Fan-fucking-tastic.
I raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to explain. He let out a deep breath and gripped his armrests. She must’ve really upset him. “She was trying to prove a point to me. I have this rule against her dating football players, so when I brought up the rules…” He trailed off.
“I get it. You brought up the rules, and I was the fastest way to break one.”
He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts before confirming my suspicions. “Exactly, you were collateral damage to our, uh, disagreement. I do apologize.”
“No worries.” I dragged my hand through my spiky hair and shot him a grin. “Women, right?”
He smirked. “Right. Raising them is one hell of a challenge. I’ll tell you that much. You’ll see. It doesn’t get better after the teenage years. Although, that was also a mountain of fun.”
I blanched, realizing Harper was going to do shit like that to me. I had never really thought about it like that before. She had just turned 2. I was her hero. Everything I did was awesome. Mostly, anyway. As long as I did exactly what she wanted. “Good to know what I have to look forward to.”
I’d fucking kill any asshole who laid a hand on my daughter, but Richard didn’t look like he was about to kill me. He looked resigned, if anything. “Yeah, I’m sure that neither you nor I were easy to raise, but girls. They’re something else entirely.”
“I hear you,” I said, meaning it. I just had no desire to engage in any thoughts about my sweet little baby with football players. Or any other man, for that matter.
My fists clenched into balls at my sides, but I forced myself to forget about it. I had years before I had to worry about that kind of shit. Maybe I could just lock her away forever.
Richard’s voice pulled me from my dark thoughts. “So, speaking of daughters. How is your Harper doing?”
“She’s great. She made a new friend yesterday, not of the male variety.” I joked, hoping that it wasn’t too soon. Richard lightened up immediately and laughed. Clearly, the chat with his daughter had stressed him out, but he thawed a bit as we talked.
Richard had been surprisingly cool and supportive about the whole Harper situation. He’d actually been a big help. It was one of the things that strengthened the bond between us. I always sensed there was a story there he hadn’t told me about.
I had been able to put together bits and pieces from some of the stuff he’d told me over the years, but I didn’t know everything. Or how it all fit together.
Strangely, when he mentioned his daughter, I had imagined a preteen or a middle-schooler from the way he spoke about her. I definitely hadn’t thought he referred to a smoking hot 20-something.
“So, what did you want to talk about, James? I assume that you didn’t want to see me to commiserate about the joys of raising girls.” His sharp blue eyes studied me, looking like he was bracing for a blow.
“Yeah, it wasn’t. I always appreciate your interest and advice, though. I actually wanted to talk to you about next season.”
Richard tensed. “Okay, go ahead. What about it?” His jaw was tight.
“This season was bad, Richard. That last game was a disaster. I’ve been getting other offers, as you know.” I was always open with Richard. I hadn’t hidden any of the interest in me from him, especially not after his support with Harper. “The thing is. I want a ring, man, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen here.”
Richard leaned forward on his desk, placing his elbows at the edge and lacing his fingers together. “So, are you here to tell me that you’ve accepted one of the other offers?”
“No, but I’m thinking about it, if I’m being honest. I thought I’d come talk to you about making a counteroffer.” There it was. My cards were on the table. The ball was in his court.
Richard visibly relaxed. “So you’re asking for more money, but you’re staying with the team?”
“That’s about it the size of it, yeah. If you can make it worth my while, I would be willing to stay.” The truth was that I didn’t want to leave. Miami was my home, and it was Harper’s home, but if getting a ring and more money meant leaving, then at the very least, I had to consider it.
Two years ago, I would have been in here in a fucking heartbeat to throw my new team in Richard’s face before putting the Dolphins and Miami in my rearview mirror. I would probably have convinced Ryder to be sitting right there next to me, too.
Things had changed, though. God, how much things had changed. Harper’s well-being had to come first. I had made many sacrifices for her since she came into my life, and I would continue doing so until my dying day.
First, I had traded in my brand new Italian sports car for the Rover on the day that I decided that I wasn’t giving her up for adoption. Then, I had called up my realtor and bade farewell to my dream bachelor pad, buying a house in the fucking suburbs the very next week.
That was without even touching on the drastic and radical changes to my lifestyle. Mrs. W. helped out a lot, so I could still party and do my thing, but I never brought a girl home. And I never went on the rager trips to Vegas or out on the cruise ships.
Okay, maybe not never, but it didn’t happen that often anymore. When I’d stepped up, I thought I knew what I was signing up for. Any parent out there could have told me I had no fucking idea what it would really be like. No one ever knew until they experienced it for themselves.
So, I was winging it, and I wasn’t doing it badly. Not in my opinion, anyway. In my mind, it all boiled down to one thing. Whatever was best for Harper came first. Always. I hadn’t promised her that the first time I’d held her, as most fathers did, but I made that promise somewhere along the line.
To be fair, the first time I held her was about 10 minutes after I found out she existed. I was still in shock. I’d had to wrestle a crying infant from her car seat. I was a complete stranger to her. I didn’t have one single baby product in my home or any idea of what might comfort her. Hell, I didn’t even know where to locate that shit at the time.