Lucky Daddy

by Eva Luxe

  “If there’s any chance that boy is yours,” my mom says. “You have to make sure you do everything you can to be there for him. Because you know what it’s like to feel abandoned.”

  Chapter 18

  Janelle

  I hate him…I love him…I love him…I hate him…what is wrong with me!?

  I had sex dreams all fucking night! After all of that – getting mad at him and throwing him out of the house. After I yelled at myself for being such an idiot and making the same mistake for the second time, I go upstairs and dream about having sex with him all night.

  In my dream, Chris was going down on me again, but he had me propped up on the back of the couch with both legs spread so wide they were touching the armrests. I had to hold on to his head to stop from falling off. Just as I was getting close, I woke up humping my spare pillow like a fucking teenager.

  It’s frustrating not feeling in control of your own emotions and thoughts. It was like this after Chris left the first time. Nothing I did felt like it was helping get Chris off my mind. It took time. Finally, after months I was able to put him out of my mind, but no matter what he did, he’d find his way back in there.

  And now, staring at the ceiling, lying sexually frustrated in bed, I realize I’m back to square one.

  I took a long, scalding hot shower last night after he left, and cried my eyes out. It was all just too much to handle. I sat down in the tub and just let the hot spray beat down on my back and head while I rested by head on my knees. I sat there until the water went cold and I had to get out.

  I dried off and got into bed. It took forever to get to sleep, and then of course I’d dream about Chris and wake up an hour later feeling worse than I did before.

  Chris needs to get out of my head!

  It was stupid thinking for any amount of time that there could be more to him than meets the eye. He’s just a smooth talker and that’s it. He knows what to say to a girl because he’s practiced, over and over and over.

  Just the thought of that sends a pang of pain through my heart. I’m sure he’ll find some random bitch to have pound out tonight and blow her mind and her pussy will just make her brain fall in love with him. Makes me sick.

  I get up and put some clothes on. Beth is going to be here any minute with Max. His favorite cereal is already sitting out by the sink, so I grab a bowl and a spoon and set them at the table.

  It’s a nice day out, which I’m not sure whether I’m happy about or not. I kind of wish it was rainy and cloudy, like my mood. But the other part of me knows that the sun will cheer me up and make it easier for Max to play outside.

  I take a seat at the table and wait. It will be great to see my little boy again. I know he’s only been gone less than half a day, but it feels like a long time to me. Part of me wishes he had been here last night though. I wouldn’t have let Chris in, which means I wouldn’t have slept with him, which means…

  Well, what does that mean?

  Maybe if I hadn’t come to the door in a towel and let him take me on the floor – maybe he would have given me an explanation for his absence.

  Don’t be stupid!

  If he had an explanation he would have given me one. Sleeping with him or not wouldn’t change anything. If he was actually a good guy, he’d show it and tell me why he’d been gone for two years without a word. But if Max had been home, the whole situation could have been avoided – for a while.

  The doorbell rings. Thank God. I need something, anything to get my mind off Chris. And what better than my beautiful little boy?

  “Coming!” I say, doing my best to sound cheerful as I head to the door. “Thank you so much, Beth—”

  I tug open the door and almost fall over. It’s not Beth. It’s not my son. It’s Chris.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says. Without waiting for a response, he barges right past me and steps into the house.

  “Hey! Hey!” I shout, backing up, trying to get in his way and stop him from getting any further inside. “What do you think you’re doing!?”

  “We need to talk,” he says again with a voice that lets me know he’s not going anywhere. I stand in front of him, defenseless again, trying to ignore how devastatingly handsome he is. It’s impossible, so I avert my eyes and cross my arms.

  But he doesn’t say anything, and after a while I am forced to look back at him.

  “Well?” I say like a brat.

  “He’s mine, isn’t he?” He says it like it’s a fact and not a question. I chew my lip and stare back at him without reply.

  What do I say?

  Part of me wants to tell him the truth, but if I do, that means I’m condemning Max, and me, to a lifetime of an absentee, jerk of a father, coming in and out of his life with absolutely no regularity or reliability.

  “You know my father left me?” He says, interrupting my thought process. I look up at him. “Not when I was young. After high school when I got drafted to the league. Just up and left – no explanation. I guess he figured I was a man and would be okay. But it still hurt. It hurt a lot more than I was able to understand until two years ago…”

  Chris stops and looks at his feet. I can feel his tension in my chest. I know he’s about to say something important, but I almost don’t want him to. He’s hurting, and it hurts me to see it. He’s always been so strong and invulnerable, both on and off the field, but now I’m seeing a side of him I never knew existed.

  “He died two years ago,” he says, the words choking in his throat. “That’s where I went that morning – to Alaska. He moved there when he left Ohio. I was there for a long time, dealing with everything – the funeral, his estate. When I got back we were on the road with games. I could barely focus…”

  The pain in his face becomes pain in my heart. I want to reach out and wrap my arms around him, hold him to my chest and tell him everything will be okay. But he needs to get this out, and I need to hear it.

  “I thought about you every day,” he says and I feel myself starting to choke up. These are the words I’ve been dreaming to hear for all this time. “But when I got back to Ohio, I couldn’t find you. I went to the diner and you weren’t there. Carla wasn’t there. No one knew where you went.”

  Chris laughs to himself and chokes back a sob.

  “I actually drove around town hoping to just bump into you. But I never did. You were like this ghost…a memory that I never thought I’d find again. Then it was back on the road, dealing with more of my father’s estate…I never even got your number…”

  Chris’s voice trails off and I know he’s reached the end of whatever he’d planned to say. After hearing all that, our arguments seem so petty and absurd. If only he’d said this when he first came over! But there wasn’t any time. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other and then I had to make that snide comment when we were done. That must have hurt him.

  Here he is lying next to me wondering how to tell me about his father’s death, and I make some bratty little comment about him ditching me again. What a mess!

  “Chris, I’m – I’m so sorry.”

  His head hangs at his chest as I step close to him and wrap my arms around his waist. He moves closer to me and rests his chin against my neck and locks his arms around my back. We fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. His heart beats slow and strong against me and I feel his chest rise and fall slowly as he takes deep breaths trying to calm himself down.

  He is the man I hope he was…and it took all this time to discover it.

  “Chris,” I whisper. “Max – he’s your son.”

  Chris doesn’t answer immediately, but somehow I can feel the reaction in his body. He squeezes me harder, presses his head harder against my neck and sighs a sigh of relief.

  He wanted Max to be his son.

  “I’ll be there for him, Janelle,” he says. “For you and Max.”

  I want to believe him…so badly! But Max will be home soon, and if I tell him now that Chris is his father, and Chris leaves again
…well, I just can’t let that happen.

  Nothing would make me happier now than to have Chris step up and be the man I need him to be, but I cannot rush into things. I did that before and it was the wrong decision. And this time, it’s not just my feelings at stake, it’s my son’s as well.

  I open my mouth to speak, but as if Chris can read my mind, he cuts me off.

  “You don’t have to answer me now,” he tells me. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I will be there for you – and Max.”

  He pulls back from me and picks something up from the front porch and hands it to me. A tiny little foam football.

  “For Max,” he says softly before turning away.

  Every fiber of my being wants to scream out, “Don’t go!” But I fight and fight and say nothing. I just watch him walk across the front lawn to his car and drive away.

  I’m willing to give him a chance. I’m willing to let him prove himself to me. But I’m not willing to put Max through that process. If Chris is really the man he says he is, he will understand that. And if it all works out, if he proves to me that he meant everything he just said, then we will be together.

  Chapter 19

  Chris

  It feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. I said what I had to say and that’s all I can do. Now it’s up to her. If she really doesn’t want anything to do with me – then I guess I’ll just have to accept that. But everything in me is praying she understands.

  I poured my soul out to her. I’ve never spoken like that to anyone before about my father, let alone a girl. The guys on the team know the general story about what happened with him, how he went to Alaska and bailed on me, but it was more of a joke or a comment here and there than an actual discussion. I just can’t talk about stuff like that with any of the guys on the team.

  But with Janelle, I feel like I can tell her anything and she’d understand. The way she was looking at me made me feel insanely vulnerable but also completely secure at the same time. It’s like she could see into me but didn’t judge me. I teared up like an idiot and she didn’t even flinch. In fact, I think she liked seeing me be that vulnerable in front of her.

  Smelling her gets me every time. She just smells like home. It’s hard to believe we’ve only seen each other a few times, because it feels like a lifetime. I feel like I’ve known her my whole life.

  Max…that’s my son’s name.

  I hope he likes the football. It’s not like I need him to grow up to be a football player like dad – I mean, I’d be supportive of my son in anything he wants to do, but I thought it would be a nice thing to give him. Every young boy likes to run around and get his energy out.

  I wonder what he’s like. Visions of all the things we could do together race through my head like a movie on fast forward. He’s already walking, and I hate the fact that I missed that, but there’s so much more to do with him. Teach him to run and play football, to read, how to deal with bullies at school and watch him learn and grow into a man.

  And all the while, I’d have Janelle by my side, experiencing it all with me.

  I want to head to my father’s old house, but I don’t really have anything over there yet. All my clothes, my toothbrush – it’s all at my place, so I head there. I half expect there to be a few guys from the team throwing a party or something. They’ve been known to do that. But thankfully, no one’s here.

  I park and head inside. For some reason, the house feels cold and uninviting. My old mentality is just soaked all over the place. I can remember the strippers, the fan girls, the parties and all the mayhem that I thought I wanted in my life, and it makes my skin crawl.

  I’ll sell this place and, if Janelle and I end up together, we’ll move into the place my father left me. Maybe one of the boys on the team will take this place off my hands and save me the hassle of putting it on the market. I don’t really care if I don’t make any money. Hell, I’d take a loss just to get rid of the place.

  I brush my teeth, take a shower and collapse onto the bed, my mind swimming with thoughts of Janelle, Max and what my life could be. I hear the sound of a train as I close my eyes.

  I hope she understands, I think as I feel myself slipping away into sleep. I hope…

  *

  I wake up feeling energized – refreshed, but also anxious as all Hell. I want to grab my phone and call Janelle, but I realize I still don’t have her number and it’s probably a good thing too. She needs time. I try to put myself in her shoes and think about how I would feel, and if I were her, I’d want time to think.

  But that doesn’t do anything to calm me down. My next thought is to hop in the car, speed across town, knock on her door and ask her how she feels. She’d throw her arms around me and tell me she understands and wants to be with me. At least that’s what I hope would happen.

  I roll out of bed and head downstairs and grab some cereal. There’s really nothing else in the house. I’m on the road so much that food ends up going bad if I leave it here and I never really spent much time cooking for myself anyway.

  I wonder what she’s up to right now…

  She’s probably up already. Kids wake up early as Hell. Is she making him breakfast too? Or playing with him? I realize I’ve spent so little time around actual mothers that I don’t even know what goes into a typical day when you have a kid that age.

  But I’d like to find out.

  My mind jumps around like a ping pong ball hit into a corner. From thoughts of selling the house, to telling my mom about my decision, to wondering how Janelle is going to react or get in touch with me. It’s weird in this day and age not to have someone’s phone number, but I’m happy we’re not communicating that way yet.

  I can only imagine the passionate, thoughtless texts one of us would have sent to the other by now. But this way, we both at least have some time to think about our feelings before we say them out loud.

  I’d thought about how to tell Janelle about my father for two years, but I still just ended up rambling like I hadn’t rehearsed that speech a thousand times.

  I guess I’ll have to go see her sometime. But when? Today? Tomorrow? A week from now? How much time does she need? Or should I wait for her to get in touch with me?

  But how would she do that? She doesn’t have my number, and I feel like asking her to make up her mind and then drive over here to tell me is a little much. I’m the one that has to make things up to her, not the other way around.

  But wouldn’t that be awesome?

  What am I? A hopeless romantic here?

  Playing out scenarios with Janelle in my mind like I’m writing a movie or something. But, man…that would be fucking amazing to just hear a knock on the door, pull it open and see her standing there.

  “I want to be with you.” Would she say that? What would I say back?

  I shake my head and laugh at myself and shovel another spoonful of cereal into my mouth. Don’t be a fucking idiot! I’ll just keep going about my life and if Janelle comes around – she comes around. There’s no use running through a million different scenarios in my mind that may or may not happen. It’ll just drive me crazy.

  I scoop the last of the cereal into my mouth and just as I’m getting up to put the bowl in the sink – I hear the doorbell.

  No – fucking – way.

  I freeze like it might be someone ready to break in and kill me and I have to be as quiet as possible. Maybe I’m just hearing things…

  Then it rings again.

  It can’t be. There’s just no way. Was I really just imagining Janelle coming over here and telling me she wanted to be with me, and now she’s at the door?

  It must be like the mailman or something, or somebody with a package. Except I didn’t order anything and everyone knows to just leave stuff at the steps.

  Maybe it’s one of the guys from the team? But it’s way too early for them and they don’t ring the bell just once. They bang on the door and ring it a thousand
times like some obnoxious teenagers while shouting my name.

  And it’s not my mom. She would have called first. So who the Hell could it be besides her?

  It has to be her.

  A smile comes over my face as I set the bowl down and head for the front door. This is going better than I’d expected. Just one day ago I was all nerves, freaking the fuck out about what to do with her and where things were going to go, and now it feels like everything is just falling into place – like we’re completely vibing on the same wavelength.

  I should have known how she felt about me and that things would all work out in the end. If she’s driving over here it’s definitely good news. There’s no way she’d come all this way to tell me she didn’t want to be with me. She’d just wait for me to come by and then break it to me.

  Smiling like a goofy teenage boy, I pull the door open—

  And almost have a heart attack.

  Chapter 20

  Janelle

  I didn’t sleep at all last night.

  But it’s not because I was upset. Quite the opposite in fact. I mean, aside from Max waking up every couple of hours, I couldn’t get my mind off of Chris, and even if I did manage to drift off for a quick nap, I was dreaming about him. I just can’t shake him, and I think it’s time to realize that I don’t want to.

  Give him a chance, I tell myself as I sit on the back steps watching Max pick up the football I’ve just thrown to him.

  He really is his father’s son. He’s way more athletic and capable than the other boys his age. He catches the ball at least two times out of three when I throw it to him and his throws back aren’t wild and uncontrolled. Each time I throw it to him, he catches it, throws it back and I catch it, he giggles in a way that sends my heart soaring every time.

  If only Chris were here to see this…

  The thought just comes to me as though someone else said it, and I realize just how true it is. Not only would he love to see this, but I’d love to see him see it. It makes me wonder what kind of father he would be. Would he be expressive and outspoken, or reserved and quiet, letting his son figure things out slowly and on his own?