Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
DAYLEN
It’s early morning, and I left Kennedy peacefully sleeping in her bed with a note that I needed to get home to BJ. Chef Benny had a family obligation last night and couldn’t stay over. I didn’t want to miss out on being with Kennedy, but I need to get home to my other girl.
I’m sure Kennedy has a million team obligations today anyway.
She’s going to be all over the place with her magical championship-winning dunk and the franchise bringing home the trophy.
I’m excited about all the attention they’re about to receive.
It’s well-deserved. Those girls work their asses off.
I’m smiling, thinking of all the love she and her teammates are going to get from this often-fickle city, so I don’t see anyone hiding as I approach my front door.
My fingers are moving to my keypad when something flies by my head and hits my door hard before the sound of glass shattering reverberates in my ears and my neck is hit with the shrapnel. Ow, fuck, that hurt.
I turn around just in time to see a fist flying at my face before it lands on the corner of my eye. I go down like a sack of potatoes on my front stoop.
I blink a few times as the pain rattles around in my head and my vision runs blurry.
As things begin to refocus, I see Coach standing over me with glassy eyes, reeking of alcohol, still in the same clothes he was wearing when we flew home last night. His fists are in the air, primed for a fight.
“Get the fuck up, Humblecut,” he barks out. “I’m going to beat you senseless.”
I hold up my hand in surrender as I try to stand, but then he punches me in the stomach, which sends me back down to my ass. God damn, the fucker is strong.
Holding up my hand again, I wheeze, “Stop, Coach. Please.”
He remains in a fighting stance while his jaw tics. “I loved you like a son. How could you do this to me?” His voice cracks while he says that last bit as though he’s on the verge of crying.
“What? What did I do?” I ask, completely out of breath with blood trickling down my face and my eye starting to swell a bit, but my cheekbone took the brunt of the punch.
“Kennedy,” he grits out. “How dare you touch my daughter! Have you no honor? And…and…” his voice cracks again, “she’s pregnant?”
He drops his hands and begins sobbing. His pained eyes meet mine. “Why? Why would you treat her like one of your whores?” He punches his own chest. “My daughter. Why? Tell me. I need to know.”
My eyebrows crease. That’s what he thinks? That she’s just some random woman to me?
I stumble to my feet, maintaining a safe distance from him. Shaking my head, I quietly say, “You’ve got it wrong, Coach. It’s not like that at all. I lov—”
As the words are about to trickle out of my mouth, we both turn to the intruding sounds of a car screeching into my driveway. It’s Kennedy.
The car comes to an abrupt halt, and she runs out of it, staring wide-eyed at the situation. She takes in my bloody face and immediately moves to stand in front of me, yelling at her father, “What did you do to him?”
His finger trembles as he points at us. “He touched you. M…my daughter.”
“So what?” she screams. “That makes it okay to hit him? I’m an adult who can make her own decisions. Your solution is to attack him? Are you crazy?”
He looks down at her stomach and practically weeps, “You’re pregnant with his child?”
She nods as she leans her back against my front, reaches for my hand, and places it around her waist and over her stomach. “I am, and I love him.”
His face contorts in disgust. “Love him? This guy? The guy who has no respect for women? How could you be so stupid?”
My chest puffs at his word choice, and I spit out, “Don’t you dare call my wife stupid.”
His eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath. “Wife?”
Whoops. Guess he didn’t know that part.
Kennedy nods. “Yes, Dad. I’m his wife. We’re married. I love him, and he loves me. We’re having a baby, and I’m about five minutes away from moving in here with him.”
I perk up at that bit of information, the heaviness of this situation momentarily forgotten. “You are?” I ask excitedly.
She nods.
“Who invited you?” I joke. “I didn’t invite you to move into this house.”
She turns her head, and I see a small smile form on her lips. “BJ invited me.”
“In those exact words?” I inquire cheekily.
Her smile grows. “Yes,” she answers without hesitation, “in those exact words.”
“Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. She does love you.”
Coach’s face scrunches in confusion. “Who’s BJ?”
“My dog,” I answer.
Now he appears even more confused. I look at him. “Coach, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a long while. Months.”
“I asked him not to, Dad,” Kennedy interrupts. “He wanted to. I wasn’t ready to tell you about us. Be mad at me, not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter now. No one needs to be mad at anyone. This is a happy situation.” I look him directly in the eyes, trying to convey my sincerity. “I love her. I’m madly in love with her. She and our baby girl are everything to me. They’re my family.”
His shoulders fall in defeat. “W…when did you get married?” He looks at Kennedy with sadness written all over his face. “Who…who walked you down the aisle?”
“Pinky Punnathanathukunnele,” she deadpans.
“Pinky Parpanopolous? Who’s that?” he asks.
I bark out a laugh. “He didn’t technically walk you down the aisle.”
She nods. “True. I walked myself down…I think.”
Her stomach grumbles, and I run my hands up and down her arms. “You’re hungry, baby. Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll make you and BJ breakfast. We can fill your dad in on everything. Finally.” I whisper in her ear, “And I think your dad needs some food in his belly.”
She nods. “Okay. And we need to take care of your face.”
I squeeze her and then move my eyes to Coach’s. “Coach?” I look at him in question. “Will you come inside so we can talk about this with words not fists?”
He nods silently, clearly still in a bit of shock. He’s also not completely sober, stumbling a bit.
I open the door, and BJ comes flying toward me at warp speed, but ten feet before she gets to me, she stops short and then slowly makes her way to Kennedy, nuzzling her stomach.
I mumble, “Traitor,” and Kennedy giggles as she bends to kiss BJ’s head.
In a baby voice, she says, “It’s okay to love me most, baby girl.”
BJ coos under the adoration for a few seconds before she turns her head to Coach and growls viciously.
“BJ, bed!” I command.
She immediately turns and runs to her bed while Kennedy mouths, “So hot.”
I chuckle as the three of us make our way into my kitchen.
I grab various ingredients and food from the refrigerator to start cooking as Kennedy finds a plastic bag and fills it with ice.
While I’m at the stove cracking eggs, she places it over my eye while wiping the small amount of blood from my face with a damp washcloth.
I pull my head away. “I’m fine, babe.”
“You’re not fine. Your eye is swelling by the second. And it’s bleeding.” She returns the ice and cloth to my eye again, carefully tending to it.
I place my hand on her hip and peck her on the lips. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
She nods, solely focused on my eye, and mindlessly replies, “Always,” much to my delight.
I work on the eggs and bacon while she stands there and continues to carefully tend to my eye.
I motion my head toward the fruit. “Eat some fruit, baby. You have to get your daily dose of blueberries. It’s the only naturally occurring blue food.
It has vitamins you and Baby Girl Humblecut need that you can’t get anywhere else. ”
“Okay,” she replies compliantly.
Still holding the ice on my eye with one hand, she reaches over for the blueberries with her other hand, throwing a few in her mouth and then a few into mine. “You need them too. You have a big game this week.”
I take them into my mouth and then playfully nibble on her finger.
She gently moves some of my wild hair from my face. I scrunch my face a bit. “Sorry it’s so long and messy. I know you prefer it neat. I’ll get it cut today.”
She shakes he head. “It looks cute like this, but if you want it cut, I’ll do it for you.”
“Really?”
She nods, still focused on my eye. “Of course.”
Coach clears his throat as he stares at us. “What the fuck is happening here? You two are so…domestic. It’s unsettling.”
We both smile at each other. We are domestic, and I love it.
Kennedy turns to him. “Let me take care of his eye, and then we’ll talk. You don’t want it to swell so much that he can’t see the ball this weekend. He’s the best player on your team. You can’t afford to lose him.”
“You think I’m the best player?” I ask proudly.
She winks. “You know it, stud.”
Coach groans in annoyance at our banter. “Ugh, stop talking to each other like that.” He plops down on a chair at my kitchen table and tugs on his hair. “He’s a buffoon, Kennedy. He doesn’t take anything or anyone seriously. He treats women like objects.”
Kennedy’s lips tighten, and she aggressively points her finger at him. “Don’t talk like that about my husband. I’ll make you coffee to sober you up, but if you’re mean to my husband, I’m kicking you out of our house.”
He cowers under her scary gaze, but I’m just trying to play it cool, inwardly combusting over the fact that she called me her husband twice and referred to the house as ours.
I have zero chill and am unable to contain my smile. She glares at me. “Don’t look so damn happy. We don’t have a prenup. Half this shit is mine. And I’ll sue for custody of BJ.”
Now it’s Coach’s turn to smile. I think I might even catch a little laugh.
Ten minutes later, the four of us are sitting at the table eating breakfast. Coach motions his head toward BJ. “Your dog sits at the table with you?”
Kennedy rolls her eyes. “Why are people so shocked by this? Where else would she sit?”
I nod. “Right? What’s she supposed to do, eat off the floor like an animal?”