The Pickup (Imperfect Love Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “Now that paternity has been established, you can have your attorney draw up papers to relinquish your parental rights.” Nick flinches slightly, almost like the words I just said pained him, but I ignore it. “Once you do, have them sent to my attorney. I gave Reed’s and my information to your attorney the other day at the office when I brought Reed in to be swabbed. There’s no reason for you to come back over here ever again.”

  “I can give you money…” he begins to say, but I put my hand up to stop him.

  “We already had this conversation. I don’t want or need your money. Does it look like I’m living on the streets?” I glance around my home to make my point. We’re standing in a multi-million dollar brownstone for God’s sake, in one of the wealthiest areas in New York. “I can afford my son just fine.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t.” His jaw clenches. “I just—I’m just trying to do the right thing here.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about doing the right thing. I walked away that morning without telling you anything about me or getting your information. You didn’t have a say in any of this, and I’m not going to force anything on you.”

  He sighs in frustration and then says, “If it’s not money you want, then what is it?” He runs his fingers through his already messy hair, messing it up some more. “Damn it, Liv. I don’t know what you want from me.” His eyes are pleading with me to give him the right answer, but I can’t do that because what I want isn’t possible.

  What I want to tell him is that I want to give Reed a family. One with a mom and a dad who love him and love each other. I want to be able to tell my son he was conceived out of love and not from a half-drunken one-night stand. I want to beg him to change his mind about wanting his son. But I don’t tell him any of that. Instead, I say, “I don’t want anything from you. Now if there’s nothing else, I’m stinky and sweaty”—I glance down—“and I could really use a shower before Reed wakes up. I think it’s best you go.” I shrug my shoulders in total nonchalance when really I feel the complete opposite. He has me riled up and wanting to punch him while also wanting to crawl into my bed and ugly cry.

  “Okay.” He nods slowly, his eyes darting from Reed to me. He turns and walks to the door. He opens it then twists back around like he wants to say something. And a small part of me—the part that stupidly still believes in fairytales—holds on to the hope that maybe he has changed his mind. While another part of me considers, even for a brief moment, blurting out everything I just thought and seeing where the chips fall. But the biggest part of me wants to push him out and lock the door behind him so he can’t hurt me any more than he already has.

  Okay…and maybe, just maybe, there’s a small part that wants to pull him back in because holy shit! The man is swoon-worthy…Nope! Not going there…he’s engaged and doesn’t want his kid. He’s off limits!

  However, I neither push or pull him anywhere. Instead, I stand frozen in place, waiting to see what he does. His mouth opens and closes like he’s at war with himself, and for a second I think he’s actually going to say something, but he doesn’t. He lifts his hand, and with a sad smile, gives me a small five-finger wave before walking out the door.

  I don’t realize until the door is shut that I wasn’t breathing, and I let out a much-needed breath, the tears releasing I didn’t know I was holding in. They race down my cheeks one after the next until Giselle comes out and finds me. She holds me to her chest as I let out every emotion I have had locked up inside of me.

  As I come to accept every dream I ever had as a child, and even as an adult, of finding the kind of love my parents had—the kind of love I long for—won’t be coming true.

  Ten

  Nick

  Well, that sure as shit didn’t go as planned…Then again, what the hell did I think would happen when I showed up at Olivia’s home unannounced? It’s not as if I exactly had a plan. I went there with the intention of discussing me being Reed’s dad, but then I took one look at him and choked. And Instead of doing what I set out to do, I once again, like an idiot, offered Olivia money. I knew in the back of my mind she wouldn’t accept it, but I had to try. Because for the first time in my life I’m at a complete and total loss as to what somebody wants from me. I have no clue how to make any of this right. She’s just so…mad. It’s obvious in the way she looks at our son and talks about him, she loves and wants him. But then why is she being so hostile toward me? God forbid she just tell me what the fuck she wants from me. And despite her denial, I know damn well she wants something from me…

  Just like she wanted something from me nine months ago…That night I knew exactly what she wanted and gave it to her…but then again that want was mutual…fuck, was it mutual—until she walked away. I guess what has me going crazy is that when she showed up in the locker room, I thought for sure she wanted something from me. Everybody wants something. My dad wants money and respect. My mom wants to be accepted through status. Celeste wants to be financially stable, to feel taken care of while still feeling independent. But Liv’s a whole different story because according to her, she wants nothing. But if that’s true, then why the hell did she seek me out?

  As I walk down the sidewalk away from her home, I think about how angry I made Olivia when I offered her money. I tried to explain I was just trying to do the right thing, but she wasn’t exactly understanding.

  Liv reminds me of a mystery novel. One that keeps you guessing the entire time. The more I read, the more clues she lays down for me to find. But with every clue, I’m left even more confused. At least with a novel, you know when you get to the end, the author will tie all those clues together in a neat package. Everything that was confusing will finally make sense. And, with a novel, if you lack patience you can always flip to the end to see how it all turns out. But with Liv, there’s no end to turn to. I’m trying like hell not to run out of patience, but I’m afraid I may never figure out the mystery that is this woman.

  I stop at the corner and pull the paper out of my pocket, needing to read the paternity results again. Like somewhere on this paper is the answer to all of my problems. I still can’t believe I’m actually a dad. A week ago, I was a football player, a son, a fiancé…Now, I’m a fucking dad. I shake my head in disbelief. What the hell do I even know about being a dad? Giselle wasn’t too far off base with what she said. The results may label me the father, but I haven’t the slightest clue as to what to do with a baby. And then what happens once he’s older? I grew up wishing for a dad who would love and pay attention to me. Wishing for a mom who would put me above herself just once. I grew up spending more time with Ms. Kelley, my nanny, than I did with my own parents. The day Fiona left, she looked at me and said having a baby with me would be a nightmare. A woman who had the shittiest life out of anyone I’ve ever known—raised by a drunken and drugged up mother in the worst part of North Carolina—actually left me because the thought of marrying and having a family with me was so terrible in her eyes.

  I glance up and spot the old movie theater across the street. It reminds me of when I was younger and would ask my dad to take me to see the latest Star Wars film, but he would tell me he was too busy. The only time he would ever say yes to spending any time with me was when I would ask to play catch. I remember throwing the ball and his face lighting up. It was the only time I ever saw him truly get excited. The only time he would praise me. My heart constricts as I think about how good it would make me feel. I would’ve thrown that ball a million times if it meant having his attention. If it meant him telling me I was doing a good job. I didn’t want shit from him. I just wanted my dad.

  My mind goes back to what Fiona said: “You always put your parents first.” She walked away because she needed someone who would put her first. It’s the same thing Celeste is afraid of—not being put first. Is that what Olivia needs? For me to put Reed first?

  I lean against the brick wall, watching a family walk down the street. A flashback surfaces of my mom and me walking hand-i
n-hand through the park. I couldn’t have been more than eight years old. We stopped at the ice cream truck, and she bought us the biggest ice cream cones. We sat on the edge of the sidewalk, talking and laughing, as we ate our cones. I smile, remembering that day like it was yesterday. She may not have ever looked at me the way Olivia looks at Reed, but I would like to believe in her own way my mom does love me. I just think somewhere along the way she got sucked up in the life of the rich and famous. And she was so scared of going back to where she came from, she ran as far as she could in the opposite direction—losing herself along the way.

  A father and son pass by, and the dad grabs him in a chokehold, making the boy laugh. I try to recall even a single memory of my dad and me acting like that, but I can’t. Celeste’s recollection of what I once told her comes to the forefront of my mind: You never felt you were good enough in your parents’ eyes. I don’t want a child to ever experience the heartache I’ve felt over and over again, every time my parents have let me down, or when, in their eyes, I’ve let them down. All I wanted was for my parents to put their wallets and expectations away and love me.

  And yet, here I am with a son of my own, who’s not asking anything from me, and I’m walking away. And why? Because I’m scared of the idea of failing my son? While I’m over here judging my parents, they’re exactly who I’ve become—only worse. I threw money at Fiona, paying for her school and the bills, and justified it as loving her. I’ve seen Olivia three times, and every time I’ve offered her money to make things right. I’ve agreed to a relationship of convenience with Celeste just so neither of us has to deal with any real emotions. Holy shit! I’ve literally become my father. But I can still change this. I can give my son the love and attention without the expectations and strings attached. I can show my parents what it looks like to simply and unconditionally love someone else.

  My feet start moving of their own accord, and before I know it, I’m buzzing the intercom. Giselle—with contempt dripping from every word she speaks—lets me up. And once I’ve taken the elevator up to their floor, I’m knocking on their door.

  Giselle swings the door open, eyeing me up and down with disgust. “Livi is in the shower. Didn’t you do enough damage?”

  “Damage?”

  She holds the door open, and I walk inside.

  “You’re so fucking blind. Livi might be selfless, letting you off the hook, but I’m not her. You come up in here, waving your dollar bills around like it’s going to make up for the fact that you knocked her up and want nothing to do with being a dad. Your money means jack shit to Livi.” I listen to her as she confirms everything going through my head, but also adding to what I was thinking. Olivia does want something from me. She wants the same damn thing I’ve wanted from my parents my entire life.

  “She wants me to be a dad,” I confirm, and Giselle gives me a duh! expression, reminding me of Olivia. Well shit, I can do that. That’s why I came back here. She looks at me like I’m crazy, and I realize I’m grinning. But I can’t help it. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off me. Olivia doesn’t want anything from me except for me to be a dad to our son, and not one like my father is to me, but one that’s hands-on. Reed whines, so we walk over to his bassinet. “Can I hold him?”

  Giselle gives me a hesitant look, but after a few beats, relents. “Fine. Have you ever held a baby before?”

  “No.” The little guy’s cries pick up.

  “Reach down and pick him up, but when you do, make sure you hold his head and neck steady. Newborns don’t have control of their neck muscles yet.”

  Reaching down into the bassinet, I pick him up the way Giselle said to. He’s tiny in my hands, yet solid. Definitely my kid. When I lift him up, I hold the back of his head in one hand—the rest of his tiny body resting on my forearm—and he stops crying for a second, confused.

  Giselle’s phone rings in her pocket, and she pulls it out. “I need to take this. It’s the interview I’ve been waiting for. I’ll be right out there.” She points to the patio. “Be careful with him.” She gives me a pointed look. I hear her answer the phone as she closes the door leading to their outside patio.

  I watch Reed as his eyes work to focus, and once they’re open, I can see the dark green irises that match mine. His lids flutter a few times, his eyes moving all over— not quite sure what he’s looking at—and then he lets out an ear-piercing wail.

  “Oh shit!” I’m not sure what the hell to do. I look over at Giselle, and she’s still talking on the phone. Not wanting to interrupt her interview, I make my way down the hall with the crying baby. “Liv!” I whisper-yell, having no clue which room she’s in. My eyes stay trained on the screaming baby, making sure he doesn’t fall out of my hands.

  Olivia opens the door, and holy shit, she’s a fucking wet dream, standing there in only a small plush towel with her wet hair pulled up in a messy bun, the ends dripping wet. I watch as the droplets run down her neck—that same neck I spent hours sucking and kissing on—over her collarbone, and disappear down into her luscious tits.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She cuts across the hallway and plucks Reed out of my hands. “Who let you in here?” She glares my way while she rocks him gently, his cries lessoning by the second.

  “Giselle let me in. She had to take a call…an interview, I guess, and he started crying.”

  She huffs loudly in frustration, then walks down the hallway toward the kitchen, her ass swaying in the towel as I follow behind her. She stops at the counter and grabs a can of something with one hand. When she reaches for what looks like a bottle, it falls to the ground. She sighs, the baby still crying in her arms. She bends down to pick it up and the bottom of the towel rises, giving me a peek of her ass. Jesus, I’m going to hell…

  “Here! Let me help.” I reach down, needing to focus my attention on something other than her sexy-as-sin body, but she snatches the bottle off the ground before I can grab it. Once she’s standing upright again, I reach for the baby in an attempt to help her.

  “What are you doing?” she snaps.

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “I don’t need your help.” Alrighty then…Olivia finishes making the bottle one-handed then sticks the nipple-looking thing into Reed’s mouth. He immediately stops crying and starts sucking. She carefully wipes the tears from his eyes, gives him a kiss on his forehead, and then looks at me. We stand in the kitchen, staring at each other for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. These awkward moments just might be the death of me. I’ve only known Olivia for a second, but she has got to be the most challenging person I’ve ever met.

  “He has my green eyes,” I say, trying to break the silence. She glares, and I close my mouth. Just as I’m about to say what I really came here for, there’s a knock on the door.

  “Jeez!” she huffs out. “It’s like Grand Central Station over here.” Still holding the baby and the bottle, and still in her towel, she opens the front door.

  And it’s her dad. His gaze moves back and forth between Olivia and me. “Why are you standing in a towel with Nick here?” Olivia’s eyes dart down to her lower half then back up to me, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

  “Oh my God!” She carefully thrusts the baby with his bottle into her dad’s arms before scurrying out of the living room and back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  I chuckle, and her dad hits me with a hard glare. “Why are you here with my daughter while she’s in a towel?”

  “The baby was crying, and she just got out of the shower.”

  He lifts the baby up, burping him like he’s done this a million times. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here.” Reed burps, and Coach lays him back down across his arms, giving him some more of the bottle.

  “I came here to see Reed.” I study Coach for a few moments, comparing him to my father. I would bet my dad never fed or changed me. He probably never even held me. Ms. Kelley was a part of my life from as far back as I can remember. I doubt
either of my parents actually took care of me more than they were required to. Meanwhile, Liv is doing it all on her own here—with the help of her friends and family. Not with the help of her baby’s father.

  “You okay?” Coach asks, concern evident in his eyes. I glance from my son to him, and I know what I need to do. My words aren’t going to make a difference with Liv or her dad. I need to show them through my actions.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re going out for brunch to celebrate a belated Christmas. Would you like to join us?”

  I consider it for a moment, but then Olivia walks back out, dressed and shooting daggers at me, and I figure it would be best not to upset her further.

  “That’s okay. There’s something I need to take care of. I’ll see you tomorrow at practice.” I’m about to walk out the door, but before I do, I stop and lean down and give my son a kiss on his forehead.

  When I get home, I put a call in to my attorney with my request. He says he’ll file the paperwork today, and Olivia should receive the papers in the next two to three days. Next, I call Celeste, not wanting her to hear it from anyone else. When it goes straight to her voicemail, I remember she’s on a plane to Los Angeles.

  I text Killian and ask him to meet me at the baby store, and he agrees. I’m scared as shit at the idea of being someone’s dad, but I’m confident that with time I’ll get the hang of it. Practice makes perfect, right?

  * * *

  I’m pretty sure we purchased every item imaginable at the baby store. Luckily, they deliver, and I won’t have to deal with any of it until tomorrow when it all arrives. I have practice in the morning, so I scheduled it all to arrive in the afternoon. Seeing that it’s almost nine o’clock here, I call Celeste since she more than likely arrived in LA a couple hours ago.

  “Nick,” she answers.

  “How’s it going in LA?”

  “Good. It’s a quick visit for a last minute shoot for my spring line. I’ll be back tomorrow.”