by Iris Parker
Of course, I wasn't exactly paying close attention. The revelation that Ali might have her first crush had hit me hard—it wasn't quite the monumentally life-changing news that Dominick himself had been, but it was certainly enough to distract me from him for a little while.
Jason, at least, seemed relatively harmless. He was a fundamentally good kid, as far as I could tell, already holding a job and maintaining good grades in school. He stayed out of trouble for the most part, with his younger sister Laurie giving their parents more trouble than he ever did.
After the three of us finally came back in, I popped a blueberry bagel into the toaster and then slathered it with cream cheese. Ali happily took her half while I took a bite of mine, and Dominick helped himself to another cup of coffee.
"Would you like one?" I asked Dominick, a bit sheepish that I'd already taken a bite of my bagel. He nodded, and I made another for him. As I gave him his half, I realized belatedly that I had no idea what to do with the fourth and final piece.
See? He doesn't fit into our lives at all. Two was so much easier to split than three, I thought to myself cynically.
That is completely ridiculous. You are being ridiculous, I told myself.
"Can I try some of that?" Ali asked, pointing to Dominick's coffee.
Now who's being ridiculous? She's eleven and she wants coffee! the cynical part of my mind fired back.
Dominick didn't answer immediately, instead looking to me for guidance. I shrugged. Most likely Ali would hate the taste, and forbidding her from trying it would only make it more tempting in the future.
Permission granted, Ali took a sip. Immediately she scrunched up her face and ran over to the sink, spitting it out dramatically. "Yuck!" she exclaimed. "Must be a boy thing."
It was too adorable, and I laughed—in unison with Dominick, much to my chagrin. He flashed me a little smile, and I felt myself blushing a little.
No wonder he's always with models and actresses, I thought. His smile went beyond disarming and straight to irresistible. He was a prime example of manhood and masculinity, at his physical peak. Was it any wonder my body responded all on its own?
That some ancient, primal thoughts might come unbidden, a little voice whispering to me about what a fine specimen he was? It was just survival of the fittest, and man was he fit.
Of course, the joke was on me. No part of my biology was programmed to account for fertility clinics or insemination, no way to explain to my lizard-brain that I'd already reproduced with him thanks to the magic of modern science. No, it simply saw him and…wanted.
Stupid biology, I thought bitterly. A moment later, I looked down, and realized that the reaction had gone beyond simple blushing. I'd almost been able to forget that I was in pajamas around Dominick. But now, my nipples seemed more erect than pencil erasers, and the two hard circular imprints that appeared in the thin cloth were taking it too far.
Much, much too far.
An I-just-want-to-crawl-into-a-hole-and-die-now kind of far.
I crossed my arms over my chest again, panicking a little as I cleared my throat.
"Look at the time!" I said awkwardly. "Thank you for coming, Dominick, it's been nice. But, Ali and I were going to visit my father today, and—"
"Mooooommm!" Ali whined. "We can see Grampa any time!"
"We can't take up all of Mr. Henderson's morning, sweetie. Besides, plans are plans. We told him we'd visit. It was your idea originally, remember."
Ali groaned and rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said in a dramatic, defeated tone.
"Can I give you a goodbye kiss?" Ali asked Dominick, giving me a faintly challenging look. I'd told her that kissing him in the diner might've made him uncomfortable, and apparently her takeaway was ask first instead of don't do it.
Well, I had to pick my battles—and right now, getting Dominick out of the house immediately was priority number one.
"Of course you can, Ali," Dominick replied, leaning forward so Ali wouldn't have to climb any furniture this time. Ali giggled, planting a resounding kiss on his cheek.
"You need to shave, Dom! You're all prickly."
"Oh, I do?" he said, running his palm over the cheek where dark stubble grew.
No, of course he doesn't need to shave! He looks amazing like that, part of me screamed.
And that's why you need to kick him out, dummy, another part of me answered.
Dominick gave Ali a hug before turning to me, nodding courteously and then leaning in close.
For a brief, insane half-second I thought he was going to kiss me on the cheek.
For an even briefer, even more insane half-second, I was disappointed when he didn't.
"Don't hesitate to call me if you guys need anything, okay?" he asked, his voice low and throaty.
Low and throaty, oh come on! I could have kicked myself. The man was whispering, for crying out loud. Since when was whispering 'low and throaty?' You're insane, I told myself.
Not that it helped.
I swallowed hard. Not trusting my voice, I nodded in agreement.
Dominick took a step back from me, a gesture that did absolutely nothing to diminish his presence in my mind. In fact, when he smiled at me again a moment later, it felt like he was even closer than he'd been when he was whispering in my ear. My heart was thumping like crazy, and I knew that I needed—needed—for him to leave as soon as humanly possible.
For my own sanity.
I couldn't take my eyes off him as he headed for the door. Part of me imagined I could still feel the touch of his breath against my cheek, even as he turned to say his goodbyes.
The man had an aura at least a mile wide.
Still unable to speak, I waved and gave him a smile that I hoped was neither manic nor deranged. Under the circumstances, it was the best I could do.
Relief should've filled me as he finally stepped out of the door, but it didn't. Instead I just kept staring at him through the window. The battered jeans he wore did nothing to hide his strong, muscular legs, or any other part of him. He straddled the bike, putting on his helmet and revving the engine.
I'd never seen anything sexier.
It wasn't until he disappeared down the street before I finally felt like I could breathe again.
"He's really cool, isn't he?" Ali asked, grinning from ear to ear.
Yes, he was. But I didn't want him to be.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Very cool."
I didn't want him to be, but the truth was hard to avoid.
He was mad cool.
Exactly the sort of cool I didn't want around.
Or did I?
Dominick
I dismounted my bike, parking it a couple blocks away from the beach and walking the remainder. The streets were full of strangers, a reminder of why I disliked visiting Provincetown during tourist season. The small town exploded at the seams every summer, the quiet place suddenly a cauldron of noise and heat and crowds.
Not good for solitary types, not good at all.
A couple of good friends, an empty bar, playing pool beneath a whooshing fan—that was more my speed, not sandy white beaches full of families. Today, however, I was actively seeking out exactly that. Kids were running around everywhere while their mothers chased after them and fathers looked for souvenirs. The scent of sunscreen was everywhere, mixing and mingling with the aroma of fried donut holes and the ocean's waves.
Just a couple of days ago, I would've fled the scene like it was cursed.
Last night, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'd barely slept, remembering the imploring look Ali had given me when I left yesterday—and how sorely disappointed she would be when I came back and she got a chance to know me.
I had remembered how out-of-place I always felt here, surrounded by happy families I wanted nothing to do with. I had tried to imagine myself as one of those souvenir-buying dads, cringing inwardly all the while. That wasn't me, and could never be me. Ali and Helena both deserved more than I was capable of giving.
Parenthood just wasn't for me, it seemed. Even during a long-term relationship that had seemed to be heading in that direction, the timing had never seemed right. My own father had panicked and taken off after getting my mother pregnant, and I'd never so much as met him. I didn't want to be like that, didn't want to risk starting a family before I was ready.
And so I'd been too busy training, because I needed to make the team.
And then because I needed to prove myself, despite being the rookie.
And then I needed to save money, to profit off my youth while I still could.
And then it was back to training, because I had to prove myself again—after all, I was getting older.
Meanwhile, other players never seemed to have the same problem. They had found the time to start families of their own. At the age of thirty-five, it seemed obvious to me now that the problem had never been about the timing.
It had always been me.
I just wasn't cut out for fatherhood.
Eventually my long and sleepless night came to an end, and I was still obsessing about Provincetown. Somewhere along the line, though, the idea had shifted. I wasn't recoiling from it anymore, but rather craving it.
Damned if I knew when that had happened, or how.
Some deranged part of me had actually wanted to invite Ali and Helena to the beach today. When they had been busy with other plans, pure inertia had carried here all by myself.
I walked to the nearest street cart and bought a bag of still-hot churros, and I wondered if Helena liked them. Or if she'd ever taken Ali to the beach like this, for a day of fun. Had they ever been part of this crowd, just two more anonymous strangers I'd always tried to avoid?
I sat on the curb and watched other children playing, lost in thought. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but by the time it was over I knew that something inside of me had changed. I'd always been afraid of turning out like my father, and the thought had made me run away.
But now, running away was the worst thing I could do. Maybe I would be disappointing, but I already knew from experience that a disappointment was still better than nothing at all.
Besides, I wanted to know more about Ali. Her hobbies and habits, how she spent her free time, the way she interacted with her mother. For the last day, I'd scarcely been able to think about anything else.
Well, she liked motorcycles at least. That was something we already shared. There had to be more common ground, it was just a matter of finding it.
Helena, on the other hand, would probably not be so easy. The way her face had turned ashen when I showed up on her doorstep, or the tension she always seemed to carry whenever I was around.
Not to mention the other issue with her. The fact that she was so stunning, probably the sexiest woman I'd ever laid eyes on. The way I felt whenever I was around her, the irrational and deeply inappropriate feelings of possessiveness. Like she was my mate, like we shared some primal connection that made me think of her as mine.
It was some real caveman shit.
I was keeping it under control, not letting it change how I acted, but damn it was hard. I needed to deal with it somehow, as quickly and neatly as possible. Ordinarily I would've settled those urges by just calling an old fling, but that was no good in this situation.
The idea of me being with another woman filled me with as much revulsion as the idea of Helena being with another man.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remind myself for the thousandth time that she was a complete stranger who just happened to buy sperm I'd donated. It didn't mean anything, and acting like some chest-thumping troglodyte around her would only ruin a good thing. She was already suspicious of me, and trying to put the moves on her would probably send her screaming in the other direction, returning only long enough to hand me a restraining order.
Yeah, I tried to remind myself of all that.
Again.
But instead, when I closed my eyes, all I saw was Helena. The softness in her face, the curves of her ass, the silky imprint of her breasts barely concealed beneath those sexy-as-hell pajamas.
Why had she kept them on, anyway? I asked myself. She'd had plenty of time to change while I was with Ali, but instead she stayed like that.
Dressed practically in her underwear around me.
"It doesn't mean anything," I muttered, but my words were drowned out by the noise in my head.
It was the sound of a caveman, thumping his chest in triumph.
Chapter Three
Helena
"So…," I said, still reluctant to begin the conversation I'd been putting off since yesterday night.
"So?" Ali asked, obviously equally reluctant.
"So what do you have to say for yourself?" I clarified, serving us both a portion of lasagna and sitting down next to her at the table.
"What do you mean?" Ali asked with a clipped tone, the look on her face telling. Her multicolored eyes narrowed slightly, facial features tense. She wasn't any more ready to talk than I was. Worse, she seemed defensive enough that this could turn ugly.
This was going to be an uphill battle.
"What made you do that?" I asked. "And don't say 'do what.' You know what."
"You wouldn't understand," Ali said, gently pushing away her plate. I knew the feeling. I didn't have much of an appetite right now either, and the idea of food was overwhelming.
"Why don't you try me before making assumptions like that?"
"Okay," Ali said slowly, sounding completely unconvinced. "I needed to know who he was."
"Why?" I asked.
"I knew you wouldn't understand," she said, shrugging. Her tone was strangely neutral, not bitter or accusing at all. To her, it was a simple statement of fact. "You don't know what it's like to not know anything about your father."
"You think I don't? When's the last time we visited your grandmother?"
Ali's eyes widened, and her demeanor changed. The defensive posture was replaced by one of uncertainty as her features softened, and she looked as if the rug had just been pulled out from beneath her.
"I…we never have. She died before I was born."
"Long before you were born. Before I was your age," I said. "So don't tell me I don't understand what it's like to be missing a parent."
"But that's different," she said after a long period of silence. "You met her. Your dad talked about her. You never talked about Dominick."
"Because I had no idea who he was," I said, stating the obvious. "And neither did you, until you found that shady private investigator and paid him your life savings. Which, by the way, was almost certainly illegal. You're lucky that Dominick let it go so easily."
Ali drew her feet up onto the chair she was sitting on, wrapping her arms around her knees and hugging them against herself. She was very upset, but it was obvious that she'd had some deep need to get in contact with her dad. She'd put everything on the line to do it—her money, her safety, her relationship with me. We'd already talked about the safety aspect, but the rest remained unsaid.
I just wished that it could stay that way.
"You never would've agreed," Ali said finally.
"We could have discussed it."
"We could have. And then you would've said no."
"And what does that tell you?" I asked.
"That it's easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission," Ali said, paraphrasing a quote she'd learned from one of her favorite novels. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or yell. People always said TV was a bad influence on kids, but clearly books weren't always better.
And besides, as much as I hated to admit it, she wasn't exactly wrong. What Ali had done was completely out of line, and I couldn't imagine suddenly intruding onto someone's life after they'd signed numerous waivers of responsibility and promises of confidentiality. If she had tried to talk to me about this, there was no way I ever would've agreed.
And yet this was clearly very important to her. Important enough to ac
t completely out of character, her one and only major act of defiance since being born. More than that, I was having a very difficult time staying angry with her for just wanting to meet her father.
Hell, if I'd been able to do something similar to see my own mother again, I probably would've done the same thing.
"If you ever do anything like this again…," I said, trailing off at the end. Ali looked up at me and smiled in excitement, apparently relieved by my reaction.
"Of course I won't," she said quickly. "I only have two parents."
I nodded, still feeling raw and fragile.
"So what're we going to do now?"
"That's the question," I said carefully. Everything in me said to steer clear of Dominick Henderson, but one look in Ali's direction told me that doing so would've caused many, many problems.
Despite his flaws.
Despite my…increasingly problematic biological responses. The man was, as far as my research showed, an irresponsible playboy who would probably bail on us within a week. He was as far from father-of-the-year material as it got, and the kind of man I'd have hated to ever end up with.
Not that I could convince my body about any of that.
Stupid pregnancy hormones.
Stupid athlete pheromones.
"What do you want to do?" I asked finally, feeling more than a little lost.
"Promise you won't laugh?" Ali asked, her cheeks slowly turning a healthy shade of pink. The shy, awkward response reminded me that despite all of Ali's apparent maturity, she was still my little girl after all. It reminded me of reading "Goodnight Moon," to her every night, and the first days of preschool.
Except that she wasn't quite the carefree child she'd been back then. And I wasn't the center of her world anymore.
She needed more, and so far—so far—Dominick was willing to play the part of an interested father.
"I won't laugh," I said quietly, already knowing what she was about to say.
"I want to get to know my dad."