Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Chance
R owan and I didn’t speak on our way to her car after the ultrasound.
In truth, I was lost in my head, so it was handy she’d insisted on being the one to drive us into Nashville.
Once we were in the car, she started the engine, then said, “So I have a tradition. Are you in a hurry?”
“No.” It was early afternoon. We hadn’t had lunch yet, and I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to get my head into work once we returned to the office anyway.
“Are you okay, Chance?” she asked, studying me across the front seat.
I forced a smile and nodded. “Hungry actually.”
Her pretty eyes lit up. “I’ve got you.”
She pulled out of the parking garage and drove a couple of miles. When she turned onto Hale Street, my brows went up. Holden, Kemp, and I had been here several times to meet with Hunter Clayborne, the owner of Clayborne’s on the Corner, to talk beer. Before taking over his family’s bar, he’d been a brand manager for a brewery in Chicago. The dude knew his shit and was generous with his knowledge.
My eyes were on Hunter’s bar and grill as Rowan parallel parked on the opposite side of the street.
“Lunch?” I asked.
“Cupcakes.”
I realized we were parked directly in front of Sugar Babies Bakery, which was owned by Hunter’s wife, Kennedy, and two other women.
“Cupcakes aren’t lunch,” I said.
“They’re my tradition. I started coming here after each appointment when they opened a few years ago. My reward for the trauma of having my insides messed with in various torturous ways.”
I couldn’t fault that system. I’d been caught off guard when the ultrasound tech had wielded that wand. I didn’t remember Erin having anything so invasive with Sam.
Not only was I too hungry for just cupcakes, but Rowan needed all the nutrients and protein she could get. Last I knew, cupcakes weren’t good for that. “You’re nurturing a blueberry-size being in there. We can have cupcakes after we eat real food.”
She bit her lip and hesitated as if she’d actually thought a cupcake lunch was okay. “You’re mean.”
“Come on, Mama,” I said. “Time to be the grown-up.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “Where do you want to go?”
I pointed at Clayborne’s. “Have you been there before?”
She shook her head.
“Great burgers. Big menu. And I know the owner.”
As we crossed the street, I told her how Hunter had helped us with branding when Rusty Anchor had first opened. “Maybe you know his wife, Kennedy? She handles Henry’s marketing and is part owner of Sugar Babies.”
“I don’t, but if she’s responsible for that”—she gestured over her shoulder at the bakery—“she’s already my hero.”
We walked in the main door of Clayborne’s. Several tables were occupied, but there were open ones since it was well after the usual lunch hour. I led her to a high-top table tucked into a corner by the stairs.
Within two minutes, Hunter himself showed up at our table. “Hey, Chance. It’s good to see you.” He extended a hand, and I shook it.
“You too. This is Rowan Andrews. She works at the Anchor with me. Turns out she’s a fan of your wife’s bakery.”
Hunter smiled warmly as he and Rowan shook hands. “I am too. One of the many ways Kennedy won me over was by bringing me cupcakes.”
“I haven’t met her, but she seems pretty brilliant to me,” Rowan said.
“She is.”
“You waiting tables now?” I asked him.
He laughed. “Some days, but not today. Becca will be over in a minute to get your drink orders. I just stopped by to say hi. Thanks for coming in.”
“You bet,” I said before he headed up the stairs to his office.
Rowan and I ordered and made small talk, managing to completely ignore the life-changing appointment we’d just come from. I was grateful for shallow topics.
Once our burgers arrived, Rowan brought an end to the easiness by asking, “Chance, what’s going through your head?”
My brows shot up. “I’m hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. It was going on two p.m. Breakfast was a long time ago.
She took a bite, but I could tell she wasn’t appeased by my answer as she watched me thoughtfully.
“You’ve been tense since we left the clinic. Are you having second thoughts?”
I shook my head as I shoved my burger in my mouth. She continued to watch me, which told me I wasn’t going to get away with changing the subject. Didn’t mean I had to offer her more info.
“You were right. This burger is delicious,” she said. “And the pretzel bites… I might need to expand my tradition to pretzel bites with cheese sauce, then cupcakes.”
“What’s your favorite cupcake?” Maybe she’d forget to go back to questioning me.
“Last time I was in, they had a chocolate bourbon pecan pie that was memorable. Or there’s toasted s’mores, Oreo, turtle, butterscotch crunch… I can’t pick a favorite.”
“Do they have vanilla?” I asked dryly.
She stopped chewing and stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. After swallowing her food, she said, “I imagine so on some days. Is that what you’re going to get?”
I chuckled. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see what my choices are.”
“Their baker is creative. She dreams up amazing flavors. If you’ve changed your mind about the baby, you need to let me know, Chance.”
I took a drink to wash down the food that got stuck in my throat. Shaking my head, I said, “I haven’t changed my mind. I’m here for you, and I’ll be here for the baby.” The words came out with extra force and more emotion than I’d intended. Enough that Rowan tilted her head and studied me as she chewed her food.
“I come from a family that wasn’t supportive,” I said, delving into a topic I didn’t like discussing. “My dad is the head of surgery, and my mom is a neurosurgeon at the same hospital in St. Louis.”
Rowan’s brows shot up. “I’ve wondered about your family. Wondered if our baby would have a big one on your side, because it’s just me on this side.”
I shook my head. “Just my parents and my older brother, Devin. He’s a cardiologist, by the way.”
“Wow. You have a very medical family. Did you consider going into medicine?”
“Not once. I saw the downside from a front-row seat.”
“What’s the downside?”
“My parents’ careers completely dominate their lives. My brother and I were raised by nannies and babysitters while they both worked eighty-hour weeks. That’s not the kind of life I want, not for myself or for my kid. Kids,” I corrected.
Rowan frowned. “That sounds…extreme. And awful for you.”
I shrugged. “There were two or three good nannies in there, but yeah. Extreme is one word for it. Self-important is another. My dad has a god complex. Both of them do. They don’t have to work that much; they choose to. They’re a perfect match and at the top of their fields, but they never should’ve had kids.”
“Are you close to your brother?”
“Nope. He went their route. Workaholic, thinks the world can’t turn without him doing his thing. I haven’t talked to him in probably three years.”
“I’m sorry, Chance. That sounds like a tough childhood.”
I shook my head, let out a sardonic laugh. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I had everything a kid could want. All my needs were covered.”
“Except their time and affection,” she guessed, hitting the nail on the head.
“I’ve always sworn I’d be the opposite of them. My kid comes first. Only problem is my kid doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“That’s not true.”
“I don’t need her to want to hang out with me. I just feel perpetually helpless as a father. And then seeing that beating heart on the monitor today…” I shook my head, overcome as I remembered that moment. “When you first told me you were pregnant, it took a little while for it to sink in, but it did. Or I thought it did. Today was…more real. Like 3D real. Like how can I be a father of two when I’m fucking up royally with one?”
“You’re not fucking up.”
“It sure feels like it when my daughter hides in the basement and barely says two words during dinner.”
“She’s a teenager,” she said as if that was the end-all, be-all explanation for everything.
“That’s a copout.”
“I worked with teenagers for three years. They’re moody, self-centered, and everything causes angst. From what I’ve seen, Sam’s a good kid at the heart of everything.”
“She is. She’s so damn smart, Rowan. She’s always gotten straight A’s, but now that she’s in high school, when it really starts to matter…” I shook my head.
Rowan seemed to be thinking that over. “Adolescence is hard,” she said. “Especially for girls. Especially without a mom.”
“I’ve always tried to be both dad and mom to her.”
“I bet you’ve done an amazing job of it.”
I scoffed.
“You said it yourself. Certain topics are harder for a dad with a teenage girl. Have you ever grown boobs? Bled for several days a month?”
I cringed. “So, what, I shouldn’t even try?”
“You should always try. That doesn’t mean she’ll accept it.” She took a drink of her decaf coffee, set down her mug. “I was super close to my grandpa when I was little.” Her gaze went distant, and a smile crept over her lips. “He used to play ‘school’ with me.” She laughed. “He always let me be the teacher.”
The image of a pint-sized Rowan with a whiteboard made me smile.
“He played basketball with me too. Taught me some fundamentals. We played so many games of Horse. When puberty started though? I went to Gram for everything. I still loved Gramps dearly, but our relationship changed.”
“You and Sam bonded more in your first five minutes in our house than she and I have for months,” I said, beginning to understand her point.
“I can see that. Because fashion. Most boys don’t generally get it.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“My situation wasn’t like everyone else’s, but I know from my friends, mother-daughter relationships are unlike anything else. Moms drive their daughters nuts, but also daughters sometimes just need their moms. Or a mother figure. Gram was that for me. Someone to tell them no matter how exciting it is to get your first bra, it sucks to wear one for the rest of your life. Someone to assure them the heartache caused by an unrequited crush will pass.”
I realized I didn’t really know whether Sam was interested in boys yet. The little shit at the beach was the first one I’d heard about other than a crush a few months back, which I’d effectively discouraged. Did she have a crush on the beach jackass? Someone else? I didn’t ever ask anymore, because I knew I’d want to run him out of town if she did, whoever it was.
A mom would be different, I guessed.
“Maybe you could spend time with Sam…” I let my words trail off and shook my head, instantly regretting what I’d said.
“I’d love to get to know your daughter.”
“Getting to know her is fine, but I can’t ask you to do more than that. I can’t really even ask you to get to know her.”
“Sure you can. You’ve gone out of your way for me by giving me an affordable place to live.”
“I told you that wasn’t selfless.”
“Hanging out with Sam wouldn’t be selfless either. I happen to like teenagers. Connecting with one is one of the most rewarding feelings in the world for a teacher.”
“This isn’t a teacher-student relationship we’re talking about here.”
“No, and it’s not mother-daughter either. Maybe friendship. Maybe a female confidante. Maybe just another pesky adult in her space. Who knows how she’ll react? I’m not her mom, and I would never try to be, but I’d be happy to spend time with her if she’ll go for it.”
It was my turn to study her face, to see if I could discern any doubts or hesitation.
“You’d really be okay with that?”
She smiled genuinely. “Whatever Sam will go for, I’m up for it.”
I blew out a big breath. “I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
“Kind of like I don’t know how to thank you for letting me live almost rent-free. Let’s just call it even. You’re helping me. I’m helping you—potentially, if Sam will give it a chance.”
“If Sam will give it a chance, I’ll owe you everything.”
“You’ll owe me nothing, Chance. Even stephen. No arguing.”
I looked one more time for any sign of trepidation on her face, but there was none. “Okay. Thank you.”
As we finished our meal, we both became silent, lost in our thoughts. On the one hand, I was grateful and relieved she was taking an interest in my daughter. Maybe a female role model or friend was what Sam needed.
On the other hand, I couldn’t help thinking that, if Sam was receptive, this would intertwine our lives even more deeply, and that made me nervous as hell.