“I’m not a lot of athletes.” Sure, I’d been the good time guy. I was still a helluva ladies’ man back then.
But I also damn well knew what family was, thanks to my mom and the way she looked after all of us after my dad walked out.
I was not going to do that.
So, we agreed to raise Abby together as friends, as co-parents, and as equals.
A few years later, she met Jamie, a fellow surgeon, and married him. Abby and I went to their wedding together.
Now, in the doorway, I give Danielle a serious look. “It’s not only my job to take care of her. It’s my pleasure,” I tell her. “And you, if you need it.”
Danielle lets out a sigh of relief. “I never want to assume.”
“You’re a sweetheart, even if you prefer the Hawks. Glad you’re her mom,” I say, then I cup my hand over my mouth and call to Abby that I’m leaving.
She runs over and leaps into my arms, clutching me like a koala. “Bye, Daddy.”
“I’ll miss you, little bear. But I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
“Just like you did when I was one.” Abby stares up at me, her hazel eyes big and serious. “And I remember you sang Dolly Parton to me as a lullaby.”
Holy shit.
Does my kid have a weird-ass memory from being an infant? How is that possible?
I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Wait . . .”
Abby cracks up, swatting my shoulder. “Got you! Mommy told me you did that.”
“Dolly’s the best,” Danielle adds.
“That she is,” I agree, and then I tap Abby’s nose. “Let me know if you want to do gymnastics somewhere else in the fall.”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
“Take your time,” I say gently. But I know how much she loved it, so I hope she’ll want to go again.
She looks away briefly, then nods, resolute. “I will. And I’ll let you know. Promise.”
“Love you, little bear.”
“Love you too.”
I say goodbye, humming “Nine to Five” as I make my way across the city to a bowling alley to meet my buds.
For the next few hours, I have a blast throwing strikes and gutter-balls alike with my friends until, one by one, they peel off. As the clock ticks closer to ten, it’s just Cooper—my quarterback—and me, and we chat as we make our way out, passing the bar inside the bowling alley where my gaze catches on a woman in a formal white dress.
That’s odd enough to rate a look, but something about her feels achingly familiar.
Possibilities nag at me all the way to the exit then won’t let me leave.
At the door, I tell Cooper I’ll see him at training camp. “I swore I saw someone who looked familiar. I’ll catch you later. I need to go check on something.”
He lifts his chin in a goodbye. “See you at camp.”
I turn around, the blonde profile triggering a memory that tugs me back to the bar.
Could it be?
Is that . . . her?
A tingle of excitement coasts over my skin at the mere possibility.
When I reach the bar, I take a deep breath and look in, then I shake my head in amazement.
The woman in white is none other than someone who, seven years ago, I desperately wanted to see again.
And she’s wearing a wedding dress as she orders another shot of tequila.
3
Katie
A few hours earlier
* * *
No.
This is not happening.
This is a nightmare.
I’m seeing things.
As my stomach crawls up my throat, my brain tries to rearrange the picture in front of me.
They’re hugging? They’re planning a gift for me?
But I don’t want a gift.
I want my almost-husband.
Who is sucking another woman’s face.
“Are you . . .” I can’t go on. Emerson squeezes my arm, and the encouraging touch from someone I trust drives me on. My face burns as I gear up to try again and spit out, “Are you kidding me?”
The man in the tuxedo breaks the kiss, wrenching away from the woman in his arms.
My mother.
Bile rises in my throat once more. How could she? How could she actually do this?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, shake my head, but the reality doesn’t change. “I cannot believe you,” I say to the woman who gave birth to me. Emerson grips my arm tighter, helping me to get through this horror.
I am livid and devastated.
Ashamed and enraged.
Shocked and disgusted.
I never thought it possible to contain all these awful emotions at once. But then, I never imagined I’d find my fiancé making out with my about-to-be-officially-and-finally-estranged mother.
Fight-or-flight indecision holds me frozen. I need to get the hell out of here, but one thought echoes in my head and won’t let me leave.
Say something before you take off.
My mouth feels like glue. The woman who raised me just kissed the man I was going to marry.
I dig down deep, searching for the right words, in the right order, but come up empty.