The thought is terrifying and welcoming all in one.
Annie scoffs again. “She slept with my husband! You think I’m going to let her raise my daughter?”
Hawks jaw clenches. “First off, she didn’t sleep with Brett and you know this. Second, she’s our daughter.”
“You’re not on her birth certificate, Hawk. You have no say.”
I see red. I want to ask this woman what her problem is, but before I can find the words, Hawk steps closer to her. I try to hang onto his hand, but it’s extremely awkward so I let it go and cross my arms over my chest.
“I know all about the fights, Annie. Matty has told me everything. And if you think I’m going to allow for her to live in fear, or that I’m not going to fight for my rights as her father, you have another think coming.”
“Brett will bury you.”
This time, it’s Hawk who scoffs.
Thirty-One
Hawk
The term, “get your affairs in order” is so broad, I’ve never really considered what it meant until now. My “affairs” currently consist of saying goodbye to my family and securing travel arrangements for Bellamy, Chase and Matty to come to the All-Star game. Even though I’m not playing, I think the experience will be fun for the kids. I also need to upload my work-out schedule for the BoRe’s to my calendar, highlight my projected return with my business manager . . . oh . . . and sue the shit out of Annie and Brett Larsen for custody of my daughter.
The latter, which is my focus, is a mountain I’m willing to climb. Is it the smartest thing to do, uprooting Matty from the only family she knows to move her across country and potentially have a nanny take care of her? Is growing up in a dugout the right thing for her? Maybe not, but it’s also not the safest situation for her to be living in that house with everything she’s told me.
Since the Sunday morning revelation, Matty has been with me twenty-four-seven. Annie didn’t even try to take her home once she left here. Bellamy and I thought Annie would come back, because no mother would leave their child behind. Matty tried not to let the hurt show, but I saw her watching out the window, waiting for her mom to pull into the driveway. I called Annie, but each time it went right to voicemail. This woman wasn’t even concerned about her daughter’s well-being and when Bellamy handed me a journal, I looked at her oddly until she said, “Document everything.”
All day, I paced with my phone to my ear, waiting for Annie to pick up. Bellamy gave me Brett’s number and it, too, went straight to voicemail. Maybe they were off trying to fix their marriage, which would be great, but not without some sort of notice or word to Matty. They’re her parents, they’re all she knows.
By the time dinner rolled around, we had made plans with my parents. Bellamy and I spoke earlier, and I told her I need my parents to know about Matty now, because there’s a possibility she may need to stay with them if things go south with Annie and Brett. Plus, they’re her grandparents and the three of them deserve to know each other. Telling my parents was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My mom cried and my father, in his typical fashion, sat there in silence. I thought he was going to get up and head outside, but when I saw him shed a tear, I started crying too. My mom held me, assured me everything would be okay. Would it? Would everything be fine once I return to Boston? How am I supposed to build a relationship with my daughter when she’s here and I’m there? We’ve already lost so much time. Time we will never get back. I will never understand how Annie could keep Matty from me. To not even give me a chance to be her father. I would’ve been home in the off-season, had her with me in Boston during the summer, and would’ve been her biggest cheerleader for whatever she was doing in her life. But no, I was dismissed before I was even given a chance.
After my parents, I went over to the Larsen’s. No one was home. No lights on. No cars in the driveway or in the garage. Nothing. I couldn’t believe it. When I returned to Bellamy’s, I found her and Matty wrapped in a blanket, watching what they referred to as “girly movies” and I was told to go hang out with Chase and play video games. He, too, said his mom and Matty were being girly, that they had even done each other’s nails earlier and he needed a man break. I was happy to oblige, but my focus was on my phone, waiting for someone . . . anyone . . . to call me back.
That night, we had dinner for the first time as a family with my parents and Bellamy’s mom. My parents didn’t make a big scene but brought Matty gifts and made sure she knew she could call them for anything. I fully expected the night to be awkward, but Chase somehow knew we need some humor. Along with Matty, the two of them kept us laughing with tales from school, the baseball field and the previous night’s game of flashlight tag.
As the night wore on, there was still no word from Annie or Brett. I couldn’t very well take her back to an empty house, so she stayed at Bellamy’s. I took the couch and laid there all night, wondering what my next move was going to be. I had no idea that I’d wake up to the next day, ready to fight for a girl who I barely knew, yet shared my DNA.
The man behind the mahogany desk is a friend of Bellamy’s. His father handles a lot of the real estate transactions and this guy is fresh out of law school by about two years. He specializes in divorce cases and while he didn’t handle Bellamy’s, she’s had to consult him a few times when it comes to Gregory.
“How do I file for custody?” I ask the second I sit down, forgetting my manners. Thankfully, he smiles and greets me, making me feel about two feet tall for my rudeness. We finally shake hands and make the necessary introductions.
Peter Smith straightens his tie and pulls himself closer to his desk. “Our fi
rst step is a DNA test.”
“And how do I get one of those?”
“It’s a simple cheek swab, and we can have the results back in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You and Matty can do it at the clinic.”
“Okay, and then what?”
“Then you’d file for visitation, custody and to have her birth certificate modified to show you as her father. We’d get a court date and go in front of a judge. I want to caution you though, with your salary, you’re looking at paying a fairly large sum of child support.”
“I don’t care about the money. How long does it take for all of this to happen?”
“Months. You live in Boston, right?”
“I do. I maintain a full-time residence there. My off-season is dependent on a lot of factors but normally from November until the end of January, I can be here.”
Smith jots something down on his yellow legal pad. “And your daughter’s biological mother lives in Richfield, right? If we can get her into court, we could have a simple agreement in place before you return to Boston. At least establish your paternity. I can represent you until there’s a hearing. Have you spoken to your ex about any of this?”