Chapter 7 #2
“Is it messy?” she continues her line of questioning.
“Can be. I need to use a lot of flour.”
“Can I help?”
My eyes immediately find Spencer who is avoiding my gaze. I look between them both, and I’m not sure no is really an option right now.
“Sure. But you might need to change. I would hate to ruin your ballet outfit.”
“Getting her to change hasn’t been a winning point today,” he mutters.
Hadley bounces up in her chair. “Can I throw the flour?”
I laugh as I set up the machine. “Maybe not throw, but you can help me roll.”
“Okay.” She jumps off the stool and runs in the direction of the stairs. I make a mental note that I need to figure out which bedroom is hers. I’m going to assume it’s the one near Spencer’s that I thought was a door to a linen closet, because I seem to think Spencer has a gazillion closets.
A clearing throat draws my attention to Spencer.
“She isn’t great with listening or eating,” he states. “You also don’t need to be afraid to say no.”
“Duly noted.”
Awkward silence floats between us, and I hate it. “Any news on the situation?”
He shakes his head. “No. An injunction was issued, and I have confidence in my lawyer. If she says not to worry, then I won’t worry.”
For some reason, I trust his words, and I should question that more.
“Who hacked you?”
“Probably the same guy who hacked a teammate and wants money. He might not even have the video and is waiting to see if we'll call his bluff. He sent us each a message, but I didn’t answer, only had my team check it out. I’m not the first famous person to have this happen.
I don’t know more, but since it isn’t just me then the lawyers actually have a better chance. ”
“Right.” Why am I too calm about this? I should want to know every detail. Instead, I begin my quest around the kitchen for items that we got at the grocery store yesterday.
“Aren’t you going to ask?” Apparently, Spencer notices my focus is on other topics.
I play it cool, but I am bursting at the seams. “Okay. What’s the story with Hadley?” I grab a bowl from the shelf.
“She’s mine.” There is strong conviction in his voice.
“Got that when she announced you were her daddy.”
“Our relationship is a struggle sometimes due to my career,” he mentions, and it pulls a pin on the grenade inside of me that sometimes surfaces.
I set the bowl down with a bit of force because the bomb inside me just detonated. “Putting your career first? My God, are you one of those guys who just hands the kid off to the nanny? Why am I not surprised.” I scoff.
Spencer steps forward and grabs my arm, pulling me to him and taking my other arm too. “No. I’m. Not.” He seems offended. “What the hell. You just want to think the worst of me.”
I close my eyes, and I recognize my own insecurity and how I’m out of line. Opening my lids, I own up to my error. “I’m sorry. My biological dad isn’t in the picture.”
He loosens his grip on my arms. “Right. I forgot about that.”
It’s not a hidden fact that my mom used sperm donation so she could experience motherhood when she had nobody in her life because she was married to her career and felt she didn’t have much time left on her clock.
“As much as I think it’s great that I am the product of sperm donation and my mom was able to have me, because she is a great mom, I can’t help but be slightly mad at Mr. Anonymous because he doesn’t want to know who I am.
” It’s the sore point of my life. Part of me is thankful that he gave the gift to my mom, otherwise I wouldn’t exist. The other part of me simply can’t comprehend why he wouldn’t want to know who his child or children are.
“I get that. But it’s not the same situation.” Letting go of me, we don’t take a step apart.
“What is the situation?”
“I’ve always been in her life,” he states, and it feels like he has a point he wants to prove.
“Okay.”
He walks to the fridge and grabs a beer. “Just trust me, I love her like a father should.”
My breath catches because his words strike me in an unusual way. But before I can speak, the sound of feet running down the stairs draws our attention to Hadley in leggings and a t-shirt, closing the opportunity for more questions.
“Can I have an apron?” she requests as she runs to the counter. It seems more of a demand that she throws at Spencer.
“You mean please?” he corrects her with eyes that feel like a warning.
I shake my head, accepting that the conversation Spencer and I just had needs to be replaced by focus on Hadley’s entertainment.
Spencer looks to me as he begins his journey to where I would assume he hides aprons.
I try to take in the information that Spencer just told me, but questions are still popping up, and I don’t have time to think because a little girl claps her hands together to get my attention.
“Why are you staying here?” she asks curiously as she investigates the items I set on the counter.
I debate how to answer because I’m beginning to wonder if the original reason is the most important factor anymore.
“Because…” I draw the word out, as I’m not sure how to answer. “Sometimes baseball players do something that requires their acquaintances to live in their house temporarily.”
“What’s an aquit, akee—”
“Acquaintance. Someone you know but who isn't close enough to be a friend.”
“So, you’re not our friend?” The little girl seems very confused.
I sigh, as explaining this to a child, I need to take the easy way out and lie. “I am a friend. And friends use friends’ expensive kitchens to cook.”
“How long are you staying?” she asks as I hand her a measuring cup.
“As long as it takes,” Spencer announces as he holds out aprons for Hadley and me.
Grabbing my dark apron, I notice his eyes are piercing with a sort of stormy command that irritates me.
Because my treacherous body has excitement swirling somewhere within me.