Fumbled (Playbook #2)(49)
“Sadie.” I drag out her name as I peel her hands off my face and bring them down to her sides, not letting go because, clearly, this topic has stolen the little bit of self-control she has. “Calm down.”
“How the fuck can I be calm? How are you so calm? TK Moore is your baby daddy and now he’s actually your baby daddy! Are you even going to work at HERS? Are you going to move in with him? Are you going to become one of the lunching bitches who takes tennis lessons?”
“First of all, please never say ‘baby daddy’ again.” Gross. “And anyway, he’s always been Ace’s dad. Ace is nine. TK’s DNA didn’t just magically jump into Ace while he was sleeping the other night.”
Sadie opens her mouth to interrupt, but my death stare and squeeze of her hands halt her words.
“To answer your other insane questions. Yes, I’m going to work at HERS. I haven’t even started yet, how could I already be thinking of quitting? No, I’m not moving in with him. And definitely no to becoming a lady who lunches and plays tennis. TK is back for Ace, not me,” I reassure her. Even though I might take back the no-tennis declaration. I really would like to learn how to play, it looks like a lot of fun.
“But you are going to start collecting child support, right? Because your baby . . .” She stops when I accidentally emit a low growl. “I mean, Ace’s dad is loaded. You’ve been doing it on your own for nine years, it’d be nice if he helped out.”
“I really haven’t even thought that far ahead. Child support means court, court means lawyers, lawyers mean money I don’t have much of.” I take a deep breath and whisper my fears out loud for the first time. “Things between us are going really well. I don’t know if I want to rock the boat. If he were to go to court for custody, who are they going to give it to? The single mom who didn’t inform the father about their child? Or TK Moore, Denver’s golden child whose house could probably swallow my house without chewing? I just don’t want to take any chances.”
“I don’t agree because you deserve a helping hand.” Sadie wiggles her hands free from mine and pulls me in for a hug. “But I understand. Fingers crossed he does the right thing without you having to ask him.”
“Now . . .” I point to the wine sitting untouched on my table and try to change the subject. “Ace is gone and I did a lot of peopling today, let’s drink and see if there are any new episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race on.”
“That right there?” Sadie says, grabbing her glass of wine. “That’s why we’re friends.”
Not the highest standards, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.
Twenty-one
“Hi, Miss Jane!” Ace calls out as he darts past her and runs straight to the stairs leading to the Mustang practice fields.
This journey out to Dove Valley almost made the mayhem of yesterday fade away.
Almost.
There is still a big crowd and more than one drunk idiot stumbling across the street, but the masses didn’t come out in full force this evening. Plus, knowing where to park kept my stress levels from rising above a four.
“I take it he enjoyed himself yesterday?” Jane asks with a smile that makes her already kind face even warmer.
“You could say that,” I say. “You could also say it was the absolute best day of his life, which is what he’s told anybody who’d listen to him for the past twenty-four hours.”
“That’s just wonderful.” She tucks her clipboard under her arm and claps. “What about you? Did you have fun?”
I think for a minute before answering, “I did.” I tell her the truth and I’m still a little surprised by my answer.
Jane’s smile is smaller this time, but there’s understanding and quiet support in her eyes. “I thought you would.”
I return her smile and make my way to the family tent. The hesitation and fear I felt yesterday are missing and in their place is excitement at a chance to talk with Vonnie and Charli and watch Ace run wild with his new friends.
And to see TK in his football pants, but that’s a given.
I walk through the opening in the air-conditioned tent and spot Charli and Vonnie sitting at the same table we were at yesterday. I also note that Dixie and her friends, all wearing caked-on makeup, cleavage-revealing tank tops, and skintight jeans, are at least in flats today. I mean, they’re covered with the intertwining C’s of Chanel and G’s of Gucci with coordinating handbags slung over their shoulders, but at least I’m not the only one not rocking five-inch heels.
“Hey, girl!” Vonnie calls across the tent, drawing Dixie’s attention my way. I watch with avid fascination as her smile transforms from actual happiness to a plastic one that does nothing to conceal her disdain toward me.
I aim a smile almost as fake as hers in her direction before waving to Vonnie and maneuvering around tables.
“Hey!” I flop onto the hard, plastic-backed chair. “I didn’t know if you guys were going to be here.”
“Me and my crew will be at every practice unless there’s been a grave or critical injury.” She lifts a water bottle to her red-painted lips. “I need them to work out their energy someplace that’s not my just-been-cleaned house . . . because, I swear, all I fucking do is clean up for them to make an even bigger mess.”