Chapter eleven Scottie #2
“Jesus, Tiffany,” Mr. Harrison grates out. “This isn’t the time or the place to bring that up.”
“Why not? Your indiscretions are why our family is being torn apart!” Her voice carries in my small office, and suddenly, I fear that the point of this meeting is being lost.
I sympathize with the woman, I do. But mediating divorces is not part of my job description. My job is to hold the students at Carrington Cove Elementary accountable for their behavior and celebrate their wins with them.
“Look, I know things are tough right now, but what Jaxon needs is stability. Here at school, there is only so much we can do for him, especially if his behavior is endangering the safety of students and staff.” I slide a paper across the desk toward them.
“This is the behavior contract we will be implementing, and here is a copy of the suspension paperwork,” I add, handing them another paper from the folder.
“Our seven-year-old is getting suspended! Are you happy with yourself?” Mrs. Harrison shouts at her soon-to-be ex-husband, launching from her chair, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and storming out of my office.
Mr. Harrison releases a long breath. “I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.”
“It’s okay.” But I secretly wish I could tell you what I really feel about you. Jackass. “But my biggest concern is your son. We care about Jaxon and want to give him the best shot at being successful, but his behavior cannot continue like this.”
Mr. Harrison nods as he stands. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”
As I watch him leave, I slump back in my chair and let out the breath I’d been holding.
Just being around that energy dredges up memories of my own divorce—how Andrew tried to shift the blame, how Chase acted out at first when he realized his dad wasn’t coming home anymore—though, those last few years, Andrew was hardly around anyway.
I close my eyes and rub my stomach, feeling a bubble-like sensation move across my belly. My memory of feeling Chase move for the first time while pregnant with him is fuzzy, but my body remembers it well.
“Hey there, little one,” I whisper, peering down at my growing bump that is becoming more difficult to hide.
I know they say you show faster with your second pregnancy, but I was hoping I’d get at least a few more weeks before needing a new wardrobe.
My old maternity clothes are long gone, and even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be in fashion now, given that my last pregnancy was fifteen years ago.
The moment of nostalgia is interrupted by the buzz of my phone vibrating across the desk, flashing Andrew’s name.
I hit ignore, not caring if he knows I sent him to voicemail, and then wake up my computer, anxious to catch up on emails.
His calls are becoming more frequent, which can only mean one thing.
But a knock on the door stops me before my thoughts can wander too far.
“Come in.”
The man who walks in is the last person I expected to see—and definitely not someone I should be this pleased to see.
“What—what are you doing here?”
“Are you busy?” Grady asks as he enters my office, making it feel way smaller than it is.
He’s dressed in blue jeans and a plain olive-green shirt, his light brown hair freshly cut.
My ovaries jump for joy at his appearance, but my brain whips them back into submission, reminding my entire nervous system that we aren’t allowed to react to him like that.
“Uh, well…” I start, but he doesn’t wait for me to finish, taking a seat on the other side of my desk. “I’m—I’m working, Grady.”
“I know. I just…” He lifts the bag he’s carrying and places it on my desk. “I brought you some stuff I thought you could use.”
I arch a brow at him. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
He glares at me. “I know you didn’t, Scottie. I’m taking care of you, like I said I would.”
My brain wants to protest further, but my heart lurches at his gesture. And at that exact moment, I feel that flutter of bubbles move across my belly, as if our baby is aware of its daddy’s presence.
I reach for the bag and peer inside, puzzled by the assortment of items it contains.
“I finished my second book,” he says as I start extracting items and placing them on the desk.
“What the hell was this book about?”
“How to care for your pregnant wife.”
My eyes snap up to meet his. “But I’m not…”
“My wife. I know, Scottie,” he says a little too harshly, but I let it slide. “But you are carrying my child, which means I’m still responsible for you. So, I brought you a few things to make work easier as you get bigger.”
Rolling my eyes at the reminder that my waistline is expanding by the minute, I pull an apple fritter from the bag and inhale the aroma of sugar and cinnamon. “Nice touch.”
“I thought that might make you happy. You’re still craving them?”
I don’t want to admit that I’ve eaten five of them this week, but I’m sure Astrid already told him. “Yeah, that hasn’t changed, thankfully.”
“Good. The other things should help with aches and pains.”
I stare at the heat patches, eucalyptus oil, cushions for my shoes, and pregnancy herbal tea. “This is…”
“There’s also a book for you to read,” he adds as I pull out the book and fight the urge to roll my eyes again.
“The big book of baby names?”
“Yup. I already have some ideas, but I figured I’d let you do some research of your own before we have that discussion.”
A wave of emotion comes over me. “You—you have names picked out?” How does this man manage to surprise me at every turn?
“A few, but I’m open to compromising.”
Suddenly, I’m reminded of how many discussions we’ve yet to have about our child and everything that comes next. This man went out of his way to bring me things, say the right things, and make me feel things—and that’s a big fucking problem.
The reality of it all hits me, and I quickly shove everything back into the bag, eager to get space from him. “Well, thank you for this, but I really wish you would have waited until I wasn’t at work.”
His brow furrows. “Is it a problem that I’m here?”
“I just…” I scoff, gesturing around the office.
“I’m working, Grady! I’ve had a shitty day and it’s only halfway over.
I just had to suspend a second grader for throwing a chair in the classroom, and I have another parent meeting later about a bullying situation with our sixth graders.
” I place the bag in the corner of my office by my bookshelf.
“This isn’t the place for pregnancy talk, or… ”
He clears his throat as he stands. “Fine. I get it. It won’t happen again.”
I can see the hurt lurking under the surface of his deep blue eyes, but he has to understand that there are boundaries. We’re not together. This is something that a boyfriend or husband would do, and he is neither of those things.
But God, what would it be like if he were?
“Thank you.”
“But you need to understand something, Scottie,” he says, moving closer to me instead of the door. When he’s only a few inches from me, he tips my chin up with two of his fingers and places his other hand on my bump, drawing a gasp from me.
It’s the first time he’s touched me—while pregnant, that is—and my body is eager for more instantly. A wave of security wafts through me, like I can let my guard down just because he’s near.
But the truth is, he’s the person I need it for the most.
“You can pretend like you are mad at me for being here, but I think you’re just scared to accept my help and care,” he says, making me feel like he can see right through me.
“All I keep wondering is if I’m doing enough for you, if there’s something you need that I can give you because I feel helpless in this situation, and I hate that fucking feeling.
I can’t grow our kid, Scottie.” He shakes his head with a pinch in his brow.
“I can’t fucking help you with that, but I can take care of you, so that’s what I’m going to do.
And you. Can’t. Stop. Me.” He punctuates the last four words, making his point clear.
“You need ice cream at midnight? Text me. You want your feet rubbed after a long day? I’ll be at your house in fifteen minutes.
And if you need anything else to help you relax,” he says with a suggestive smirk, “I can help with that too.” Licking his lips, he drops his eyes to my mouth and then back up to my gaze before saying, “Eagerly.”
My knees threaten to buckle and my mouth gets dry before I swallow hard to coat my throat. I dart out my tongue to lick my lips, hating how his eyes dip right to the sight again, making me wish he’d just kiss me, toss me onto my desk, and fuck me into next week.
The hormones are increasing in my body at an alarming rate. I knew it earlier this week when I whipped out my vibrator and got myself off twice before I passed out the other night.
“Thank you,” I say instead, knowing he at least deserves that from me.
The corner of his mouth lifts and then he takes a step back, satisfied with himself and the law he just laid down. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, at six. Chase will be there.” Tomorrow is Wednesday, so my son is scheduled to work at the garage again. It seems to be working out well around his baseball practices and games, the last of which they won last night.
“Okay. See you then.”
Grady leaves my office finally, giving me a moment to breathe before Alaina comes sauntering in. “Uh, was that Grady Reynolds?”
“Yeah.” I sigh, moving back to my seat as I plop down in my chair, rubbing my stomach again.
“What was he doing here?” she asks, looking borderline starstruck. And I guess when a former MLB player moves back to the small town he grew up in, he is a little like a celebrity.
“Grady is my baby’s father,” I reply, gesturing to my bump.
Alaina’s eyes go wide. “Damn, girl.”
“Yeah. We, uh, were good friends in high school, and now…”
Alaina smirks. “So I take it he’s taking his role in all of this seriously?”
“Ha. Yeah, a little too seriously.” I point to the bag on the floor. “He dropped off a care package.”
“Jesus. Marry him, Scottie,” she declares, catching me off guard before snapping her fingers. “Marry him right now.”
“What?”
“You’d be crazy not to. I mean, do you know how many single women in this town throw themselves at him every day?”
Just the mention of other women going after Grady has my pulse spiking. “Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah. It’s embarrassing, really. I once saw him in the grocery store, and some woman ran her cart into a display of soda, knocking the entire thing over because I swear, she was trying to do the bend and snap from Legally Blonde to catch his attention.”
I snort, and not in a classy way. Once I get ahold of myself, I reply, “I’m not going to marry the man just because I’m pregnant, Alaina.” Been there, done that.
She fakes a pout. “But you’d be living out the dream.”
“What dream?”
“The one where you marry the guy who was always just your friend, who also happens to be a famous former athlete, and is smoking hot, and then knocked you up one hot, steamy night together, tying you to one another for all eternity when you were really meant to be together all along.”
I laugh at her. “That’s the dream?”
“I mean, it’s a mix of a few, for sure.” She shrugs with a smile on her lips.
“My goal is to keep things as simple as I can, and that means no feelings and no marrying Grady.”
Her lips curl up into a knowing grin. “Fine. But I’ll tell you this—any man that stops by your work to bring you a care package so you’re comfortable while you’re carrying his child…
is not a man that just wants to be your friend.
” With an arch of her brow, she exits my office and leaves my mind spinning even more than it already was.
I try to get back to work, try to focus on my job, but it’s useless, especially as I inhale the apple fritter for lunch, and glance back at pictures on my phone from Chase’s game yesterday.
Most of them are of my son, but I’m ashamed to say I snapped a few of Grady too—his baseball cap covering his eyes, his arms bulging against the sleeves of his jersey, his strong hands clapping as the boys made plays and smoked the other team.
A bolt of lust travels down my spine and straight between my legs as I scroll back through those pictures, but then a warmth spreads through my chest when I realize how extraordinary his gesture was, just like Alaina said.
I do want Grady. I’m fully aware of that.
But I don’t need him to take care of me—because if he does, I’ll start wanting more. And wanting something I can’t have will only complicate this already tricky situation.