“Here.” She hands Savannah to me and I freeze. “I need to use the bathroom real quick.” She goes down the hallway to find it herself and I’m dumbstruck.
She’s already leaving me alone with her? I look at Savannah. We stare at each other in silence for the longest time.
“Hey,” she says with a smile.
“Hey.”
She keeps glancing down at my beard before finally reaching up to touch it, her eyes widening.
“Do you like my beard?” I ask, feeling dumber by the second.
Savannah nods. “It tickles.”
Sydney returns. A smile graces her lips when she sees Savannah’s fingers buried in my beard. “Savannah,” she starts. “You remember Ian?” The little girl nods. “Ian is your daddy, so that’s what we’re going to call him.” My eyes widen at the bomb she just dropped, but Sydney keeps talking. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes!” Savannah shouts.
“Then Mommy, Daddy, and Savannah are going out for pancakes.”
Just like that she heads for the door, Savannah rambles about pancakes, and I follow after Sydney to her car. Sydney shows me how to buckle Savannah into her car seat, which makes me feel dumb, but I’ve never done it before. After that, we’re on our way to a restaurant.
Savannah surprises the hell out of me when she decides she wants to sit next to me. Sydney pulls out a coloring book and some crayons for her. That causes Savannah to crawl into my lap so she can reach the table better. She hands me a crayon and orders me to color with her.
“You’ve been quiet,” Sydney says after we order.
“It’s a lot to take in. How do you handle everything?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, the day-to-day stuff?”
“Oh, well, she goes to daycare during the day while I go to my classes and such. She’ll start preschool this year. Then, we spend the evenings together. Carey or Logan gets her into bed and stays home while I work the graveyard shift at the restaurant.”
“When do you sleep?” I ask.
“I nap during the day and she gets in an afternoon nap. Plus, I don’t work every night.”
How is she not sleep-deprived? No, she probably is. How is she functioning?
“And you make enough money to pay for it all?”
Her cheeks redden. “Well, Carey and Logan already had the apartment before I moved here.”
“What do you mean?” I interrupt.
“Oh. Right. I stayed home my first two years and went to the community college, so I didn’t move here until the summer we got in touch again. Anyway, they won’t let me pay rent or utilities and sometimes, not even groceries. I make enough to buy gas, food, clothes, and pay for her daycare. I’m not rolling in money, but we get by.”
“Color!” Savannah taps my hand and I color the bear on the page again.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“I’m not going to turn you down.”
“Well, how much would you need?”
Sydney shakes her head. “You can help however much you want.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here; a number would be helpful.”
Why is she struggling over this? “I think the average is five hundred dollars a month,” she eventually says.
“That’s it? How fast could you spend that?”
“That wouldn’t cover her daycare for a month, but anything helps. Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine with me because we’ve been doing okay so far.”
Not really, she hasn’t. She doesn’t pay rent or utilities. Could she afford it if she had to when she said she makes just enough to pay for the essentials?
“Wait!” Savannah grabs my hand and pulls my brown crayon out of it. “This one next.” She gives me a pink crayon, so I color in his nose.
The food is set down on the table, but Sydney tells her to color for a little bit longer. I watch as she goes ahead and cuts up Savannah’s food into bite-size pieces and lightly drizzles syrup over the pancakes. She waves the waitress back over for a lid and straw for Savannah’s cup.
“She’ll knock something over in a heartbeat, so you’ve been warned. You’ll probably be sticky by the time we leave.” Sydney pauses. “Do you want her to sit with me?”
“No, that’s okay.”
With my answer, she takes the crayons and coloring books, slips them back into her bag, and I pull Savannah’s plate over and then my own. Savannah immediately reaches for a slice of bacon on my plate.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
She gives me a cheeky grin and bites a piece off. Sydney laughs. I reach over and steal a piece of her pancake, which Savannah finds hilarious. She holds up the slice of bacon.
“We share, okay?”
“Deal.”
“Deal,” she repeats.
The only thing she wants off my plate is my bacon, but after every bite she takes, she holds it up for me to take a bite. The girl is adorable.
“So, what is your everyday life like?” Sydney asks me.
“Practice, working out, might watch some film, and do anything the team wants us to do. If it’s game day, I get a nap in and then I’m at the arena for the better part of the evening. There’s a game tomorrow. It’s a little early if you guys want to come.” I keep talking to avoid her saying no. “I have a game Tuesday and then I’m on the road from Wednesday to Monday. You can look up the schedule online to get an idea of when I’m busy based on games and when there are away games. We have one day a week off.”
“You’re busy.”
“Yeah, but I generally have the summer to do what I want.” An idea hits me. “Hey, can I show you guys the practice facility after this?”
Sydney seems caught off guard, but she nods. “What would we have to do to go to the game?”
“Nothing. I’ll give you what you need to get in and you can park in a special area of the parking lot for family members. If you want, I can have someone meet you and show you to the box with the other wives and girlfriends.”
“That would be great. We’ll go.”
We finish our breakfast, Savannah surprises me by eating all of her food, and then we’re off to the practice facility.
“Where we are?” Savannah asks as we walk inside.
“This is where your daddy comes to work,” Sydney answers her.
“And where we’re going to have some fun,” I add.
I’m the only one with skates, but that’s no problem. Once they are on my feet, I take Savannah’s hands and make her step onto the ice. Her eyes widen as she shuffles her feet, seemingly thrilled that it’s slippery.
“Be careful,” Sydney says from the sidelines.
“I want skates,” Savannah talks over her.
“We can get you a pair,” I promise. “Want to feel how cold the ice is?” We crouch down and she squeals as she plants her entire hand, palm down, on the ice.
“Brrr! That cold!” she screams. I can’t help but laugh because she keeps touching it anyway, lifting her hand and then placing it right back on the ice.
“Come on. I’m going to carry you while I skate, okay?”
She nods, so I pick her up and off we go. I skate at a leisurely pace, circle the net a few times, and Savannah seems to eat up every minute.
“Go fast,” she demands.
I shift her so she’s on my back. “Hold on tight,” I say, even though I have a good hold on her. She squeezes my neck. “Ready?”
“Yeah!” she shouts.
I take off down the ice. She immediately squeals and starts saying, “Woah! Woah! Woah!” as I approach the other end. I feel her hide her face in my neck as I skid to a stop next to the net, spraying a snow of ice everywhere. Savannah lifts her head. “Again! Again!” She giggles.
This time, she doesn’t hide her face in fear that I’ll crash us into the boards and I can’t seem to wipe the smile off of my face. Savannah has me skating up and down the ice as fast as I can so many times that my legs start to get sore.
“Oh, Savannah,” I start dramatically. “Can we stop? My legs hurt and I might fall. The ice is cold, remember? Brr.”
“Brr!” she repeats.
“Let’s go see Mommy.” It’s weird to call Sydney that, but hopefully, I’ll get used to it here soon.
“No! Skate more!”
“Savannah,” Sydney begins as we approach her. “Skating time is over. Daddy will bring you back another time. He’s tired.”
I sure am. Wonder how long it’ll take to get used to someone calling me Daddy because that’s even weirder than Sydney being Mommy. Savannah pouts as Sydney takes her off my back. I sit down, sighing loudly as my legs finally get a break, and start to take my skates off. Savannah is babbling about skating, but Sydney is watching me. Did I do something wrong? I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t.
“Babe, what is it?” I ask because I’m tired of her looking at me with an expression I don’t understand. The second it comes out of my mouth, I wish I could take it back. I’m still pissed. She doesn’t get to be called that right now. When I correct with, “Sydney, I mean,” she winces.
“You two are cute together is all.”
Okay then. I mumble a thanks and then we’re on our way back to my apartment.
“We’re going to head home,” she says when she pulls into the parking space.
Should I be surprised that I’m a little bummed? How much of that has to do with Sydney instead of Savannah?
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll text you the details for tomorrow.”
She nods and looks back at Savannah. “How do we say goodbye, buttercup? Tell your daddy.”
“Bye, Daddy! I love you!”
My throat is suddenly tight and I’m frozen. All I can do is stare at Sydney. She just called me daddy and she said she loved me. Sydney shrugs. “It’s how we say goodbye.”
Clearing my throat, I turn to Savannah, hoping my voice stays steady. “Bye, Savannah. I love you, too.” Then, I look at Sydney. “Later.” I get out of the car before I can see her reaction. I don’t care what it is.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
I thank the guy who showed me to the room and walk inside. There’s two separate groups of women, it seems, and a handful of kids. One group doesn’t pay us any attention, but there’s a cluster of four women who turn to look. One stands and rushes over.
“Who are you?” She seems excited, but almost accusing, too.
Am I in the wrong room? The guy said this was the right one. My mouth opens, closes, and Savannah is the one who says, “I’m Savannah!”
“It’s nice to meet you, Savannah,” the woman says and the other three now join her. “I’m Sylvia, Scott Boyd’s wife.” She holds out her hand and I shake it.
Another hand appears, this one belonging to a woman with dirty blonde hair. “I’m Elizabeth, Marc Polinski’s girlfriend, but you can call me Lizzy.”
Then, that of a brunette. “I’m Meredith, Noah Ramsey’s fiancée.”
Lastly, I shake hands with the final one. “I’m Theresa, Nathan O’Donnell’s wife.”
“And you are?” Sylvia asks.
“Sydney, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know who any of those men are.” They all said it as if I should.
Their eyes widen and then Sylvia gasps.
“You’re Ian’s woman! Sort of, right? The girlfriend who isn’t really his girlfriend and who didn’t know he played hockey?”
They know about me?
“Sylvia, I think you’re scaring her,” Lizzy says. “Come on. Let’s sit down and watch the game. Savannah can play with my nieces, if you don’t mind.”
That’s when I notice two girls older than Savannah. Savannah immediately wants to get down and play. I reluctantly let her, but I sit so I can keep an eye on her.
“Can you tell us how it happened?” Sylvia asks. “Everything between you and Ian?”
She can’t be serious, can she?
“Ignore her,” Meredith says. “She’s nosy and she likes to know everything about everyone. You don’t have to tell her anything.”
I nod. Good.
Sylvia huffs. “Well, how long have you known Ian?”
“Since I was sixteen.”
“What do you do?” Lizzy asks and I’m thankful for her. I don’t really want to talk about my complicated history with Ian with strangers.
“I’m a waitress, but I’m going to college.” I’ll have my bachelor’s this spring, but then I might start on my master’s.
“That’s great,” Lizzy says.
“How old is your daughter?” Theresa asks.
“She turns three in March.”
“She’s adorable,” Meredith tells me.
“Thanks.” I glance down at the ice. We were a little late, so it’s already started.
“Mommy!” Savannah rushes over, but whatever she wanted to say is forgotten. Her eyes widen as she sees the ice. “Oh, ice! They fast!”
I lean down, so she’s the only one who will hear me. “Yep, they are. Your daddy is out there somewhere, too.”
“I wanna go!”
“You can’t right now. They are playing a hockey game, so you have to be a player to be on the ice. Your daddy plays, that’s why he is on the ice. Are you having fun with your new friends?”
She nods and leaves me to keep playing.
“Do you want us to explain the game to you?” Sylvia asks.
“No, that’s okay. This will probably be the only game I’ll see.”
That surprises them, but I don’t care. I’m not a sports fan and I’m pretty sure the only reason why Ian asked us to come is so Savannah could see him play. Too bad she’s having more fun playing with the other girls. My eyes alternate between Savannah and the ice.
Everything seems to be the same when I look at the game. The players are either on one end of the ice or the other, it seems. They crash and bump into the boards a lot. Other than that, they chase the little black puck around and are pretty aggressive with their sticks sometimes. At least, it seems so to me.
At some point, one of our players is carted off to sit all by himself, which just from watching the jumbotron, I learn is because he earned a penalty. That makes me laugh. He’s in timeout like a two-year-old. Do other sports do this?
Despite having him sitting in the box while he watches his teammates work hard for his mistake, as they are now a player short—it took me about thirty seconds to realize this—they manage to score a goal. A loud horn goes off.
Savannah rushes over. “What happen, Mommy?”
“Rebels scored. Goal!” I raise my forearms, though I really don’t care and if it wasn’t for the announcer, I wouldn’t know who scored the goal.
“Goal!” Savannah repeats, raising her arms. She climbs into my lap to watch the game as one of the girls, whose name I learn is Stella, comes to sit in Sylvia’s lap. Stella and Savannah talk. Stella seems to know the game way better than I do. She impresses me as she talks to Savannah as if she’s really understanding everything she says.
The women don’t say much more to me since I made the comment about how I probably won’t be back to another game. I don’t know if this is good or bad. They spend most of their time talking to one another, so they know each other well. But I probably won’t be coming back to another game unless Savannah wants to come.
The Rebels score another goal. Savannah claps and cheers when she hears the goal horn, her arms going up in the air as she shouts, “Goal!”
My mind wanders back to yesterday. I wonder how long it’ll take before Ian stops being mad at me. Yeah, I know he should be, but that doesn’t mean I want him to be. The longer he’s mad at me, the longer things aren’t normal with us. And I want them to be normal. The problem is Ian wants to change that.
At least, he did before I told him he has a daughter.
When the game ends and I stand, Sylvia reaches out to stop me.
“Don’t leave yet. The guys will come up here.”
“Oh.�
�� I sit back down, wondering if I should stay. Ian never said anything about seeing me after the game. Savannah leaves my lap to play with Stephanie, the other little girl, and slowly, guys start trickling in.
“Okay, I can’t take it anymore,” Sylvia begins. “What happened with you and Ian? How did he lie about his job if you’ve known him since you were sixteen? Why are you his girlfriend but not his girlfriend?”
“Sylvia!” Lizzy exclaims. “It’s none of your business.”
“But nothing is happening with Miss Wedding Planner over there,” she points at Meredith, “and I already know everything about you and Marc. This is fresh and juicy and it’s killing me!”
“Forgive her,” Theresa says. “She just needs a trip to the hairdresser and she’ll have her fill of gossip, so she can stop badgering you. She likes to know things and once she knows a little, she has to know it all.”
I’m relieved when I see Ian walk through the door because it means I can get away from these crazy people. He looks really good wearing a suit, but now isn’t the time to think about that. He smiles when he sees me, which is a good sign.
“Hey, have fun?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hey, whose kid is this?”
My heart stops as I see a blond-haired, blue-eyed man holding my daughter. I grab Ian’s arm. My fingertips dig into his arm so hard that if he still bruises easily, there will be a bruise there later. No one seems to be panicking, but I am! I don’t know who that is! Why is he holding my daughter? My entire body is tense next to Ian, who thankfully does something since I can’t seem to do anything.
“Give my kid back, Marco.” He sounds relaxed, which is a good sign, but the room has fallen silent as they realize what he said.
“Do I have to?” Marc asks as he hands her to Ian. “She said I was pretty.” Marc is the last one to catch on. “Wait, she’s yours, Bruiser?” He glances between Savannah and Ian.
I burst out laughing. “They still call you that?”
Ian cuts me a look. “Don’t say another word.” So, they must not know how he got it then. “That’s what I said, Marc. Come on, Sydney. There’s someone I want you guys to meet real quick.”
As I’m following him out of the room, I hear Sylvia say, “Oh, this totally just got way more interesting. Did y’all know he had a daughter?”
It's Our Time (Carolina Rebels Book 4) Page 3