30
SYLAS
I knew what would happen once people found out I have a kid.
My parents individually or together have been in the spotlight, especially Mom because of who she is. And because Thea and I are their kids, we’ve also been targets.
I’m used to being perceived, talked about, and judged for whatever I do and how I do it. Especially after my injury, the judgment grew louder, and suddenly everyone was an expert.
So I’m accustomed to the anxiety and pressure that has come with it, but Anna isn’t and despite her indifference about what is being said about her, I don’t like it.
Whether it’s people who hate me or those who have a strange parasocial relationship with me, they’re talking shit on my behalf or just because they despise me.
The news has garnered so much attention that I have the paparazzi outside the arena, waiting for practice to end so they can ask me questions.
The media taking interest would have happened regardless, but not to this magnitude. And it’s all thanks to my parents who have yet to make a statement.
I already did, first thing this morning before practice. If it had been up to me, I would have told everyone to fuck off, but Harlow didn’t agree with that response, so I wrote something more appropriate that my agent approved of.
She also told me that everything is being handled on her end, making sure if Rosie’s picture is taken, her face won’t be shown. And lastly, she reminded me to breathe, to stay away from social media, and that she’s proud of me.
I have to admit it felt good hearing that. My parents rarely shared genuine words of support, and when they did, it was to maintain their image for their friends and peers.
“Okay, so who is this girl? Did you really date her in college, or did they make that up?” Callan asks as we stretch on the ice before practice.
I roll my eyes. Since I arrived at the arena, my teammates have bombarded me with endless questions. I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore.
“No, they didn’t make it up. She was my girlfriend, but—”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Joey cuts me off. “Was? What the hell happened?”
“Did she cheat on you?” Andy, another teammate, questions as we switch from one leg to another.
“You kept reading the article?” Matias pins him with a look, shaking his head at him disapprovingly. “I told you not to…but did she?” he asks.
I roll my eyes again, thinking, Jesus Christ, it’s going to be a long practice. “No, she didn’t cheat.”
“Did you?” Callan cocks a brow.
No one stops what they’re doing, but their stretching slows, eyes laser-focused on me.
“No one cheated.” I’d cut my dick off before ever doing that to Anna. The moment I laid eyes on her, there was no one else. “I…”
“Damn…” Someone whistles.
“And the kid? When did this happen?”
“Jesus Christ, what is this, twenty questions?” Marc abruptly stops stretching. “Leave him alone. He just found out he’s a father and—”
“Holy shit, so they weren’t lying. You didn’t know?” Joey gapes at me, as do the rest of my teammates. “That’s fucking insane.”
“Okay, now you need to tell us what the hell happened. Because holy shit. If I found out I was a father, I’d be shitting myself.” Callan sounds horrified at the idea.
I know he has no desire for kids, so I get it, but I also don’t. Before Anna, I didn’t either, but when she came into my life, we talked about it, especially after she had that scare.
Coach Adler claps his hands, forcing our attention to him. “We’re not doing this gossip bullshit. It was already enough getting hassled as I was coming in. I don’t want to hear it, and I know Sylas doesn’t either.”
I give him a nod, grateful for intervening. I don’t mind talking to them, but I want to practice without having to hear the endless questions and see curious glances thrown my way.
“I know it’s not the same but Abby, my wife, had a cryptic pregnancy.
We didn’t know she was pregnant until she gave birth,” Matias mentions quietly as the guys continue to stretch and talk amongst themselves.
“I know it’s overwhelming at first, but it’ll get easier-ish with time.
If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.
I’ve only been a father for three years and I’m still figuring it out myself but I can help. ” He smiles proudly.
I’d vaguely seen something about it, but I hadn’t kept up with the news because I usually don’t and I’d been injured.
“Yeah, thanks.” I continue to stretch but pause as a question settles at the tip of my tongue. “How do you know if you’re being a good father? Actually, never mind, that’s a stupid—”
He laughs, and mirth shines in his eyes.
“It’d be stupid not to ask yourself that question.
Being a parent is a lot of work, but it’s rewarding.
Be mentally and physically present, don’t make promises you can’t keep because they remember everything, and just…
enjoy all the moments. They grow up fast, too fast. One moment, I was holding my eight-pound baby, then I blinked and now she’s a thirty-one-pound toddler. ”
Matias is only two years older than me, but I’m not surprised by his answer and how genuine he sounds. Marc has stated time and time again how humble he is, and I’m glad I’m getting to see it.
“Thanks, Matias.” I offer him a small smile.
I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until now. Or how much more confident I feel.
“Yeah, text or call me for anything. You have my number.”
Just a week ago, I was coming home at the end of the day to silence. The quiet became too much, and whatever I was feeling was irrelevant as I’d grab my cigarettes and head to the terrace. I’d smoke one, and a few minutes later, I’d find myself smoking another.
But now as I step off the elevator, I have no desire to do that, despite the anxiety I feel in my bones. The quiet days are long behind me as I hear music in the background, the sound of Rosie’s dog, and Anna chatting away to our daughter.
I saw her this morning, but we didn’t talk about what happened. In fact, I know she’d rather pretend it didn’t. But I don’t want to do that. I can’t. Not when I came last night as I stared at the wet spot on my thigh.
When I enter the kitchen, Anna’s there, placing a small piece of food in Rosie’s mouth.
“Mmm good.” She chews and bounces in her spot. “I want more.”
“That smells really good,” I announce, standing on the other side of the island.
“Sy!” Rosie bolts over to me.
I round the island, crouch down, and spread my arms. She jumps into them, wrapping her tiny fists around my neck. “Hola querida.” I stand, kissing the top of her head. “What are you eating?”
“Chicken.” She bears a toothy grin. I note the crumbs and oil that shine around her mouth, and when she pulls back, I see her hands haven’t fared any better.
“Oh yeah?” My gaze flickers to her mom who watches us with a tender expression on her beautiful face. “Hi, Anna.”
“Hey,” she replies, cracking a small smile. “I made chicken parmesan. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” My gaze dips to her mouth. I don’t mean to wet my lips, to think of hers on mine, imagine them on me again—tasting, savoring, feeling them.
“I’ll serve you a plate. We’re about to eat.”
Rosie pushes her arms to my chest. “I want down.”
When I do as she demands, she goes back to her mom, asking for another piece of chicken. I approach, standing next to her.
“What can I help with?” I want nothing more than to press her back to my front like I used to when we were in college.
“You can sit Rosie in her chair, and grab forks and drinks.”
“Is Maya going to eat?”
“No, she’s out and told me not to wait for her.”
I nod, picking Rosie up again. “God, how I’ve missed your cooking. I can’t wait to eat. Don’t be surprised if this doesn’t make it past tomorrow.”
I catch her smiling before I set to work. When we’re sitting down, my lips stretch wide. Rosie is busy stuffing her mouth, and Anna is silent as she cuts into her chicken.
“Are you going to eat or keep staring at me? Your food is getting cold.” A small divot creases between her brows.
“I’m going to do both,” I snark, and twirl a forkful of pasta.
She huffs a fatigued breath. “Sylas.”
“Anna.”
“Can you stop what you’re doing?”
“What am I doing?”
“Flirting or…whatever.”
“Why? Is it working?”
Her cheek twitches. “No. I told you last night—”
“We still need to talk about that.” I bring the fork to my mouth and release a moan, slouching in my chair. “Jesus, this is good.”
“We’re not talking about last night.” She’s forcing her lips to remain flat. I know because the corner of her mouth keeps jerking up as if they’re trying to curl up.
I chew and swallow. “So we’re pretending then?”
“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“We’re good about doing that, aren’t we?” I cock a brow, doing my best not to smirk.
Her gaze drops to her plate, but I don’t miss the dusting of pink on her cheeks. “I’m going to punch you.”
“Please do…” I tease, but then tone it down. “How was your day?”
She clicks her tongue. “It was fine. I had some people come in and ask if I was the girl the famous Sylas Lenoir Alves knocked up.”
I wince, guilt racking me. “I’m sorry about that. I posted online, begging everyone to calm down and leave you alone.”
She chuckles. “It’s okay. It wasn’t too crazy. Although, I did have some come in and want to ask me questions for their blogs or magazine or whatever. I told them to buy something or get out. Most of them did, and a few left and said they’d come back later.” She rolls her eyes.
I reach for her hand but stop halfway. “I’m so sor—”
“Stop apologizing. I promise I’m okay. How was your day?”
Better now that I’m home with you, I’d say if I knew it wouldn’t make things weird for her. “Good, but better now.” We lock eyes. My brain screams to shut up, shouting that Rosie is just a few inches away, but I can’t shut my mouth fast enough. “I can’t pretend. I know you want to, but I can’t.”
“Your persistence is annoying. Move on,” she drones, but her eyes don’t match her bored tone. “I have.”
I clench my jaw. “Have you now? Who is he?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she tosses out absentmindedly.
I narrow my eyes. “You didn’t seem like you had moved on last night.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was tired, I told you.”
I laugh, my knee bouncing under the table. “Is that right?”
She stuffs her mouth and nods.
I lean in, tracing the shape of her lips, breathing her in.
Quietly, I say, “No one knows your body like I do. No one understands what you like and how you like it.” I shift my leg, and the front of my foot taps hers.
Her eyes widen a little, but she doesn’t pull away.
“You may have moved on, but I know your body hasn’t.
I don’t care who you’ve been with because I know it still begs for mine the way my soul begs for you. ”
Her throat works a swallow, and I think she crosses one leg over the other as her foot hits my shin. “You were there. It was convenient.”
I grin. “You’re such a brat.”
“Just honest.” She licks her lips and takes a drink of her ice water.
“Are you squeezing your thighs together under the table?” I hedge, arching a brow.
Her legs shift again, hitting me again. “No.”
My cheek jerks at her response. “Are you being honest?”
Pink creeps up on her cheek. She wets her lips, but shakes her head. “I—”
She doesn’t reply, and I don’t ever get a response because Maya arrives.
I want Anna to be happy and if having Maya live here is the reason for it, then she can live here for as long as she wants. But damnit to hell, bad fucking timing.