Chapter 15
[Ford]
A week after my brother’s wedding, I’d returned to Sterling Falls for some unknown-to-me reason.
I could argue it was to get out of my house which I’d immediately put on the market when I’d returned to Chicago.
Felicity had demanded half the proceeds from the sale after all.
Thus, the battle began. Her true colors were starting to show, and they weren’t loyal to the red and royal blue of the Anchors, or even the metallic shade of my namesake.
No, Felicity’s favorite color was dollar-bill-green, and she wasn’t getting more than she deserved from me.
I could also argue that I’d returned to my hometown in hopes of seeing Cadence. This argument was a fight I contended with, and lost, repeatedly.
Cadence had a life that wasn’t in Sterling Falls.
One bigger than my own career. She’d returned to her glamorous experience of touring the country and performing for others.
I would never be able to compete with that glory.
As a newly single dad with three little girls, my priority had to be them while I finished out my contract with the Chicago Anchors.
I couldn’t even picture my life two years from now when the contract ended.
While I had Cadence’s phone number, neatly written on a blank piece of motel pad paper, I hadn’t reached out in all the months that had passed. I hadn’t known what to say.
Speaking of reaching out, what a nimrod I sounded like when I said such a thing to her.
“Daddy!”
That cry alone was the reason I had trouble focusing despite being pleased to hear from Cadence.
“Coming, June Bug.” I’d given into the nickname when she refused to respond to her given name. That little one is stubborn. And speaking of stubborn, she’s struggling to go to sleep.
“Junie, Daddy really needs you to go to sleep.”
“Want Ru-bee.” Ruby was the girls’ latest nanny.
We’d had three already in as many months.
The latest was someone I found in Arizona from a caretaker service willing to babysit at odd hours.
As a grandmotherly type, she’d been my best so far, because she didn’t spend her time trying to hit on me.
Married thirty-five years, and having raised five children, she was perfect, but she wasn’t here tonight.
“Dah-dee,” June whines and I pick her back up from the bed, sit in a glider chair in the corner of the room, and set her on my lap.
The position reminds me of when June was a baby.
She was so easy-going until she learned to hitch her leg over the crib railing and toss herself out of the thing.
She was going to be my adventurous one someday.
With her settled on my thighs and her head tucked against my shoulder, I press my feet on the floor, launching the chair into a soothing glide.
She already had a drink of water, been read three stories, given a second drink, used the bathroom, and finally I’d set her down hoping she could settle in on her own.
“Where Ru-bee?” she says around her thumb.
“Ruby went home tonight, like she does every night. She has her own family.” With her husband plus one daughter and son-in-law, and their three kids, along with a single son living in the same house, Ruby tells me coming to watch my three girls is a reprieve from the chaos.
During spring training, players often brought their wives or girlfriends to Arizona, renting places, or in the case of some, owning them outright.
Living near one another forms a family village of sorts.
Without Felicity present, Ruby had been entertaining and educating my girls while I had practice, training, and meetings.
I hated taking Zelle and Winnie out of school, but I also wasn’t ready to leave them for six weeks with a stranger.
Ruby had worked in an elementary school as an educational aide and helped the girls with their learning.
“My fam-wee.”
“Your family is Daddy, Winnie, Zelle, and you.”
“Mom-mee, too.”
Mommy, too, while technically I disagreed. Felicity will always be June’s mother but walking away from our sweet girls strips Felicity of the magnitude and importance of the title. She’s mother in name only.
“Where Mom-mee?”
Jesus. I tip back my head. I cannot have this conversation tonight.
However, our situation is only going to become more difficult when the girls attend a game and Felicity is present.
I could steel myself to the speculative gossip and the too-personal sports news articles, but I couldn’t always protect my girls, especially if they see their mother in the WAG section for wives and girlfriends, as Romero’s girlfriend.
Because Romero Valdez is also here. As our key shortstop, he was valuable to the team.
As a fellow teammate, I didn’t need to like him.
I didn’t want to speak to him. Such negativity sucked because that wasn’t typically my philosophy.
The team should be a second family; however, some guys were just closer than others.
I wouldn’t say that Romero reminded me of my relationship with Sebastian.
My dislike of Romero was nothing in comparison and when I saw Felicity in the parking lot waiting for him one afternoon, my anger grew triple-fold.
Most of the Anchors had my back. They saw Romero as a shit-stirrer and not a team player.
He was out for himself only when, as the saying goes, there is no ‘I’ in team.
As both a veteran of the red and blue, and a team captain, they followed my lead, and as a leader it was damn difficult to quell my dislike for one of us.
I hadn’t pressed charges yet for forgery, but I did worry that the quick divorce in the DR wasn’t legal and binding without my express permission.
I’d had to hire a lawyer, especially with the sale of the Chicago house, and Felicity’s verbal demand she deserved half the proceeds.
The girls and I had been fortunate to find another house near our original neighborhood to rent for the time being.
In the midst of this legal battle, some days on the field helped as a distraction.
Other days, catching sight of Romero, were a constant reminder of what I’d lost.
I don’t miss the fights with Felicity. What I missed was the idea of us. A family.
I couldn’t believe I’d been so easily seduced by her and then swindled.
As for Romero, I didn’t give him a thought one way or another.
He could fucking fuck off right back to the Dominican Republic for all I cared.
My only qualm with Felicity was the girls.
She didn’t want to see them. She couldn’t face what she’d done.
Qualm. Q.
Ha. Instantly I think of Cadence. Tequila Queen replaces Songbird as her contact in my phone.
“Mommy is—” What do I say? Not coming home. Not with us anymore. Never going to act like a mom.
I didn’t even know exactly what a mother should act like. I’d grown up without one, and the one woman who tried to be motherly, Trudy Wallace, our father had shunned, stating he could raise his own children without her meddling. Trudy had been our mother’s best friend.
He might have said he’d raise us but lifting us up had not been his calling.
Most of us took to raising ourselves, finding our own niche, until Stone returned.
I’ve always been grateful for sports and the generosity of coaches.
Stone was especially giving when I was fourteen, purchasing new sports equipment when I went through a growth spurt.
I’d do everything I could to prove that my girls did not need Felicity. They had me.
As my mouth falls open in hopes some explanation will follow the deep exhale, June’s thumb falls out of her mouth and I glance down to see her eyes closed, her head heavy.
I lean forward and kiss her blond curls, inhaling her baby shampoo scent before tipping back my head again, continuing to glide in the chair and hold my youngest girl.
+ + +
Sometime in the middle of the night, I wake with a start, clutch June to my chest and take a deep breath.
I’d fallen asleep holding her and I thank all the gods I didn’t drop her.
Gingerly standing, I creep quietly to her bed and lay her down, bringing the covers up and over her little body.
After a soft kiss to her forehead, I exit her room, double checking that the nightlight is on, and the door is open just enough but not too much for her.
After a peek on Zelle and Winnie, I head to my room and collapse on the bed. Sitting upright again, I tug off my shirt and slip off my shorts, then lay back down on top of the comforter. Suddenly, I’m wide awake after the four-hour nap I took while holding June.
I’d like to call Cadence but when I reach for my phone, I note the time. I also read back through our messages. I sound stupid. My flirting game is literally in left field. At one time, I didn’t have to work to get a woman in my bed. Then I met Felicity and I thought we clicked.
Holding my phone against my forehead a second, I sigh, wiping away thoughts of my ex.
Instead, a vision of Cadence appears. That purple dress hugging her body. The column of her neck. Her lush lips.
I might have stalked her Instagram. Taken note of various outfits. Sought out any images of her with someone. Thankfully, there’s no evidence of anyone in her life.
Cowboy.
I chuckle at the nickname. Nothing is further from the truth, but I still like how the nickname makes me feel special.
Closing my eyes, I run my fingertips down my chest, stroking up and down my sternum. Cadence is quirky, like I said. A lady-boss at other times. I recall her stern tone telling me to apologize to her.
What if she told me to touch myself?
I slide my hand further down my body, noting the rise already in my boxer briefs. I can hardly remember the last time I was this wound up. Might have been the morning I woke up to an empty bed, absent of Cadence beside me.
What if she’d reached around my body and cupped me that morning?
I shove down my boxer briefs, setting my dick free from restraint and take a deep breath. Opening my legs a bit, I slip my hand up my cock, giving the hard length a tug before fisting myself. I should use lotion or spit but I’m already stone stiff.
What if she climbed over me in that purple dress, letting the silk material kiss my skin before tugging it upward and exposing herself to me. Showing me glistening folds and her perky tits.
A deep grunt escapes me, and I squeeze harder at myself.
Then I stop.
How many thousands of creeps jerk off to images of her. Fantasizing about her just like I am.
“Fuck,” I groan, releasing myself and rolling face down on my bed. The position doesn’t help as I envision her beneath me. The friction of my cock against the firm mattress makes things worse. With a rapid push upward, I spring from the bed.
If Cadence had really been present, I’d take my time with her. Learn every curve. Memorize every gasp. I’d know for certain if she was pink. And think. Could she love me?
I rid my brain of the impossibility and head to the shower for an ice-cold dose of reality.