Trey

by Madden, A. M.

  My eyes followed the colorful artwork displayed, starting from the hemmed sleeve of his T-shirt and dancing over his flesh down to his wrists. There weren’t any markings on his hands except for the name Tara in bold uppercase letters on his ring finger.

  The reminder of the love that he had lost felt like a bucket of ice water over my head and snapped me back to my predicament. The man had lost his heart not long ago, and maybe this was his attempt to replace that loss with an adorable little girl that was half him.

  A scenario where Trey eventually slipped back into his old ways by jumping from one meaningless relationship to another could nourish his libido… but having Alivia in his life would be sure to nourish his broken heart.

  “What are your true intentions, Trey,” Debbie asked, vocalizing what I had been trying to figure out.

  He raised his brows before countering, “Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Not really.”

  Trey glanced up at where I still stood defensively and grinned. “Well, I want to get to know my daughter, I want her to know I’m her dad, and I want to have a relationship with her.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “Like I said, obvious.”

  Unfazed, Debbie shrugged before plowing on. “Regardless, have you ever seen a child projectile vomit?” That was random. My focus cut to Trey, who flinched ever so slightly before schooling his features. “It is quite a thing to see,” Debbie went on. “Like something out of The Exorcist, truly supernatural.”

  Trey’s eyes crinkled in the corners while he tried to fight his grin. “No, I can’t say I have. You have children who projectile often?”

  At his comment, Debbie’s cocky expression subtly changed to sadness. My friend had been trying to get pregnant for a few years now without luck. Needing to spare her the deluge of thoughts that always pricked at her self-worth whenever fertility came up, I blurted out, “As long as you’re staying, do you want something to drink?”

  Trey’s eyes darted between Debbie and me before he caught my gaze and held it for a few long moments. “Yeah. A water would be great.”

  Just before I took the few steps toward my refrigerator, I glanced at Debbie, whose features had already smoothed out and recalibrated.

  Hoping he wouldn’t say anything insensitive, I quickly grabbed him a bottle of water as Debbie asked, “Trey, would you like to come to dinner this Sunday?”

  “What?” he and I both blurted out at the same time.

  “I’d like you to meet my husband,” she said nonchalantly. “As long as you’ll be in Livi’s life, you may as well meet her godfather.”

  For the first time since arriving, Trey appeared uncomfortable. The forgotten bottle of water in my hand, he gripped the back of his neck, swallowed audibly, and frowned while Debbie stared him down with no mercy.

  And then, like a switch had been flipped inside his brain, he schooled his features and grinned. “Yeah, I’d love to,” he finally said. “I’ll bring the wine… for you folks. I don’t drink.”

  Chapter 9

  Trey

  The two pairs of eyes drilled through me as I kept my cool. A deluge of dread consumed me, but they had no idea as I sat, arrogantly appearing like I hadn’t a care in the world.

  But, shit… dinner?

  All I wanted was to spend time with my daughter. I had no desire to double-date my way into her life.

  Taking the bait, Debbie smiled at my offer. “Sounds good. Bring white. I’ll make my specialty, poached salmon.”

  Great… steamed fish.

  “Sounds delish,” I said around a dazzling smile before focusing my attention on Camilla. Both her hands strangled the defenseless water bottle with a white-knuckled grip. The longer I stared, the deeper her cheeks tinged a rosy hue that enhanced her bronzed skin tone. Combined with the way her big brown eyes caught mine and her tongue poked out to moisten those plump lips, a desire I hadn’t felt in ages began to overshadow my need to appear unaffected.

  There was no way to know what she was thinking. What had been obvious, though, was how the tension between our tethered gazes practically crackled and hissed in that small living room.

  Debbie looked at her watch before exchanging a silent conversation with Camilla. On Camilla’s nod, she said, “Well… I gotta go.” When she stood with her coffee in hand, I did the same. Thankfully, the interruption provided the opportunity to douse an electrical fire before it began. “I’ll have Camilla confirm the time once I speak to my husband.” Surprising me, she stepped into my personal space and hugged me with one arm. “I look forward to getting to know you, Trey.”

  Not feeling the same, I lied and said, “Same here.”

  That was until logic metaphorically smacked me on the back of the head, my inner voice reminding me that spending time with the “BFFs” seemed a small price to pay to get to know my daughter. And besides, I could be a charming fucker when I chose to be.

  While Camilla showed her friend out, and their whispered voices traveled up the stairwell into her small apartment, I tried to plot out a game plan that would soften Camilla’s heart. I could already tell I’d win Debbie over, and having her as an accomplice would help tremendously.

  The front door slammed shut, but the silence gave no indication if Camilla was still in the apartment or not. Assuming she’d stepped outside to continue her chat with Debbie, I stubbornly waited her out. Grabbing the bottle of water Camilla never handed over, I took a swig and resumed my place on her couch.

  After ten minutes had passed, I finally heard her trudging up the stairs. Her face appeared above the short wall separating the stairwell from her apartment.

  She again had her hair pulled up high into a ponytail, showcasing the slim line of her neck. The jeans she wore molded over her sexy curves, even as the bland beige T-shirt tried to offer an antidote in an unflattering baggy way. It was her bare feet, toenails painted a scarlet red, that balanced her out sensually.

  When she noticed I had made myself comfortable, the frown she sported deepened. “Look, Trey. You can’t keep dropping by without notice.”

  I nodded solemnly. “I understand.” Just as her scowl softened a bit, I added, “Consider this notice.”

  Instantly, fury flashed in her eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. Alivia is very impressionable right now. She questions everything and is smart enough to know you appearing out of the blue means something.”

  “It does mean something,” I argued stubbornly, needing to set her straight once and for all. Standing, I strode closer to where she stood and towered over her. “I missed the first six years of our daughter’s life.” When her mouth flapped open, I raised a hand. “Let me finish. I understand why I did, and maybe knowing she was my kid years ago wouldn’t have moved me the way it does today. But the fucking truth of it is—it moves me now. I want her in my life any way I can have her. You’re going to have to get used to that and live with it.”

  Expecting a fight, a shove, or even a few choice expletives, I couldn’t contain my shock when she quietly said, “I know.” Those mesmerizing deep-brown eyes searched my face as a small sigh escaped her lips.

  “Then why are you so difficult every time I see you?”

  “Because I feel like I’m losing control. Up until now I was all she had,” she responded through clenched teeth, her ire returning. “Every second of her precious life was on me. I was her world. But every day I gazed into her gorgeous blue eyes, the nagging truth of who her father was pecked at my subconscious. A constant reminder of you whenever I looked at my daughter—her father the rock star.”

  “Our daughter.”

  She didn’t bother to acknowledge my interruption. “You can’t blame me for being skeptical that you’ll step up and be able to slip into the role without challenge.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to convince her I could absolutely step up, mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure I could convince myself. But that didn’t give her the right to stop me from trying. As I stared down at he
r, and as she stared up at me, that crackle I’d felt earlier resumed with each silent second that ticked by.

  Having no idea what it was, I could only assume it was a mutual animosity neither one of us were willing to let go of.

  The sound of a key jiggling in the lock downstairs grabbed our attention. “Who’s that?”

  “Livi’s home. Debbie actually left to pick her up for me so I could talk some sense into you,” she said with a wry smirk.

  “Mommy?”

  “Up here, sweetie.” A series of thunderous stomps sounded that didn’t match the little pixie I knew Alivia to be.

  “Guess what?” she barked when both her pink Chucks landed on the living room floor with a final thump. Seeing her wearing a matching pink plaid dress and hair bows caused an automatic smile to spread on my face.

  The first thing she saw was the humongous Hello Kitty doll, which was still sitting where I’d planted it after I arrived. Her book bag landed with a thud as she pointed to the present. “What’s that?” Alivia’s pigtailed head swung toward us, revealing the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. “Is that for me?” Before we could answer, she sprang at me and hugged my legs. “Thank you, Trait. Thank you! I wanted her my whole life.”

  I chuckled at the theatrics, ignoring Camilla’s eye roll. “You’re welcome, Squirt. But my name is Trey.” Squatting until I was eye level, I tweaked her nose. “You can remember it this way—it rhymes with play. Because every time I see you, I’m going to bring you something to play—”

  “O… kay… Livi, go wash your hands, and you can have a snack.” Camilla took her hand and gently swung her body toward the hall.

  “Can Trey have a snack with me?”

  “Trey has to—”

  “I sure can,” I said, cutting Camilla off with a grin. “I can stay as long as you want me to.”

  “Yay!”

  When she bolted away, Camilla grabbed my arm. “Just because I conceded on you seeing her doesn’t mean we won’t have ground rules,” she whispered while jabbing my chest with a rigid finger.

  “What did I say that has your panties all twisted up?”

  “First…” She raised her pointer. “No more unannounced visits. I keep her on a schedule on weeknights, and I can already tell having you here riles her up, and that would make it harder to get her to bed on time. Then I’d have to deal with the consequences when she won’t wake up in the morning.”

  “Isn’t she in summer camp now?” When Camilla narrowed her eyes, I amended. “Gotcha… call first. Next?”

  “Secondly…” Her middle finger slid up. “You’re not bringing her a gift every time you visit.”

  “Can’t promise that,” I said with a firm shake of my head. “Next.”

  “Trey.”

  “Camilla.”

  It was adorable when she became angry. “Okay, let’s compromise. If you must bring her something, it has to be no more than ten dollars in value, and it has to be somewhat educational.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted on a shrug. “Anything else?”

  On the third point, she closed the distance and lowered her voice even further. “You’re just a friend that I used to know before she was born. I decide when she’s ready to know the truth, not you.”

  Personally, I was ready to tell Alivia now, but it wasn’t about me. “Fine,” I agreed, knowing if Camilla procrastinated on telling Alivia the truth for too long, I would most definitely pressure her or renege on that agreement.

  “Okay, I’m done,” Alivia announced before grabbing my hand and leading me to the tiny kitchen. “We can have a cookie or a cheese stick, but we have to have it with fruit.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Mommy’s rule.”

  “Well, Mommy is very smart,” I responded, throwing Camilla a wink, to which she mimicked our daughter’s eye roll. “But maybe she’ll let us have two cookies.”

  “Yes!” Alivia agreed, pressing her two hands together and pouting. “Please, Mommy?”

  “Pretty please?” I echoed, clamping my hands in the same fashion.

  The corner of Camilla’s top lip snarled a bit before she plastered on a fake smile. “Fine, but two small ones… the vanilla wafers.”

  “Yay!” As her mother shot daggers my way, Alivia dragged a chair closer to the cabinets and climbed up to retrieve her favorite cookie. “And I choose grapes. Is that okay, Trey?”

  “That’s perfect.”

  With our daughter’s attention focused on digging out four cookies from the box, I leaned closer to Camilla and whispered directly into her ear, “See… I can compromise.”

  Cookies and grapes led to unraveling the Hello Kitty doll from the three thousand twist ties that held it in its box. Once Alivia had scrolled through every saying and demanded I record a message, she propped the cat next to us as we began coloring.

  Alivia had dragged out a stack of books and a tiny suitcase full of crayons, plopping them down on the coffee table before passing me an animal book because it was the only one that she had a boy would like.

  It didn’t matter that Camilla sat quietly in the chair facing us—Alivia had plenty to say.

  “So why do you have so many drawings on your arms?” She had asked this question before, but this time I was prepared.

  “Well, when you’re a grown-up, sometimes you like to put pictures on your body of important things in your life. They’re called tattoos.”

  Her eyes focused on the arm that lay closest to her. With a scrunched forehead, she tentatively skimmed her small hand across the tribal border running around my wrist and then looked at her fingertips. “How come it doesn’t come off?” she asked, picking up a pink crayon to scribble across a flower on her page.

  “They use special crayons.”

  “Oh,” she said on a nod, like it all made sense. “I had a tattoo once, but it washed off in the bath. They didn’t use special crayons at the birthday party where I got it.”

  “What was it of?”

  “A unicorn. They’re magic.” Swapping out the pink crayon for a red one, she rushed on and said, “If it didn’t wash off, I probab-bully would be like a fairy princess now. I didn’t get a chance to wish that.”

  “Probably,” Camilla corrected.

  “That’s what I said, Mommy.” She sighed, resuming her coloring. This kid was a riot. I imagined swapping jokes with her, clean ones, of course. “When I become a princess, I want a white unicorn that flies so I can ride him everywhere.” I made a mental note to pick up unicorn toys before my next visit. “And when I get big, I’ll get a tattoo of a unicorn so it can’t wash off.” Suddenly, she dropped her crayon and asked, “Mommy, can Trey have dinner with us?”

  Not wanting to push my luck, I responded before Camilla could. “I need to go, but maybe I can have dinner with you the next time. How’s that?”

  “Okay. When?”

  “Um… Livi, it’s almost time for ballet. Can you go get changed? I’ll be in to help you in a few minutes.”

  “Oh, can Trey come to see me in ballet someday?”

  “I’d love to,” I answered for myself.

  “We’ll see,” Camilla countered. “Go on, or we’ll miss the bus.” Her tight smile remained plastered on her face while Alivia skipped out of the living room.

  “You take a bus?” Camilla waited a pause before she nodded. “I’ll drive you.”

  “In what?”

  “A car,” I said, stating the obvious.

  “You have a car?”

  “Well, I considered taking my horse and buggy here today, but I worried your neighbors wouldn’t appreciate him crapping on your street.”

  “Ha ha.” Standing, she folded her arms and raised a brow. “We’ll take the bus.”

  “Okay, but next time, I’ll take you. What days does she have ballet?”

  Ignoring my question, she fisted her hips and barked, “So you expect to just saunter into her class without drawing any kind of attention to yourself?” My frown proved I hadn’t thought that thr
ough. “Exactly.” I watched as she began pacing back and forth. “Trey, I think we need some definitive boundaries. As is, it won’t be long before one of my nosy neighbors notices you coming here. And then it’ll be a matter of time before the media figures out why.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” Relief finally smoothed the lines on her forehead. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll have lunch together while we iron out all the details.”

  I didn’t know if I should laugh or scoff at the way she once again rolled her eyes on a heavy sigh.

  Chapter 10

  Trey

  The moment I got back to my apartment I spent an hour researching the safest car on the market. My gut wanted to get her the newest top-of-the-line luxury vehicle, but knowing Camilla, she’d throw a fit over its impracticality. So instead I purchased a modest sedan that rated highest in safety while loading it up with every possible upgrade. I even paid the saleswoman to pick up and install the safest booster seat for Alivia.

  That night, I went to bed feeling overwhelmingly paternal. In a few days, my daughter would no longer need to take the bus wherever she went. That led to thoughts of all the places I wanted to take her one day.

  I imagined how Camilla would explain things to Alivia once we told her the truth. Upon hearing I was her father, I pictured those crystal-blue eyes widening in surprise. But before her sweet little mind could dwell on the negative of such a profound realization, I’d wrap her in my arms to settle any fears. I’d promise to protect her every day of her life. I’d be sure she knew how my life hadn’t been complete until that moment.