5. June
FIVE
June
I get it. It’s a legitimate concern. When I found out I was pregnant, I cried on and off for about two weeks. It was my senior year of college, and instead of figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I was becoming a mom—a very single mom. I wasn’t ready to be in charge of another person. Heck, most of the time I had trouble taking care of myself.
I was absolutely petrified.
But then Oliver was born, and somehow we managed to get through each day. Some had more tears than others, his and mine, but we survived. We had each other and he didn’t know how absolutely clueless I was.
No one ever tells you this, but being a parent is like walking around a Lego minefield in the dark with no shoes, desperately trying to find the light switch. Sometimes you’re lucky and you find the switch, and sometimes you get a little piece of plastic embedded in your foot.
Even after three years, I still get frazzled. I still make mistakes .
“I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Being a parent is mostly fear, and it’s a rare occasion where you realize you’ve done something right the first time. We’re lucky, though.” I look over at Oliver, a smile stretching across my face. “Oli is a great kid. Smart, thoughtful, and very rarely throws a tantrum.”
“He always this quiet?” Ryan’s brows scrunch together. “Can he talk okay?”
“He has a little trouble with V ’s, but trust me, he has his moments where he talks my ear off. He’s more of an observer. Unlike most people, he thinks before he talks.” My eyes widen and I reach out toward him. “Not saying that about you. Obviously I don’t know you and?—”
“June, it’s okay.” He covers my hand with one of his own. His thumb caresses the width of my palm, and a spark of electricity shoots down my spine.
My body is on high alert, my nerve endings zapping like a live wire, and I’m acutely aware of every millimeter of his skin that’s touching mine. His hands are rough, transporting me right back to our night together four years ago.
I loved how they felt on my body, palming my breasts, squeezing my nipples, and gripping my hips so tight I wore his bruises for days. He was rough when I needed him to be, gentle when he curled me into his chest and let me fall asleep—it was perfect—he was perfect. And fuck, he was the only man to ever make me come, to make me scream, to play my body so expertly I had no choice but to shatter around him until I barely knew my own name. He was relentless in his pursuit to give me a pleasure I’ve never felt before, to show me how it should be.
My eyes don’t leave his, and I can’t help but shift in my chair, rubbing my thighs together, trying desperately to give myself even the smallest reminder of what this man can do.
His hand tightens around mine, and his gaze falls to my lips.
I want to feel them on mine. On me.
I want to lose myself in this man, give in as pleasure incapacitates me and I’m no more than putty in his capable hands.
The air around us thickens, charged with an electricity I’ve never felt before. Not even then.
His blue eyes darken, reflecting a tropical storm, a sea of rioting emotions.
He leans toward me. My breath catches in my throat.
“Mom, can I have some water?”
I let out a squeak, pushing away from the table so fast the chair almost flies out from underneath me.
What the hell was that? Am I really that starved for affection that I’m ready to jump the bones of the first man who’s touched me in years? And not just any man, mind you. The father to my child. The freaking father to my child. Holy crap. Holy crap . I can’t do this. I can’t have a repeat of that night with him—even if he’s interested, which I’m sure he’s not.
No way.
If the crowd outside the stadium was any indication, he’s at least somewhat famous. Women want men like him to sign their tits, and mine have little stretch marks on the sides. Real sexy, huh? I don’t even think I own a good bra anymore. They’re mostly old nursing bras ... not that I want him to see them.
Dammit, June, get it together.
I wasn’t ready for a relationship last time Ryan and I were together, and I certainly don’t have time now. There’s barely enough time in the day for me to take care of myself .
Shuffling quickly into the kitchen, I glance behind me, making sure to look toward Oliver and not the tempting man sitting at my kitchen table. “Sure thing.”
I grab his dinosaur cup from the pantry, making sure to grab a glass for myself, and fill them both with water from the fridge. Before turning around and making my way to the living room, where I will inevitably have to meet Ryan’s gaze, I take a drink. And another. And another until my glass is empty and there’s water trickling down my chin.
“You okay, June?” Ryan’s voice is hesitant, and I whirl around, plastering the biggest smile I can muster across my face.
His jaw is tight, and his entire face is an unreadable mask. I have no idea whether everything I felt was one-sided or if he felt it too. It would be better for us both if that whole thing was in my head and my head only. He might be Oliver’s dad, but he’s still a stranger, and my life is already complicated. I don’t need the strings around us to become so crossed, so tight, they trap us both.
My hand tightens around the dino cup and I nod. “Never better.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow me the entire way into the living room. I can feel them on me, the awareness prickling along my skin.
Oliver takes the cup with a quiet “thank you” and sets it down on the coffee table. It’s time to turn around and finish our conversation, hoping to all things holy I’ve managed to tamp down the lust swimming through my veins and tainting my brain.
But I don’t get a chance.
Ryan is right behind me, his gaze volleying between Oliver and me. He runs a hand through his hair and down the side of his neck. “Can I talk to him?”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I nod, giving him a soft smile. “You’re taking this rather well.”
Oddly well. Maybe this is where Oliver gets his quiet reflection.
Ryan is taking everything in stride. Not once has he raised his voice or accused me of trapping him for the next fifteen years. After working in my mom’s law office, I’ve heard it all—everything from complete denial to raging disappointment that a woman can’t control the eggs moving down her fallopian tubes. That one’s my favorite.
I’m still impressed he showed up for us. I don’t imagine most guys would. But he’s here and that’s all that matters.
“Football. You can’t wear your emotions on the field.” He hesitates before sitting down on the floor next to him and points to the page. “What are you coloring?”
Oliver drops his crayon, his eyes widening slightly as he peers up at Ryan, who’s struggling to cross his legs and fit under the table. “Stegosaurus.”
“Do you like dinosaurs?”
“Are you for serious? They’re only my faborite.”
“Mine too. Especially the Tyrannosaurus rex.” Ryan glances toward me briefly before turning back to Oliver. “Did you know scientists think velociraptors had feathers? And were estimated to be about the size of chickens?”
Oliver takes a deep breath, and for a moment he looks at Ryan like he invented dinosaurs. “Yep, chickens with three-inch-long claws. ”
“Did you know most meat-eating dinosaurs walked on two legs?”
“Do you know the T. rex has the longest teeth?”
“The longest dinosaur was the length of four fire trucks.”
“The heabiest as much as sebenteen elephants.”
I sit in the recliner and take out my phone so I can at least pretend I’m not watching the two of them like a stalker. They go back and forth with a few more facts, each trying to top the other, before Oliver rips a page from the coloring book and asks Ryan if he wants to color. He doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing an orange crayon from the pile and getting to work.
Emotion swells in my chest, clogging my throat as I watch them. They’re both biting their bottom lip, heads tilted to the right as they concentrate on their different dinosaurs. Occasionally their eyes flit to mine, and the matching blue hues absolutely level me.
Had my mom not demanded I deliver those divorce papers to the football field, I’d have never run into Ryan.
I really did search for him for a long time, so long I didn’t think I’d ever find him. After I found out I was pregnant, I came back to Nashville for winter break. I went to that dang dive bar every chance I got. I asked the bartenders if they knew someone matching his description. Nothing. He never showed up, and none of the employees had a clue who I was talking about. Not sure I believed them, but I had no choice.
And then when I graduated from college, my mom moved me back from North Carolina to have the baby in a hospital she approved of, with a doctor she handpicked, in an apartment she rented for me. I haven’t had much free time, especially when Oliver was a baby, but I still managed to stop by the bar every so often. Poppy made sure one of our parents was on babysitting duty so we could go once a month.
Last year I’d given up hope.
I couldn’t sit there month after month, sipping on water and frantically looking at everyone who walked in. It wasn’t healthy, but I was grasping at straws trying to find Oliver’s dad.
Not that I couldn’t be a parent myself, I just couldn’t imagine Oliver having no idea who his dad was his entire life because I thought it would be fun not to exchange names before I let a stranger fuck me. And then the heartbreak if they did manage to find each other later in life? That would be brutal.
For both their sakes, I had to try as best as I could to find him, and for three years I did.
And now, due to some twist of fate delivered by the hands of my own domineering mother, I’ve found him—Ryan Devlin, who’s apparently a professional football player.
I may have been the one to suggest no names, but he had been happy to comply. No wonder. Girls probably threw themselves at him all the time, and I’m sure he’d thought I’d follow him home like a lost puppy.
Honestly, it really didn’t matter to me what his job was. Despite our amazing night together, I was in literal hell. I’d just found out my fiancé was cheating on me with his best friend and that our entire relationship had been a sham. I was nothing more than a cover so his parents wouldn’t find out his true sexual preference. My parents were pissed. The wedding guests were all disappointed they were robbed of their opportunity for free food and alcohol, and I spent the next week making sure all their gifts were returned with handwritten apology notes.
It took me a while to piece the fragments of my life back together .
I didn’t have time to think about my Prince Charming until I was back in North Carolina, struggling to finish my classes. The memories he gave me kept me going. They taught me I wasn’t as worthless as I thought, and then I found out I was pregnant.
Let me tell you, that was a fun conversation to have with my family. Especially, when everyone assumed Paul and I had been having sex for the months leading up to the wedding and that the baby was his. Telling them it was a virtual stranger went over as well as I thought it would—like a lead balloon.
Oliver drops his crayon on the table, stretching his little arms as he yawns.
“Sorry, that’s our cue for bath and bed.” I stand up, slipping my phone in my back pocket and giving Ryan an apologetic smile. “Oliver, say good night to Ryan and put away your coloring stuff.”
Oliver rips out another page from his book, handing the brightly colored T. rex to Ryan. “For you.”
Ryan stares at him for several seconds, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open before he visibly seems to shake himself and takes the page. “Thank you. This one’s for you. Thanks for letting me color.”
As Oliver nods, Ryan scoots out from under the table and pushes himself off the floor. His muscles bunch under his shirt, and instead of staring at them like I’d like to, I turn, walking toward the door. Toward safety. The last thing I need is to get sucked back into his orbit.
“He’s a good kid.” Ryan’s voice is rough. He shoves one hand in his pockets, the other holding the page Oliver gave him, and rocks back on his heels, his eyes darting everywhere but to me.
“The best.” My response is automatic, but it doesn’t make the words any less true. “So, I’m not going to lie and pretend I know what your life is like. I know nothing about football and even less about football players, but I’m assuming it’s something that keeps you busy.”
His eyes snap to mine, his brows drawing together, concern etched across his face. “It does.”
“Being a parent is a full-time responsibility.” I clasp my hands in front of me, twisting my fingers around each other. I take a breath and straighten my shoulders. While I don’t want to have this conversation, it needs to happen. We both need to lay our cards on the table, and if he decides to walk away, so be it. “I don’t expect you to immediately jump into Oliver’s life. This is a big decision, and I want you to be sure before you commit to being his dad. I need you to be sure. I need you to think about this, at least for a couple of days.”
“Okay.” He blows out a breath, running his hands through his hair. “I’ll think on it for a day or two, but I promise, I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t let my son grow up without knowing his dad. Where do I need to go for the paternity test?”
“I’ll text you the info.”
“I mean it, June. I know you don’t know me and have absolutely no reason to trust me, but I want to be involved.”
My breath catches and my heart beats wildly. I want to believe him, I really do, but an hour of contemplation isn’t enough to decide something that will affect him—us—for a lifetime. He got to color a page, but that hardly counts as fatherly experience. It’s one thing to be there for the good moments—the smiles, the laughs ... but when sleep is fleeting and the cries are frequent, that’s when he needs to show up .
Anyone can be there for the good times; parents make the most of the bad.
“He needs to be a priority, Ryan. He comes first no matter what.”
His nod is quick, his jaw clenching slightly. “He comes first.”
I hang my head, blowing out a breath. He sure knows the right things to say, but I can’t let it get my hopes up. Not yet. I’ll give him every opportunity and help however I can, but I can’t make him truly want this added responsibility. Only time will tell. “I’ll text you tonight after I get him to bed. Thanks for showing up.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he nods again. “I’m glad I did.” He slips out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, but before it closes, he calls out, “Good night, June.”
His words are innocent, yet they inch their way down my spine and have my entire body tingling.
It’s easy to imagine a world, a life, where I can explore these lingering feelings between us, where we can be a family, but I can’t get lost in the fantasy of things that can never be. We’re completely different people with different lives. Ryan is a professional athlete, and while I may not know everything it entails, I know he must have his life dedicated to football and must have worked his butt off to get where he is.
I’m a single mom with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice I don’t use, and I just opened my own yoga studio. I’m still working in my mom’s law office part-time to make sure I have money coming in, and if it weren’t for the two girls renting out my space for classes, I’d be hard-pressed to make my lease payments.
He’s living his dreams, and I’m still trying to get mine off the ground .
He’s cocky, confident, and skilled in areas I’ll never forget while I’m still learning how to stand up for myself.
Our lives, our personalities, we don’t have anything in common. Well, except Oliver.
And he’s why none of this matters. He’s why I’ll sacrifice everything to make sure he’s taken care of. I need to push Ryan out of my mind and pretend to be completely unaffected by him. I have to.