The kitchen has never felt so cozy.
Dylan is what we’ve been missing all along to complete our family.
“Hey,” says Dylan. “I’ve got to get going.”
“So soon?” says Sam. He sounds so much like a little adult sometimes that I have to stifle my laughter. He really cracks me up sometimes.
“Sorry to say so, but yes,” says Dylan, completely serious. “I have a game today, but I’d like to invite both of you to the game. I can get you tickets. All you have to do is show up and the tickets will be there for you. Good seats too.”
“Mom, can we go?” says Sam. Now he’s acting more like a typical kid. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”
“Yeah, Lauren, come on,” says Dylan, jumping onto Sam’s persistence.
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s going to be starting just when I’m finishing my shift at the massage center.”
“Just leave a little early,” says Dylan. “I’m sure they’ll understand if you have a chance to go to the game for free.”
“Yeah, mom,” says Sam. “They’ll understand for sure.”
“Especially if you’re going to see your favorite player, the one you always watch on TV,” says Dylan, giving me another wink.
I blush.
“All right,” I say. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises. We’ve got to eat, after all.”
“Awesome,” says Sam.
“This is great,” says Dylan. “I’ll look for you two in the stands.”
“You’ll really be able to see us in the stands out of all those people?”
“Maybe,” says Dylan. “If I look hard enough and get lucky, maybe I’ll find you two. But it’s not too much of a stretch. After all, I got lucky finding your mom again after all these years.”
“All right,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Let’s get going everyone. I’ve got to get to work, and you probably have to get back to the team, Dylan.”
“Yup,” says Dylan, taking the hint, and getting up from his chair.
I want to lean in and give him a kiss, and I can see he wants to do the same, but Sam’s right there, so we just smile at each other for a moment.
“Well, see you two later,” says Dylan. “It was very nice to meet you, Sam.”
“Nice to meet you too, Dylan,” says Sam.
Dylan gives us a cute little wave, before walking out the door to the hallway.
“I like Dylan,” says Sam. “He’s smart for a football player.”
“What makes you think football players aren’t smart?”
“I guess it’s just a cultural cliché,” says Sam.”
“You really amaze me every day, Sam,” I say.
“Why?” Sam looks confused. He always looks confused when I tell him he’s unusually smart for his age.
“It’s just that most kids your age have no idea what a cliché is, let alone a cultural cliché.”
“Oh,” says Sam, looking a little worried. He always does this.
“Don’t worry, Sam. It’s a good thing. It means your special. You’re unusually smart, you know?”
Sam nods his head. He looks a little better. It’s hard for me sometimes to remember—well, not that hard—that he’s still a kid emotionally, even if he can sound really mature sometimes when he speaks.
“You know,” I say. “I forgot to tell Dylan something. I’ll be right back, Sam.”
I blow him a kiss as I leave through the front door.
I rush down the steps of the front of the building.
Dylan’s sitting in his car. He rolls down the window and smiles at me when he sees me.
“You didn’t tell me you had a kid,” he says.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“So the father’s not in the picture?” he says.
I shake my head. If I don’t say too much, I won’t be lying. At least this is what I tell myself.
“You going to come to the game? It could be fun if you bring Sam. Maybe we could all do something afterwards, just the three of us.”
“I’d really like that,” I say. “I’ll do my best to go. I really will.”
“This isn’t going to be like at the end of college, is it?” says Dylan, looking worried.
“You really like me, don’t you?”
“You could say that.”
“It’s not going to be like it was in college,” I say.
This is the first time we’ve talked about college.
I have a hollow feeling in my stomach as Dylan finally drives away, but not before giving me a deep kiss.
I’m going to do everything I can to go to that game, and everything I can to keep seeing Dylan. I know I’m not going to run away from him like I did before. I just…I care about him too much. He means so much to me. He always did.
I guess I was scared before.
But now I have something new to be scared about. I know I need to tell him that Sam is his kid. But won’t he be furious at me for lying to him all these years? If anything could ruin this new budding relationship, it’s that.
I’m scared to think what would happen. If I were in Dylan’s position, I’d be outraged if someone dropped a news bomb on me like that.
Well, I can just not tell him. What could go wrong with that plan?
I drop Sam off at the daycare center for slightly older kids and head to work.
The shift goes dreadfully slowly, but fortunately they’re OK with me taking off a little early. My last client canceled this morning, so it’s not a big deal.
“So is this like a date?” says Tanya, one of the other massage therapists.
“I guess so,” I say.
“Wow,” says Tanya. “A pro football player. That’s quite a catch.”
“I don’t think about it like that,” I say.
“Oh no?” says Tanya. “You’ve got real feelings for him, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m pretty sure I do. But it’s not like that. I mean we went out in college. It was pretty hot and heavy.”
“But you don’t know how these football players are,” says Tanya, giving me a weird look, full of cynicism. “They’ve got a different girl every night. You don’t just want to be another notch in the bed post.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, before excusing myself.
But now that I’m alone—well, alone with my client, massaging his flabby shoulder—I can’t help but let Tanya’s words run through my head like a worrying plague. What if she’s right?
After all, it’s been years since I’ve seen Dylan. He seems the same, although more mature, but who knows? People can change a lot in a few years, inside becoming somewhat unrecognizable. And he doesn’t have the best reputation with women, from what the tabloids say.
But a few hours later and I’m in the car headed to pick up Sam to go to the game. I can’t let Tanya’s words get to me, I tell myself. She’s just saying that out of jealousy, probably. She wishes she were dating Dylan..
It seems like every woman wants to date a football player.
But I know what we have is more special. I want Dylan for something he has inside of him. The whole football player thing is just a bonus. A nice bonus, that is.
“So we’re really going to the game?” says Sam.
“Yeah,” I say. “You can tell all your friends at school on Monday about how you went to a real football game. They’ll probably be really jealous and have all sorts of questions for you.”
“I don’t have that many friends,” says Sam.
“I thought you were getting along with Bobby?”
“He’s boring. He can’t even tell time.”
I sigh. I really don’t know what to tell Sam. I wish I knew what to say that would make it easier on him.
Maybe what he needs is a father, who can teach him about sports, and about how to integrate himself better in his peer group. Dads always seem to be great at that.
&
nbsp; We’re pulling into the huge stadium parking lot. There are fans all around with body paint. A lot of them are grilling and drinking beer with the trunks of their SUVs open.
“Wow,” says Sam. “Is that the stadium?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You know, I’ve never been to a pro game either?”
“But didn’t you and Dylan know each other for a long time, since college?”
“You’re pretty sharp to pick up on that. But when I knew Dylan then he wasn’t yet a pro player. He played for the college team. By the time I met him, he was already done with the season that year. Although he had been drafted already.”
“What’s drafted?”
“I’m not sure really in football terms.” I’ve never known much about football, and I have my doubts about being able to even follow the game today. “I think it means that he got a contract with the team.”
We make out way into the stadium after parking the cars, trying to zigzag our way through the huge crowds. The tickets are at the counter for us, under my name.
“Enjoy the game,” says the man at the ticket counter, with a wink. “You must have good connections to get seats like that.”
“Are they good?”
“You’re not a football fan, are you?”
Well, yes and no. I can’t say I’ve watched every one of Dylan’s games but don’t really know anything about the sport.
“Not really,” I say.
“I didn’t think so, or else you’d know how coveted those seats are. I’d give my left nut to get tickets like that.”
“I hope you won’t keep talking like that in front of my kid.”
“It’s OK, mom. I’ve heard worse.”
“No you haven’t,” I say.
“Sorry,” says the guy, who’s got a long ponytail and piercings all over. “Just enjoy the game, lady. I’m sure you will.”
Someone guides us to the seats.
We just keep going down and down and down, until we’re sitting almost right at the level of the field.
“Wow, mom,” says Sam. “I can see everything. I can see it so much better than on TV.”
We have an ancient TV that’s not only small but also really blurry.
But the players really do look clearer than on the picture you could get on any of the best most expensive TVs. There are some things money can’t buy. But, then again, money could probably buy seats like these.
The game’s starting, and Sam is sitting with rapt attention, following the ball everywhere it goes.
He’s asking me all sorts of questions that I don’t know the answers to. Truth be told, I’ve managed to watch a lot of Dylan’s football games on TV without learning the name of a single play. I’ve always just been focused on Dylan rather than the game.
I’m actually having trouble following the game. To me, football is boring. Except Dylan. Dylan’s not boring.
I love watching him move in his football pads. I’m pretty sure the eyes of every woman here in the stadium are trained on him.
But he’s mine. Well, he’ll be mine. He was mine last night, and I’m sure he’ll be mine tonight.
Unless what Tanya said was true.
But I’m sure it isn’t. Dylan isn’t that kind of guy. What we have is a lot more special. What we have is real.
So long as I don’t tell him about Sam.
“They’re winning, mom,” says Sam, excited. “Dylan’s winning.”
“Good, honey,” I say. I was in my own little world.
I look back at the field.
They’re all lined up, ready to start the play.
One of the players hikes the ball to Dylan.
Dylan looks so concentrated on the task at hand. Nothing in the world could take his mind off the ball, off the players, off what’s happening on the field.
His arm is cocked back. He’s looking for an opening.
He spots it. It’s something only he can see.
The crowd is moaning.
For the first time, I notice that all around us are The Rabbits fans. They’re the really dedicated fans who’ve traveled all the way to Baltimore to support their brand new team in person.
They’re the ones who are moaning with dreaded anticipation. They think Dylan’s making the wrong move—but as his arm releases the ball, and it goes spiraling through the air, I can see now that Dylan saw an opening no one else was able to see.
Shit. He just looks so fucking sexy.
I want to run onto the field now and jump up, straddling him with my legs.
The security staff would probably frown on that, though.
Suddenly, The Rabbits fans are cheering and jumping up and down.
The pass was completed, and the receiver is running, sprinting through a crowd of Baltimore’s defensemen.
He makes it.
“Touchdown,” shouts the announcer, and the digital scoreboard ‘flips’ over, revealing a new score.
“The Rabbits are winning, mom,” says Sam. His eyes are shining with excitement. “Do you think Dylan knows we’re here.”
Before I can answer, Dylan spots us.
He’s jogging along the side of the field when he sees us. He gives us a wave, and points in our direction.
I blush with embarrassment as the cameras train on us, and our image shows up on the big digital screen in the stadium. Everyone here can now see us.
“Looks like Dylan Knight’s got some new admirers,” the announcer is saying, and the crowd is laughing.
The Rabbits end up winning, but I don’t spend much time concentrating on the game.
I’m still watching Dylan, of course, but most of the time I’m just dreaming of what our life could be like together. If only I hadn’t done what I did. Maybe everything would have turned out completely differently.
I’m sure Dylan and Sam would make a great father and son team.
I’m also dreaming about getting into bed with Dylan tonight. It’s practically all I can think about, steamy thoughts that overtake my awareness completely.
After the game, I’m headed back to the car, when I get a call from Dylan.
“I’m in the locker-room,” he says, and I instantly get a mental image of Dylan undressing, pulling off his pads one by one to reveal his chiseled body.
16
Dylan
“Nice one, Dylan,” say various teammates, giving me fist bumps or high fives, as the mood strikes them.
I’m stripping down, ready to hit the shower.
But first I’ve got to call Lauren.
“You calling your girlfriend,” says coach, coming up to me.
I nod, and try to shoo him away. He doesn’t like that one bit.
“Dylan, you’ve got to concentrate on the game fully.”
What the hell is he talking about? We just won.
“You won’t want to get mixed up with some woman and her kid. This is going to destroy your career.”
“I’ll call you back in a second,” I say to Lauren, hanging up the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen this happen before. You think I didn’t see them in the seats you got them, or on the screen overhead?”
“I didn’t know you were in charge of who I date.”
“I’m not saying I am,” says coach. “I just want you to concentrate on football, not some family.”
“I’m going to keep doing what I think is necessary,” I say.
Coach ambles away, grumbling to himself.
“She sure looked like a hot piece of ass,” says Richie, one of the scummiest guys on the team. He’s got long hair that gets caught sometimes in his ragged teeth when he’s all sweaty. And he always seems to be sweaty.
I nod in a noncommittal way.
“You think I could get a crack at her sometime?” Richie’s got his nasty sneer on his face. Half smile, half…something. I don’t know how to describe it.
“No,�
�� I say, turning away from him.
“Come on, man. You can take care of the kid while I do her. Take him to the park or something.” He’s chuckling to himself, as if this is the funniest thing in the world.
“Fuck off, Richie,” I say.
“What’d you say to me?”
“Fuck off.”
Richie’s on top of me before I can do anything. He isn’t a pro football player for nothing. He’s fast and strong.
But soon I’ve got the situation turned around, and I’m on top of him, jamming his head back into the metal locker.
“Take it back,” I say.
He spits on me, and I react somewhat immaturely by punching him in the stomach.
He’s gasping for breath, but still manages to spit again.
He’s a tough one.
“Fine,” he says. “She’s a nice sweet girl. The nicest one I ever met, and I’d never think of laying a finger on her.”
“Good,” I say, getting up.
A couple guys are standing around watching. None of them meet my gaze.
I skip the shower and get into my car.
Lauren.
I’ve got to call her. I want to see her. No, I need to see her.
“You want to do something tonight?” I say to her. She picked up immediately—a good sign.
“Yeah, definitely,” she says.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath, but I suddenly release it. She means a lot to me, but I didn’t quite realize how much, how anxious I was getting. After all, it’s not often I have fights with teammates.
“Dylan,” she says, her voice growing concerned “There’s an article about you in the paper about you fighting with one of your teammates.”
What? How did the news get out that fast? But then I remember that this is the second fight I’ve been in. This must have been from the other day.
Oh well, at least they’ll know not to talk shit about Lauren anymore.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “It’s just normal football stuff. They’re looking for a story anywhere they can find one.”
“Does that mean Sam and I will be in the paper? We were on TV after all.”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say.
We agree to meet in an hour. I tell her I’ll take her and Sam out for dinner.
Football Baby: A Secret Baby Romance Page 11