by Lisa Sommers
“Ten years,” My parents are eight years apart in age so I don’t think she will have much of an issue with it.
“I guess that’s not too bad.”
“No, it’s not too bad,” what else can I tell her? “He’s a smart man. He has a good job. He’s got dark hair . . .”
“Well at least he has dark hair?”
I whip my head up and stare at my mom. She cracks a smile and lays a hand over mine on the table. “You’re smitten with him.”
I look down at our conjoined hands as tears stream down my cheek. “I am,” I choke out.
“Tell me more,” Oh boy. What else can I say?
We hear the creak of the front door and we both look up to see Daddy walking in the house. “How are my girls?”
I don’t waste a single minute as I leap off the chair and into my dad’s arms.
“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?” I look up into his brown eyes. I so cannot tell him. He still looks at me as his little girl.
“Want some cookies, hun?” As always, mom comes to the rescue.
“That’s a silly question. Of course I do.” Daddy rubs his hands up and down my arms before making a beeline for some cookies.
Momma walks over to me and whispers in my ear, “Would you like for me to talk to him?”
Yes, and can you tell him that Cal is a regular church goer as well? I want to say, but I don’t. “No, you need to go to your women’s group. I’ll talk to him.” Momma gives me a big squeeze before grabbing a Tupperware full of cookies. She says goodbye to my dad and pats my shoulder on her way out the door.
“So, what did you and your mom do today?”
“Not much.”
“Baked a lot of cookies, I see.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dad’s casual conversation has me nervous. I need to tell him.
Daddy looks at me with concern. “You okay?”
Before I can even get any word out of my mouth I begin to cry, once again. These damn hormones are killing me. “Here daddy,” I pat the chair next to me. “We need to talk.”
He stops chewing and examines my facial expression. “Okay.”
“I love you, daddy.”
“Mhm,” he knows something is up. He always makes that face whenever I ask for something. I have no idea how to start this conversation so instead, I shove another cookie in my mouth.
“You’re avoiding telling me something,” He’s always been a smart man.
I just need to spit it out. “Daddy, I have something important I need to tell you,” he gives me a sideways glance. “I met a guy in San Diego.”
“Oook,” his tone of voice is definitely not liking where this conversation is going.
“I, uh . . . I mean, we . . .”
“Oh sweetie, did you two have a fight and that’s why you are home for a visit?” Oh how I wish it were that easy.
“Not really, daddy.”
“Ok,” Concern laces my daddy’s face. “Are you okay?”
I nod my head yes because it’s the only thing I can seem to do at the moment.
“How long have you been dating?” Oh, this is so not going to be good.
“Well, not long, I guess.” We never really dated, but I can’t tell him that. “About a month and a half.” Daddy nods his head. “I’m pregnant, daddy.”
Daddy chokes on his chocolate chip cookie and quickly reaches for his cup of milk. “Come again?”
“I’m sorry, daddy.”
“But you’re not married. How did you become pregnant?” Does he really want me to answer that question? “Never mind,” he closes his eyes and shakes his head? “I need to call your brother.”
“Daddy, no! He doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t know?” I have only ever seen my dad raise his voice a couple of times since I’ve known him. This is one of those times.
“No, he doesn’t. I just found out yesterday morning. I haven’t even told Cal yet.” Oh no, no, no. Why did I say his name? I cover my face because I’m sure the only person we both know by the name of Cal is the one in the same.
He looks at me and scrunches his eyebrows. “What did you just say?”
“Daddy, I’m sorry.” I cry.
He begins to pace back and forth through the kitchen all the while rubbing the palm of his hand across the back of his neck.
“Please,” I beg.
“Just give me a couple minutes.” His gruff voice sends chills through my body. “I don’t get how this happened. I mean, come on!” He yells.
“I know. I messed up. I did. I know I did. I’m sorry.” I fold over in my chair and rock back and forth.
I least expect the hand that lays over my back. “Come here,” he reaches for my hand and pulls me up. “We’ll figure this out.” He wraps his arms around me and envelopes me in a big hug.
“Thank you, daddy.”
“Do you have a plan?” I shake my head no.
“Not yet.”
“Ok,” he lets out a deep breath. “You’re my daughter and we’ll figure this out together.” I squeeze him as tight as I possibly can.
“Thank you, daddy.” I weep into his chest.
“When do you plan on telling Cal?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t found the right words yet.”
“What church does he attend?” Oh no. Here we go again.
“He doesn’t, daddy,” I can feel his chest puff out as far as it possibly can before he releases another deep breath. “He’s not a bad guy, Dad.”
He shakes his head. “Oh honey, what was wrong with Bobby?” Not him again.
“Nothing, daddy. I just didn’t have a connection with him.
“And you do with Cal?”
Well, we definitely have a sexual connection, but I can’t very well tell him that. “Yeah, daddy, I do.” It’s not a lie.
He pulls back from our embrace and searches my face for anything that I may possibly be hiding from him. “I believe you.”
Just then we hear a car door.
“Hold on, sweetie. I’m expecting one of the parishioners to stop by and pick something up for the fundraiser.” I take a seat and wait for him to come back.
“Sir, my name is . . .”
“Callihan,” Oh no! “I know who you are.” Why is he here?
“Yes, Sir. Please call me Cal.”
“I don't plan on calling you anything. You are not welcome here.” Oh crap. This is not going to be good.
Cal, just please leave. This is not the time. What am I going to do?
Chapter 19
Cal
I was on my way back to the airport after saying goodbye to Summer when I realized that leaving her was the biggest mistake I have ever made. I will just have to deal with Derek when I get back to San Diego.
I know I was at Summer’s parent’s home earlier today but I was in such a hurry to see her that I didn’t take the time to soak it all in.
I should have brought flowers.
I look around the modest yard and wonder if this is the home that Summer grew up in. There is so much I need to learn about her. I don't even know her favorite color. What's her favorite food? What's her middle name? Does she like animals? I hate cats. I hope she doesn't like cats. Although, I'm sure I could manage to live with one if she does.
I wonder if anyone is home. I don't see any cars in the driveway. Maybe it's in the garage.
The walk up the long paved sidewalk seems to take forever. I nearly trip on the crack when I hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. I give myself whiplash as I turn around to see if it’s Summer. I have no idea what her parents look like so I'd have no clue if it were one of them.
The car slowly passes, but all eyes are on me as they make their way further down the street.
I turn back around and continue my way to the front door.
Just as I approach, the first of three steps to the porch I hear a dog bark. Do they have dogs? I don’t remember one from earlier. Does she like dogs? I hear the barking dog once more, but it'
s not coming from inside the house. I look around and notice it's coming from across the street.
Suddenly, I hear a creak and the sound of a door opening. I look up and see a man standing in the doorway. I’m startled by his presence. I stand for a moment without moving because his glare is putting my ego in place even without saying a word.
The man, Summer’s father, I presume, puts his arms up and hastily crosses them over his chest. He doesn't look happy. It's clear he must know who I am.
I need to say something. “Sir, my name is,”
“Callihan,” he cuts me off. “I know who you are.”
Oh this isn't good. If he knows my name, then Summer must have filled him in on what a fucking jerk I am. Although, I’m sure he probably just recognizes me from being the Team Manager of the San Diego Sun Devils. His son does play for me after all. “Yes, Sir. Please call me Cal.” I say as I reach my arm out to shake his hand. My attempt to play nice does not appear to be going very well. Not only does he not accept my hand, he refuses to release his tight grip on his forearms. It's so bad that his knuckles are turning white.
“I don't plan on calling you anything. You are not welcome here.”
Yep, it's as bad as it seems. I drop my arms to my side and rub my sweaty palms over the fabric of my jeans. “Sir, please . . .”
“I said, you are not welcome here.” Wow, what the hell did she say to him?
“Is she here?” I need to see her.
“Don’t you think you have done enough damage?”
“Can I please just have a few minutes with your daughter?”
“Listen young man. I don’t know what kind of guy you think you are, but people that do not belong to a religious denomination are not the kind of guys I want snooping around my daughters.”
“Umm,” I’m speechless.
“You don’t deserve to be the father of my grandchild.”
I raise my hands up in the air. “Woah, wait. What?” He clearly has me confused with someone else.
“Daddy!” Suddenly, Summer appears behind her father with a mortified look on her face.
She looks to be in complete shock as I watch her rest her hands on her belly. My gaze trails down to her stomach. Oh my God! Is she . . . “Summer?”
She looks to her father. “Dad, how could you?”
“Summer, stay out of this.” He demands.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” I don’t care who this guy is. I’ll be damned if I let anybody talk to my girl like that.
“Cal,” she scolds me. “Please just leave.” No way in hell am I leaving now.
“Summer, do we need to talk about something?” I have to know if what her father said is true.
“Not now, please.” Is she serious? “I think you should leave.”
“Summer, are you . . .”
“Please leave!” Why is she yelling at me? Mr. Huntington grips one hand on the door handle and his other hand on Summer’s shoulder.
“I think it’s time you leave son.” What the hell is going on here?
“I’m not going anywhere.” I move my gaze to focus solely on Summer’s face. “We need to talk.”
“It’s not yours, Cal.” Her father swings his head to stare at his daughter. “You need to leave, now.”
It’s all coming together now. “This is why you pulled away from me. Isn’t it?” She’s pregnant and it’s not my baby. I’m not sure how to feel about all this news. “You’re right. I need to leave.”
I take one last look at who I thought was it for me. I guess it serves me right. Karma is a bitch and she is getting back at me for being . . . well, for being me.
The flight back to San Diego was the longest flight in history. Well, maybe not technically, but it felt like it.
It’s nearly two in the morning and I foresee no sign of falling asleep. So much has happened over the last twenty-four hours. How do I go from falling in love for the first time in my life to having her in my clutches only to lose her all in the same day?
Un-fucking-believable.
I need a scotch. Fuck, I need the whole damn bottle. I go into the kitchen, grab a bottle of fifteen-year old scotch, a glass and head up to my bedroom.
How did all this happen? Have I really been that horrible to women that this is my payback? I think back to the only woman that has even made a difference to me. Which of course is Summer. Was I really that terrible of a guy that made her run to another man’s bed?
Fuck, we never even dated. Here I was taking advantage of her yet I never made it clear to her that she has been the only one on my mind since the first time we were together.
How does she even know that I am not the father? Was she already pregnant before we hooked up?
I pour myself a second glass of scotch and stretch my legs out on the bed. I can’t help but wish Summer was lying next to me.
It just occurred to me that Summer has never been in my bed. I am such a fucking idiot. I don’t blame her for not wanting to be with me.
I finish this glass and reach for the bottle again. I should stop. I have to be at practice tomorrow, but I don’t particularly care at the moment.
I wonder who the other guy is. Is he even in the picture? Did she tell him and he didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby? I need to find out who he is.
I am about to give up on this bottle of scotch and just go to sleep when I look over and see my phone. The little red light is blinking, indicating that I have a text. Sliding the screen to the left, I see Summer’s name appear on my screen.
“I’m sorry.” Is all it says.
My reply is immediate. “Who is he?”
I see the three little dots trickle back and forth and then it stops. However, nothing comes through.
Fuck! She isn’t going to tell me. If I find out this douchebag does wrong by her he will have to answer to me.
The fury in my veins are running rampant and before I know it, my glass tumbler goes flying across the room.
Damn it! My cleaning service is going to get tired of my ass. They always seem to be cleaning up broken glass in my home.
I could barely get any sleep last night after receiving Summer’s text.
“Coach, you get everything taken care of yesterday?” Shane slaps my back as we walk out onto the field. Nobody knows I went to Atlanta yesterday so I need to come up with a story, quick.
“Yeah man, thanks,” nice cover-up dumbass. “I just had to meet up with a few of the board members. That’s all.”
“Good deal,” he gives me one last pat on the back and then runs out on the field.
As much as I have enjoyed seeing my boys straighten their lives out and settle down, I am just not feeling it today.
“Get the fuck out there Rob,” what the hell is he doing standing around?
“Guys! Just because we made it to the playoffs doesn’t mean we get to start slacking off. Get with the fucking program.” I can hear the guys mumbling something but I don’t give a shit.
Not today.
I need to find out if Derek has spoken to Summer or anyone in his family for that matter. It’s clear his father has not mentioned anything to him yet. Derek would have had a bat to the back of my head already.
“Cal,” speaking of the devil. “Just wanted to say thanks again for spending the weekend with us in Vegas. It meant a lot to Chelsea and I.” Yeah, Papa Huntington definitely hasn’t said anything about me yet.
“You couldn’t have kept me from it. I’m happy for the both of you.” It’s true, I really am happy for them.
“Thanks, man.”
Practice was a shit show. My head just isn’t in the game right now. This whole Summer thing has really gotten to me.
I’ve just walked into Johnny V’s Nightclub and asked to sit in the private room. As much as I can’t stand the guy, this is the one place that I can go to where I don’t get hassled by fans. Besides, Johnny has done nothing but treat me and my team with respect.
“Good evening, Mr. Moon,�
� not to mention that this place does have the prettiest waitresses in town. “What can I get for you this evening?”
That’s a loaded question, for sure. What can’t she get me? “I’ll just take your finest scotch―on the rocks.”
“Yes, sir,” the gorgeous blond turns on her heel and heads for the door. “I’ll be back in a minute with your drink.”
I watch her ass as she retreats and I have to say, it in no way compares to Summer’s.
This whole situation is so fucked up. It’s killing me not knowing who this other guy is. Maybe Sonny knows. I’ll have to somehow ask her about it tomorrow.
Suddenly, the door swings open and I expect to see the waitress with my drink, but it’s not. “Mr. Moon, how are you?” Johnny walks in and makes his way over to me. “Are you being taken care of in here?”
“Yeah, man. Thanks again for opening this room for me. I’m not really in the mood to be around people at the moment.” I watch Johnny shift a few chairs around and it dawns on me that he and Summer were seeing one another. Is he the fucking dude that got her pregnant?
The blood begins to pump wildly through my veins as I watch him move around the room. He needs to fucking leave or I won’t be held accountable for my actions.
“Here you go, Mr. Moon.” Johnny is saved, at the moment, by the waitress entering the room with my drink.
I’m so pissed off right now that I can’t even spit out a fucking, thank you, to the poor girl.
“Johnny,” I stand up and grip the edge of the table to keep me in place. “So what’s up between you and Summer?” I try to ask casually. It has to be him. The way he was hanging all over her a few weeks ago at Shane and Alli’s announcement party.
“Oh you know, a little this and a little bit of that.” He chuckles as he makes his rude ass comment.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I get up in his face.
“Woah, dude. What’s wrong with you? Why are you all up on me?”
“Just answer the goddamned question.”
“What’s it to you who I screw around with?” Is he fucking kidding me?
“You just said the wrong damned thing, buddy.” I pull back my arm and release a jab to his left cheek.