Chapter 11 #2
A startled laugh bursts from my lips, breaking the tension. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smiles and I like it far too much. I want to stare at her, tell her too many things when she’s looking at me like that. So instead, I dip under the water and swim away until I feel her on my heels, taking my same path in the pool.
Popping out in the deep end, I tread until she breaks the surface as well. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Following you around this goddamn pool until you tell me the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
“The rest of the story. Why you don’t trust anyone with your son. Why you don’t trust me.” She uses her arms and legs far more than she needs to, just to stay upright in the water. “Also, I’m not a great swimmer, so if I drown, that’s on your conscience for life.”
“I do trust you.”
She stills, those green eyes going wide before she slowly starts to sink.
“All right, Michael Phelps.” Reaching out, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my body. “No need to sacrifice your life here. I’ll talk.”
Our legs tangle under the water, our skin sliding against one another.
The water is plenty warm, but I feel the line of goosebumps scatter up Miller’s spine underneath my palm.
Hand snaking around her hip, her legs hook around my waist, eyes slowly dipping to my lips because they’re far too close to hers.
I clear my throat, swimming us back to the shallow end.
When I reach the height she can stand, I still don’t let go. When she tries to remove her legs from my hips, I tighten my grip. She feels good. Too good. I truly have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a woman’s body on mine, but I don’t want it to end just yet.
“You trust me?” she whispers.
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“God, I have no idea. You’re like a bull in a china shop so maybe I’m just clear out of my mind.”
Slowly, I walk her back to the ledge, depositing her to sit, but I don’t leave. I stay standing between her open legs, my palms flat on the concrete bracketing them.
“Ask your questions.”
“Why have you fired every one of his nannies?” She doesn’t hesitate, but I do.
My head drops, Miller’s thighs right there in front of me, and I have to fist my hands to keep from touching them.
“Can I tell you why?” she quietly asks. “I think you want to stop playing baseball. I think you’re so worried you’re going to miss out on the big moments, that Max’s caretaker is going to be the first one to experience them.
I think you’re so hung up on what you did miss that you’re desperate not to miss any more. ”
Inhaling through my nose, I back away in the water because we’re far too close and she’s seeing far too much.
“I know what it’s like to notice your parents’ absence,” I tell her.
“The day I was drafted, Isaiah was the only one in the crowd for me, and it was the same thing when it was his turn. I was also the only one there for him when he got his driver’s license or when he had his heart broken for the first time.
The last thing I’ll ever be is an absentee dad.
I won’t miss the important stuff, and even more, I don’t want to miss the everyday, insignificant moments. I want them all.”
Silence falls over us as Miller kicks in the water, her foot brushing my leg.
Her typically confident demeanor turns soft. “Where were your parents?”
“My mom died.”
“So did mine.”
My eyes jerk to hers as she sits on the ledge.
“Cancer,” she says.
“Car accident.”
“And your dad?”
All right, that’s too much for tonight. “Long story.”
She seems to understand my need to change the subject. “You need to have a little fun in your life.”
A smile ticks up at the memories. “Trust me, my twenties were plenty fun. Once Isaiah was settled in the league, I lived it up. I was stupid and reckless, and I don’t need to go back to that now that I have a son to raise.”
“You don’t need to go back, but you could find a balance between then and now. Now, you’re all grumpy”—she lowers her voice, mimicking me—“‘I equally hate playing baseball and people who watch my kid.’”
“I don’t hate baseball. I love it, actually. I just hate that it takes me away from Max.”
“And the people who watch your kid?”
My mouth twitches. “To be determined.”
She laughs, smacking me in the chest with the back of her hand, but I catch it before she can pull away. “How old were you when your mom died?”
The tone in the air shifts again.
“Five.”
“Geez,” I exhale. “I didn’t realize Monty was so young when he lost his wife.”
“Oh, they were never married. Actually, they had only been seeing each other for about a year when my mom died.” Miller slips off the ledge, into the water between my body and the side of the pool. “He’s not my biological dad.”
What?
She swims away from me, but like she said, she’s not a great swimmer, so she doesn’t get far. She’s been chasing me in the pool all night, but for once, I’m the one determined to catch her.
“Keep talking,” I urge as she crests the water.
“He adopted me.” She wipes the water droplets from her face.
“The day before she died, my mom asked him to adopt me. It was a ridiculous thing to ask of him. He was twenty-five years old, playing professional baseball. I was simply his girlfriend’s kid, but he did it anyway.
My mom was a single mom, raised me on her own up until then.
My biological father was a one-night thing.
Monty adopted me, we changed my last name to his because she wanted us to.
He left the league and took a college coaching job to take care of me because I didn’t have anyone else.
It’s the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me, and I feel terrible about it. ”
I’m frozen in place, standing in the shallow end of the pool, stunned by the vulnerability Miller has never worn around me.
She uses humor to dissipate tense situations, but she’s not right now because Monty deserves a moment of recognition.
She wants me to understand how good he is. How important he is to her.
I fucking love that guy.
“He’s worried you’ll retire the same way he did,” she continues.
It’s something I think about daily. It would take away a lot of the stress I carry. Sure, I’d be giving up a career I love, but it’d be to do a job I love even more.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Take it from the child of someone who gave up exactly what you’re thinking of giving up. Max will live with that guilt for the rest of his life.”
This is why she came back last week. This must be what Monty told her to give me another chance.
“Miller, I’m exhausted. All the fucking time.”
“Let me help you. Let me help you find the balance.”
She’s serious about this, about the guilt she carries.
But why? I know Monty. I know the kind of man he is.
He’d give up everything for his kid, the same way I would.
How does she not get that? There’s a different kind of love that comes into your life when you have a child.
Monty didn’t sacrifice his career, he simply changed directions because of how much he loved that little girl.
So much so that he carries her softball photo to every away game so he can place it on his desk to see her.
Her eyes bounce between mine, pleading, but before I can answer, the blinding light from a flashlight roams over her face.
“Hey!” a security guard yells. “The pool is closed!”
Turning, I use my body to cover Miller’s, my back to her, partly to get the light off her face, but mostly because I feel real possessive seeing her in this little green bathing suit and I have no plans to share the view.
She falls into a fit of laughter behind me.
“Sorry about that!” I hold my hands up, out of the water. “We’ll go.”
Miller continues to giggle.
“I’m holding you responsible for this one, Montgomery. Here I am, spending one night with you and already getting in trouble.”
“Trust me,” she chuckles. “I have plans to get you in a whole lot more trouble than that.”
That’s exactly what I’m worried about.