“Thomas,” she said with her eyes shooting those beautiful blue daggers and her kitten claws set to castrate, “this is Timmy.”
“That's Timmy?” I said, unable to hide my astonishment.
Then my entire body went cold, and my stomach lurched.
The kid wasn't like a newborn, not that I had much experience with babies at all, but he was sitting up in Nicole's arms and looking at me, and I knew that little babies couldn't hold their heads up. He was looking around from face to face like he was trying to figure out what was going on, too.
Timelines started flashing through my head.
Nicole had been partying after her division championship.
Division championships were typically the end of the fall season.
If she…if she got…
Fuck.
“Is he…is he yours?” I looked at her eyes and was in full-blown panic mode. What if this kid was hers? What if she had a baby from one of those fuckheads? What if…what if she was planning to raise a kid when she got out of high school?
What the fuck would I do about that?
I'd fucking help her. That's what I'd do.
Images flashed through my head in rapid succession: Nicole and I with little Timmy on walks in the park with her pushing a stroller; taking picnics on her living room floor with him crawling around us; seeing him get a little older and taking him to the beach; teaching him to kick a ball into a goal.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Nicole shrieked at me. “Of course not! I'm just helping Sophie!”
For a second, I was disappointed.
Then my higher cognitive functioning kicked in, and I was seriously fucking relieved.
“Nicole, you need to stop talking,” Ron said with his deep, ominous voice.
“Ron, please!” She turned to him, and her eyes begged. “He won't tell anyone. I swear he won't. Will you?”
She turned back to me, and I could only nod as I tried to wrap my head around whatever the fuck was going on. Ron glared at her.
“That's between you and Sophie,” Ron finally said. “But you keep your mouth shut until she gets home.”
Nicole sighed and looked back at me again.
“Go home, Thomas,” she said after a moment. “I am seriously fucking pissed at you, and when I'm done here, I'll be at your house to set some fucking limits. You got it?”
Ron snickered again.
I already hated the fucker.
But I couldn't be too pissed because even though she was obviously really mad at me, she said she was going to come and talk about it. Hopefully, that meant I was at least going to be offered my three shakes.
Or was it time to castle?
Fuck.
How do you play these games when the rules don't make any fucking sense?
At least she wasn’t showing me a red card. Not yet, anyway. I could handle a booking as long as it was just the cautionary yellow.
“Okay,” I said quietly.