by Claire Adams
The time flew by with our decorating project, and before I knew it, it was time to head over to Dad’s. I still had to pick up the chicken and sides. Usually, I cooked the meal, but tonight we were celebrating. I splurged and went all out with all the decadent of potato salad, macaroni salad, rolls and my favorite garlic whipped potatoes. To make it a little healthy, I grabbed some fresh veggies from a local produce stand.
“Help me set the table, please. Grandpa and Daddy will probably be here any minute.”
I heard the front door and felt butterflies whiz around my stomach. I prayed Dad and Milo had gotten along and there was nothing weird. Yesterday had felt very tense when they were together.
Realizing it was both of them, I was a little surprised. I heard them chatting as they walked through the living room and braced myself for whatever was to come.
“Hey,” Milo greeted us.
“Daddy!” Ainsley said, throwing herself at him.
He hugged her and then she hugged Grandpa. That was a relief. I wasn’t sure how my dad would handle being thrown over for a younger man.
“It certainly smells good in here!” my dad exclaimed.
“Fried chicken, just like you wanted, Papa!”
“Good. I bet your daddy here is starving. I made him run a lot today,” he winked.
Milo groaned and nodded his head. “Too much.”
“I hope you guys are hungry because we got a lot of food. I figured if we were going to splurge on fried chicken, we would go all out. Today only!”
“I’m down for that,” Milo answered.
We all sat down and heaped our plates full of food. Of course, the steamed veggies were passed over, but I insisted everyone have a little.
I didn’t have to worry about the dinner atmosphere being tense at all. Dad and Milo carried on a running conversation about football. It was all about the other teams, who they were playing next, outstanding players and on and on.
“Can I go play outside with Bart?” Ainsley asked.
“Take one more bite of potatoes and then you can go,” I told her.
“Are we boring you, pumpkin?” my dad asked.
I wanted to chime in and declare they were boring me but figured I better not. I didn’t want to risk upsetting the easygoing mood they were both in.
“What about you?” Milo asked.
I shrugged, “I’m fine.”
The way he was looking at me made me feel very not fine. My mind drifted back to last night and this morning in the kitchen. I knew we were pretending nothing happened in front of my dad. I hadn’t had to spell it out. It was just understood.
“Sorry,” my dad said sheepishly. “I’m still riding the high from yesterday. I’ve been fielding calls from the press all day. Milo here has been asked to give a couple interviews. So far, he is turning them all down.”
Milo shook his head. “I hate talking to the media. I always feel like I’m going to say something wrong that will erupt into some controversy. I’m positive my words will be twisted and no matter what I say it will be taken out of context and manipulated to sell a story. Not interested.”
“Probably a good idea right now,” my dad said, looking out the sliding glass doors that faced the backyard where Ainsley was playing.
“Exactly. If I get nervous and her name slips out, or they ask me about my personal life and I inadvertently say something, I—” he stopped talking and shook his head.
“Good plan. Don’t talk to anyone. I don’t want Ainsley to be scrutinized by the press. You two may be the big bad football guys, but if they mess with my child, I will make them very sorry,” I said vehemently.
I had seen what some of the other players had gone through when their illegitimate and legitimate kids were made public. Some reporters were respectable, others, not so much.
Milo grinned. “That sounds scary.”
“It is. A photographer got too close when Ainsley was just a baby, and it took several of my guys to hold her back,” my dad joked.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I defended myself.
“It was worse,” Dad shot back.
Milo was laughing. “I think I’m going to believe your dad. I’ve seen firsthand how protective you can be. I like it, but I don’t ever want to be the one on the receiving end of that mama bear inside you.”
I blushed, not wanting to talk about the fact he was Ainsley father. It felt very strange to be sitting at my dad’s kitchen table talking about all of that. I knew it was obvious how it happened, but it made me uncomfortable.
“Ready for dessert?” I asked, standing up and putting some distance between them and me.
“Sure,” Milo answered. “What is it?”
“Ice cream.”
“Sounds good, but I need to check my messages first really quick,” my dad said, leaving the room.
Milo grabbed some of the dirty dishes off the table and carried them to the sink.
“So, how was it?” I asked Milo.
“How was what?”
“Dinner. I know you were a little freaked out by it. Feeling okay about it now?”
“I’m good. Really good. It was much easier than I thought it would be,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me.
I jerked away. The look of shock, anger, and hurt on his face made me realize what I had just done.
He looked into my eyes for several long seconds.
“Ah, I get it. You don’t want Daddy to know you’re sleeping with the help, right? You can get down and dirty, as long as your dad doesn’t know?”
I shook my head, feeling horrible for rebuffing him. “No, it isn’t like that.”
“Obviously, it is.”
“No, it isn’t. I just, I don’t know, I just didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. You wanted to get laid. You did, and now you’re over it. That’s cool. It was fun. Let me know when you’re ready for another roll in the hay. I’ll see if I can squeeze you into my busy schedule,” he said, spinning around and leaving the kitchen.
I stood there watching him go, but I didn’t try and stop him. I had acted like a bitch. I knew that. We had played house all night, and it had been fine, but I didn’t want my dad to know. I wasn’t ashamed of Milo; I was ashamed of myself, but he didn’t know that.
Managing to put everything away, I was dishing up the ice cream when Milo breezed through the kitchen and out the back door.
“Hey, Red!” he called out.
Ainsley giggled and ran over towards him. He dropped to his knees and hugged her. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay.”
“Are you coming to our house, Daddy? We put up our Christmas decorations, and it looks real pretty.”
“Not today, kid. I have to go home and get ready for a busy day tomorrow. I’ll see you soon,” he said and came back into the kitchen.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Milo,” I tried to stop him.
“Goodbye, Liza,” he said, without looking at me and headed out of the house.
I felt awful for what I had done. He looked so dejected. I needed to talk to my dad about the situation. I stopped mid-scoop. What was the situation? I didn’t know what Milo and I were doing. We had sex. I didn’t think he was ready to settle down and have any kind of relationship. There was no point in saying anything to my dad if it was going to be a fling here and there. I didn’t have to tell my dad everything, right?
“Ainsley, ice cream is ready!”
I’d worry about all of that later. Milo would calm down and call or text. I didn’t want to bring up the relationship topic and send him into a seizure. I had seen what the idea of family gatherings did to him. He was definitely not ready to talk about the future.
Chapter 28
Milo
This must be what death feels like, I mused, as I stretched out on the bed of my hotel room. I felt like I’d been run over by a semi that reversed and ran me over a second time. I was likely suffering some horrible, fatal
condition and I would never get to play football again or see my daughter.
“Coach,” I croaked out when he answered his phone. “Coach, I can’t make practice. Hell, I don’t know if I can make the game on Sunday.”
“What’s the matter?” he barked.
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m dying a slow, miserable death. Everything hurts.”
He chuckled.
Not exactly the kind of sympathy I had been looking for.
“I’ll send over one of the team doctors to check you out. Try not to die before then,” he joked and hung up.
It wasn’t a laughing matter. This had to be the worst I’d ever felt in my life, and I had played football for a living. I was regularly throttled and slammed into the ground. This was different. This was as if my entire body was rebelling against me and didn’t even want to try and feel better.
I heard the knock on my hotel room door but getting up to answer the door felt like an impossible feat. Whoever was on the other side was persistent though, and I managed to shuffle to the door and open it.
“Mr. Pastek, I’m Dr. Stevens. I hear you’re feeling a little under the weather.”
I looked at him and decided if I’d had the strength, I would have hit him. This wasn’t under the weather. This was death.
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
He nodded and stepped into the room. “Have a seat and let’s check you out.”
I did as he asked, flopping down on the small sofa in the room. I let him do his thing, unable to protest much at all.
“I think you’re a little dehydrated. You may have a virus or it could be the flu. Either way, the key is to stay hydrated. Lots of liquids and rest. I’ll give you a three-day pass to excuse you from practice. You may feel better in a day or two but take it easy. You don’t want a relapse,” he lectured.
I nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”
The doctor left, and I fell back to sleep on the couch. I lacked the energy to go back to the bed, even though it would have been far more comfortable.
It felt like only a few minutes had passed when I heard someone knocking on the door again. I moaned. Couldn’t people just leave me alone and let me die in peace. I ignored the door, but whoever it was, wasn’t leaving.
I stomped to the door and pulled it open. “What?”
I was stunned to see Liza standing there. I saw pity on her face.
“Oh, geez, you idiot. Go to bed. Why didn’t you call for help?”
“How did you know I was sick?”
She put a hand on her hip and looked at me. “How do you think?”
“Coach?”
“Yes, or as I know him, Dad. He told me you didn’t sound too good. I figured you probably picked up what Ainsley had last week. I brought supplies,” she said, holding up two bags full of goods.
I stared at the bags and considered protesting but realized it was futile. I didn’t have the strength and I needed the help.
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem. Come on, go to bed. I’ll get you some juice. Have you eaten today?”
I groaned, not even wanting to think about food. “No.”
“You need to keep your strength up. I brought some soup and crackers.”
I crawled onto the bed, thankful she was there, even if I was still pissed at her. “Thanks.”
I could hear the microwave beeping, and before long, she was sitting beside me on the bed. “Here, drink some of this. The warm broth will help you feel better, trust me.”
Taking it, I sipped it slowly. The heat poured down my throat and began to warm me from the inside out. I had been so cold, and no amount of blankets seemed to help. She took the cup and gave me a bottle of water. I took a few drinks before she took it and set it on the bedside table.
“Close your eyes and get some sleep.”
“Why did you come?”
She rolled her eyes, “I told you.”
“No, you said your dad told you I was sick.” The soup had given me a little more energy because I felt strong enough to argue.
“Don’t be stubborn.”
“I’m not. I don’t want to put you out.”
She heaved a sigh and sat down at the foot of the bed. “I’m not put out. You can ask for help, you know.”
“Not from you. I tried to kiss you, and you looked as if you wanted to die,” I reminded her.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I just kind of freaked. I mean, we were in my dad’s kitchen. And you lecturing me about freaking out is like the pot calling the kettle black.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused.
She laughed. “Really? You had three panic attacks in less than twenty-four hours, all because you heard the F-word or thought about the F-word.”
“What? Fuck? Trust me, that does not give me a panic attack. I can prove it to you right now,” I said, but knew the chances of that actually happening were slim to none. I could probably get it up, but how well I could perform was debatable.
Another eye roll. “Not fuck, Milo. Family.”
“Oh. It isn’t like that. I mean, yeah, it freaks me out a little.”
She nodded her head as if she was agreeing with me about something important. “That’s why I panicked when you tried to kiss me.”
“Because I freaked out over the family thing? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yes, it does. I’m not going to bring you into my life and have you step out whenever you feel like it or whenever you get nervous. You don’t want to settle down, and I get that, but I’m not going to be your on and off girlfriend. I’m not like that. We’re very different in that regard, which isn’t your fault or mine,” she explained.
“You don’t know me as well as you think, Liza,” I murmured. “I’m not my reputation.”
She shrugged a shoulder. Obviously, she didn’t believe me, and I knew I hadn’t given her proof to demonstrate otherwise. I would though, but I couldn’t think about all of that at this moment. My body was rebelling against me and demanding all of my attention.
I was suddenly very dizzy.
“Milo?”
“I need to close my eyes.”
She bounded off the bed and grabbed the small trashcan. “Here, in case you can’t make it to the toilet.”
“No. I’m fine,” I started before it became very clear that I wasn’t.
I rushed to the bathroom and barely made it in time. Once I expunged all the soup and water I had just managed to get down, I made my way back to the bed. Liza was waiting for me with the covers pulled back.
“Get in bed,” she ordered.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, just get in bed. I’ll get you something to drink.”
“No. Nothing else.”
She ignored me as she pulled the blanket up to my waist and tucked me in. She was gone for a few minutes before she came back with a bottle of Pedialyte with a bendy straw sticking out the top.
“Here, drink,” she ordered.
“This for kids,” I protested.
“Oh, shut-up and drink. It’s good for you. You bought it for Ainsley.”
I sipped it. It wasn’t exactly good, but it wasn’t horrible.
“I’m a mess,” I mumbled, too sick to even be embarrassed.
She smiled and took the Pedialyte from me. “I’m sorry. I know how much it sucks to feel miserable.”
I leaned back against the pillow and closed my eyes before a thought popped into my head. “Where’s Ainsley?”
“She’s with my friend, Vanessa. I didn’t want to bring her over here and risk her picking up what you have. Plus, she isn’t exactly conducive to rest. I didn’t think you’d want a wild four-year-old running around your hotel room. Although,” she said, looking around my rather lavish suite, “this isn’t exactly the type of hotel rooms we’re used to. A separate bedroom is a nice bonus.”
I grinned, “Damn straight.”
“Are you going to look
for a more permanent place or are you going to keep wasting your money on what is no doubt a very expensive hotel?”
“I plan on buying or leasing a place. I wanted to wait to see how it went with the team first though. If I sucked, they would cut me, and I would be sent packing. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of finding a place and having to move again.”
She smiled, “Always one foot out the door, right?”
“What?”
“You. You’re afraid of putting down roots. You always have one foot out the door. I guess it goes back to that whole family thing.”
I laid there staring at her. Processing what she had said. “I’m screwed up, aren’t I?”
“Maybe a little, but maybe we all are in a way.”
I sighed and accepted the fact that I would likely never find that perfect life I knew I wanted but was too afraid to try and have.
“Does this mean we can’t mess around anymore?” I grinned, waggling my eyebrows. It was a joke. I knew I looked like hell and the last thing the woman wanted was sex with me.
“Oh, we can definitely mess around. You’re afraid of family and commitment. I get it. I’m okay with that. I’m not looking for anything that serious, but I think we need to keep a fine line right down the middle. I can’t play family when you want, and then you go out on the road banging every whore that gives you an invitation.”
My eyes widened at her very blunt words. “Wow.”
She shrugged. “If that doesn’t work for you, tell me now. We can be friends. I won’t hate you.”
“It works,” I mumbled.
Another wave of nausea swept over my body. My expression must have made it obvious. She pulled back the covers. “Go, before you can’t make it.”
I bolted out of bed and lost the contents of my stomach once again. I was going to die. Death would be welcome at that point.