the date with Miller go?”

  “Grandma Nancy loved him.” I fill her in on the date that he had with Nancy, and her laughter has tears streaming down her face. “Then the next day, I felt sorry for him and went out on a date with him.”

  She stops laughing and looks at me, shock filling her face. “Wait, what?” She looks confused. “You went out on a date?” I nod my head. “With Miller?” Again, I nod my head, not sure I can put it into words. “The guy you loathe?” I roll my eyes at that. “The guy you paid twenty-five thousand for?”

  I throw up my hands. “It was for charity,” I tell her, and she just raises her eyebrows at me. “But yes, I went out on a date with him. I mean, technically. We didn’t really go out.”

  She gasps. “Oh my God, you had sex with him?”

  “Oh my God.” I put my head back. “I did not have sex with him. He picked me up and took me over to his house and made me dinner.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I’m just …” Her hands come up. “I’m …” She puts her hands on her face. “You need to just go slow.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I say, getting up now and bringing the white box to the counter. “I owed him a date, so I went out with him. He made me dinner.”

  “Hold on.” She grabs her phone. “This is the dinner he made for you?” She shows me the picture that I already saw, and I nod. She gets up now and walks over to the fridge. “I need wine.”

  “Yeah, well,” I tell her. “I also let him take me out for ice cream,” I tell her, hoping she’ll let it go, but she doesn’t. “It’s like a miracle.”

  “Well, it ended in a disaster, so it’s safe to say that will never happen again,” I tell her, getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. She picks up her phone and orders pizza and then turns to me while keeping one eye on Ari. “It really isn’t that big of a deal. He came over a couple of days ago to thank me for going out with him. Then asked me to go have ice cream with him.”

  “And …” She waits for me to finish.

  “And nothing.” I tap my fingers on the counter. “We were there a whole five minutes, if not less.” She doesn’t say anything as she waits for me to finish. “Fine,” I snap. “He flirted with girls right in front of me. I got salty, and I asked him to drive me home.”

  “You mean, you got jealous,” she says the same thing that Miller said, but I glare at her.

  “I wasn’t jealous. I was annoyed that he blatantly flirted with other women in front of me. Who does that? It’s disrespectful. I was right there. He came over to my house to take me out. I didn’t call him to beg him to take me out; he showed up out of the blue. After I ignored his texts all day.” The pitch of my voice rises, and I’m suddenly angry. “Google even told him not to call me but Mr. I Go By My Own Rules decided to show up at my door.” She doesn’t say anything, which frustrates me even further. “What?” I snap at her. “What are you thinking?”

  “You aren’t going to like what I have to say,” she says, and I fold my hands over my chest. “Could it be that you got upset because you like him?” I open my mouth to scream, but she puts her hand up. “He should not have flirted with other women in front of you. That was disrespectful but think about it. If you didn’t care about him, would you really care?”

  I stare at her, opening my mouth and closing it and then opening it again. “If you went out with Ralph and he flirted with other women, would you care?”

  “I’d cut his balls off.” I point at her.

  “Okay, fine. If you went out with Brian, and he flirted with other women, would you care?”

  I glare at her. “No, I would give him a high-five.”

  “Which means …” She looks at me, and all I can do is glare at her.

  “I don’t like him,” I tell her, and she rolls her lips. “Fuck,” I say, slapping my palm to my forehead. “I might like him.”

  Chapter 18

  Miller

  She hasn’t answered one of my texts in three days. Three long fucking days. My head is spinning, and I literally have no idea what to do. I text her before I left for Denver, and she never answered me.

  I arrive at the arena at the scheduled time for our Saturday game. My body’s still sore from the grueling physical game we played last night. We flew back home right after the game, and I had no time to do anything but sleep. Walking into the locker room carrying a cup of coffee, I’m one of the last to arrive. “Gentlemen,” I say. The rookies nod at me, some in their workout clothes already. I sit in my spot next to Manning, who is undressing. “My ass is tired,” I say, putting my coffee next to me and just taking a second to breathe.

  “If you think your ass is tired now,” Manning says, “wait until next week when we play four games in six days.” Thinking about next week makes me groan. We leave tomorrow night and are away the whole week.

  “I hate those long stretches,” Ralph says, taking a drink of his protein shake. “I can do two days, but a whole seven?” He shakes his head. “Get ready for cranky Ralph.”

  I laugh at him as I shrug off my jacket. “When don’t we have cranky Ralph?” Manning laughs with me. “Him, I get,” I say, pointing my thumb at Manning. “With his wife and all.”

  “Can we not talk about her,” he says. Sitting down, he puts a baseball hat on his head. I look around and see that the rookies have gone and are no doubt in the gym working on their cardio. “I showed up at home last night, and she greeted me naked.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know why that would make you cranky.”

  “She had hickeys on her tits,” he says, and my mouth hangs open. “Yeah. I don’t even care, to be honest. I haven’t felt anything for her in years, and I just want fucking out.”

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Ralph says. “At some point, you are just going to have to leave her and brace yourself for the worst.”

  “I don’t want to put my son through that.” He shakes his head. “Worst case, I have another four years, and then I can let him decide.” He gets up. “Time to get my head into the game.” He walks out of the room.

  “Time to get my legs working,” Ralph says. “Show off for my girls.” He winks at me.

  “Is Candace coming tonight?” I ask, and he nods, his whole face lighting up with a smile. I smile back at him, and my chest suddenly hurts. I want that, I think to myself. I take out my phone when Ralph walks out and send her a text.

  Me: This is officially the third day with no response. According to Google, I should wait at least five days before I message you again, or I’m going to look desperate. I guess it’s too late for that. Although, according to another Google article, after twenty-four hours, I should give up. LOL. I hope you are doing well. I was wondering if you would lik
e to go and get coffee tomorrow? I would ask you to have lunch with me, but something tells me that you would say no to that. But coffee is safe, or is it?

  I press send and then look at how long the message is. It’s been three days with no response, and I’m getting a bit scared I said or did something to offend her. I mean, I probably did say something, but in my defense, I was probably nervous. I replay the night over and over in my head to see if I can pinpoint exactly what it was that would make her not answer. Getting to know her is even better than I thought it would be. I knew she was hot, but she’s funny as hell, and she just has a way about her that makes you want to sit down and talk to her about literally anything from the day’s events in the media to paint drying on a wall.

  As I’m holding the phone in my hand, my leg starts to move up and down with the nervous energy flowing through me again. My fingers start to move before I even know what is happening.

  Me: Wow, I didn’t know it would be that long. But seriously, gorgeous, let me bring you coffee, or you can bring me coffee. Whatever you want.

  I put the phone down and start getting ready for the game. Slipping into my workout clothes, I ride the bike for an hour to warm up my legs. After a light dinner, I walk back to the locker room and finish getting ready. We skate on the ice, and the fans are cheering already. Ralph stands by the glass looking at Ari and Candace, and right behind him is the woman who has been driving me mad. She’s looking more beautiful than ever.

  I skate next to him and wave at Ari and then point at Layla. “You!” I shout at her, and she just looks at me. “Answer your goddamn texts, woman.” Ralph shakes his head while Candace and Layla just laugh.

  Her eyes go light, and she flips me the bird. “She likes me,” I say, nodding my head. I blow her a kiss, and she ducks to get out of the way. I wait for her to stand and look at me. “Answer your text.” Then it finally dawns on me. “Oh my God, did you block me?” I ask her through the glass and hear Manning now laughing behind me.

  “Layla, do us all a favor,” he says to her. “Answer his text before he cries.”

  “Fuck you,” I tell him, then turn back to Layla. “I’m picking you up tomorrow at ten.”

  “I can’t hear you?” she jokes, and finally Candace answers.

  “She’ll be ready.” I put my hands in the air as if I just scored an overtime goal.

  “See you later, gorgeous,” I say, skating away before she says something to me.

  The game is brutal, but we end up winning, surprising even us. When I skate off the ice, I give my stick to the equipment guy and then walk into the locker room. The away bags are already set up for us to pack our stuff. It’s only after I get out of the shower do I walk over and grab my phone. I usually have a shit ton of notifications after the game with people tagging me in pictures. I scroll down until I see a text alert.

  Layla: There is a little café I know of. I’ll be there until ten thirty.

  She follows it with the address of the coffee shop. I smile so big, and I don’t bother answering her back in case she decides to leave. I walk out of the arena, saying bye to the guys, and go straight home. Usually, I head to the bar with some of the boys, but I’ve stopped doing that lately. I get home and walk to the kitchen, then heat some food and go straight to bed after eating.

  The next day, I get to the coffee shop at nine forty-five. Pulling open the door, I step in, sliding my glasses off and hanging them on my shirt. I look around the café at the three walls painted black and a wall with exposed brick. Black tables are all around the room with a brown couch in the corner. The coffee bar is along the brick wall, and I smile at the guy behind the counter. I order two lattes, and he tells me to grab a seat, and he’ll bring them to me. I look over and see that they have fresh muffins and croissants. I order two of each and then walk to the open door in the back of the room. It leads to a back patio filled with the same black tables and a huge white awning over it. I grab a table in the corner and text her that I’m already here.

  I watch the door the whole time, and I start to panic when it’s past ten o’clock. I’m about to call her when I see her walking into the back. Her eyes roam the room until she spots me. I get a chance to look at her. She is wearing dark blue jeans with a beige sweater tucked into the front and a leather jacket that hangs open. She looks so fucking sexy. She walks over as soon as she sees me, and I get up. “Morning, gorgeous,” I say, shocking her when I lean down and kiss her cheek.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she says. I grab the empty chair and hold it for her to sit down in. “Thank you.”

  “I ordered you a latte,” I tell her. “But I think it’s cold.”

  “That’s okay,” she says. I sit next to her, and I’m so happy that she came. She picks up a cup and takes a sip. “It’s still warm.”

  “I can get you another one,” I say, and she just shakes her head. “It’s fine.”

  “How have you been?” I ask awkwardly, and she laughs.

  “This is awkward, right?” she says, and I want to take her hand in mine. “It’s weird.”

  “It’s because you didn’t answer my text.” She laughs.

  “Which one?” she answers, and it’s my turn to laugh now.

  “I wouldn’t have had to send you all those texts if you’d just answered me back,” I tell her.

  “You are persistent. I will give you that,” she says. “But honestly, you didn’t need to be.” She takes another sip of her coffee and tucks her hair behind her ear.

  “Look, if I did or said anything that offended you …” I start, and I’m suddenly nervous that she is going to get up and leave. “I’m sorry.”

  She doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me, and I wish I knew how to read her. “Thank you,” she says softly, “for not meaning to offend me.”

  “I seriously missed talking to you,” I tell her. “Even though we never really talked before, I missed joking with you and asking you questions.”

  “That’s a really nice thing to say.” She looks down.

  “I have to be somewhere in twenty minutes,” I tell her when I see it’s almost ten twenty. “Will you come with me?”

  “So you double-booked yourself?” She laughs. “I’m shocked.”

  “Will you come with me?” I ask her, not willing to tell her that this is something I do once a month.

  “I don’t know,” she answers, not sure.

  Standing, I grab her hand in mine. “I promise you are going to love it.”

  She rolls her eyes, and I laugh, relieving the tightness in my chest. “Fine, let’s go.”

  We walk out, and I put my glasses on and open the car door for her. “I can take my car,” she says, stopping.

  “So you can take off on me?” I joke. “Not a chance.”

  With a laugh, she gets in the car. I close the door after her and get into the car and make my way over to the standing engagement I have. We park in the parking lot, and when we get out, she looks over at me. “Are we here to get your monthly STI check?” She looks at the hospital building. I clap my hands together and laugh.

  “That was a good one,” I say, “and if you are keeping track, I had mine two months ago, and I’m clean.”

  “A lot can change in two months.” She looks over at me as we walk into the hospital lobby and head straight to the elevator. I laugh and press the button for the fourth floor. “Seriously, though,” she says quietly, “what are we doing here?” The elevator doors open, and I put out my hand so she can walk, and she stops in the middle of the room. “What?” she asks, looking around, and I’m about to tell her when the doctor comes toward us.

  “There you are,” he says to me. “We are all set up.”

  “Rudy,” I say. “This is Layla. Layla, this is Dr. Rudy. He runs the children’s oncology wing.” I see her mouth hang open, and I don’t think she is ready for the rest. I don’t think she expected the rest.

  Rudy puts his hand out to shake Layla’s hand, and she smiles at him. “It’s good to
meet you,” Rudy says. “Let’s get story time with Miller started, shall we?”

  Chapter 19

  Layla

  My head is swimming, and I look around, not sure I heard the words properly. “Miller,” I say his name softly as we are ushered to the room. His hand rests at my back as he talks to Dr. Rudy.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, and he smiles at me, stopping to look at me.

  “On the first Sunday of the month, I read to the kids,” he tells me like it’s no big deal, and I swear to God this man gives me whiplash. “It’s something I’ve been doing for the past four or five years.”

  I don’t get a chance to ask him another question because we stop at a room, and I hear Dr. Rudy talk. “Okay, everybody.” He claps his hands. “He’s finally here.” I stand with him at the doorway as the kids cheer and clap. He raises his hand to say hello to everyone. I stay at the door and watch him walk in. He high-fives some of the kids that he knows, calling them by their first name. I see a couple of the dads raise their hands to say hello to him.

  He finally makes it to the chair set up at the back of the room, facing out to everyone. He is dressed in jeans and a Dallas shirt with a green bomber jacket on. He sits in the chair, taking off and hanging his glasses on his shirt. “Hello, boys and girls,” he says with a smile as the kids greet him back. “I’m so happy to be back again.” He smiles at them. “I see some old faces.” He makes eye contact with the kids he must know. “And then I see some new kids who I hope to get to know.” He points at a couple of them, and some of them wave enthusiastically.

  They are all sitting on the floor in a circle, their parents are scattered around the room, and I’m blown away that not one cell phone is out and no one is asking him for a selfie. No one is filming; it’s just a man reading to a group of sick kids.