My lip curls at not only her insinuation, but by calling me an unknown. Like I’m dirt. Or someone not worth knowing here. She must see what she’s done by my expression because she throws her hands up.
“I’m not trying to offend you. Or hurt you. Maybe I’m not explaining everything clearly and for that, forgive me, it’s been kind of a whirlwind few hours.”
“Tell me about it.”
She cracks a smile and takes a drink. “You seem nice, Paisley. But can you understand why one of us would want to come over and at least ask you to keep this news to yourself? Let Mikah get settled. He’ll have to announce it at some point. He’s known as rather, well… he’s known on the team at least as this, well, innocent kid. Byron and the guys who have been playing for awhile like to think of themselves as his big brothers. We’re just looking out for him.”
He is young. He’s never once seemed innocent to me though. Way too handsome and hot to be that. And yet there’s his blushing and uncertainty.
I can see her point. It’s not like I’ve ever paid attention to professional athletes to know how big of a deal they are, but I’m not stupid. I know they get attention.
“I won’t say anything. You can reassure him, and I will too the next time I see him.”
“He’s called the team lawyer. Byron insisted. I’m pretty sure he should call the cops or something, maybe DHS? I’m not really sure so to be further honest, I’m not sure we’re handling it the most legal way. Mikah wants to keep it quiet so the lawyer said he’ll see what he can do.”
She doesn’t owe me further explanations. Yet, she has a point.
“I get it, Hannah, and I promise. My lips are sealed.” I mime a zipping motion across my lips. It’s less offensive to think of it this way and she has a point. Should I have called the cops or something? But how was I supposed to know? I was so thrown by the sight of a random baby in our hallway my only real thought was to get him to stop crying.
“Thank you.” She sighs and takes another sip of her wine. “It was really nice of you to help him out earlier. I have no idea what he would have done if he would have found Angelo first.” Another pause and then, a bigger smile. “He’s really cute, isn’t he?”
I’m assuming she’s talking about Angelo. But my mind first goes to Mikah.
“Yeah.” Regardless of who she means, they both are. And seeing Mikah hold Angelo the first time? Ovary explosion!
Enough.
And a professional hockey player? I come from such a small upbringing I can’t even fathom what his life is like. Trent’s the first person from either of my parents’ side who actually left Blandsford. It’s a small town closer to the coast, much more farming and trade schools than high rises and big cities and even bigger paychecks.
Perhaps I’ve been swept away with the luxury of Trent’s living and have forgotten myself. When I finish school, I plan on returning to Blandsford where I can make a difference in the small, farming community schools.
What in the world do I have to offer someone like Mikah?
“Thanks for stopping by.” I’ve surprised her by my abrupt tone and change in subject, but it can’t be helped. The realization has knocked all the wind from my sails. It’s probably best for everyone if Mikah and I go back to occasional nods while we duck behind our doors.
Hannah licks her lips like she has something else to say but whatever she must see on my face stops her. She takes one more sip of her wine and nods. “Thanks again for being there for him. I’ll see you around?”
“Sure.” Most likely, absolutely not.
I walk her to the door and tell her good night and when the door is closed behind me, I settle my back against it. All the insanity of the evening slides from my body and if it was visible, it’d be a pool of emotions jumbling at my feet.
I need sleep and to forget tonight ever happened.
The problem is once I do finally fall asleep, hours later, after tossing and turning, I swear I’m awakened by the quiet sounds of a baby crying and my dreams are filled with strollers and diapers and baby laughs and handsome smiles that come from the guy across the hall.
The guy who I’ve crushed on for months, and who now, will probably never be mine.
Chapter Seven
Mikah
* * *
I suck at everything parenting and baby related. I’m still in the clothes I threw on Friday night in a hurry. I haven’t had time to take a shower. I’m not sure when the last time I ate was… probably when Byron and Hannah brought food. I’m certain I haven’t brushed my teeth since yesterday.
Angelo hates me. He has to with the way he cries regardless of how I try to take care of him.
Hannah was nice enough to stay Friday night. She slept in my guest room in case I needed her and three times she came in when he was crying. But I was already awake because I seem to wake up every time he makes a noise. And he makes a lot of them.
When she left Saturday, she could not hide the worry on her face. She was worried about leaving me home alone with my son.
And isn’t that a slapshot to the face without a mask on?
Byron called yesterday afternoon on the rare occasion Angelo was sleeping, but I was too tired myself to answer. I laid on the couch, too sore and worn out to move. My muscles ached. I didn’t have the energy to lift my arm to reach my cell phone two small feet away.
Since then, I’ve been on the phone with my agent, the team coach, and a lawyer. Conversations that are hard to have with a baby who cries all day long.
He does like the swing sometimes. It’s a huge contraption. Navy blue seat with yellow ducks on it and sometimes a thing that spins around above his head grabs his attention. He likes his pacifier.
The note Angela wrote is correct. He doesn’t spit up much after he eats, but when he does… well, there is a stain on my living room rug and my home now smells like sour milk.
That could also, maybe be me, because he cries and spits when I hold him, and he cries when I set him down.
I am failing at this.
I am also angry that Paisley hasn’t come and checked on me. Perhaps she has plans. Maybe she works. But she said she’d be here all weekend and I haven’t seen her. Haven’t heard her leave, and I have spent time by my door, bouncing and swaying Angelo like she did so easily but all it does is make him cry harder.
I can’t even calm my baby correctly.
I am currently a sweaty mess, angry with my lawyer who says I’ll need a paternity test to determine he’s mine before anything else can happen… like getting me on his birth certificate and tracking down Angela to hurt her for doing this to me.
I am an ass for thinking such things but some warning… some help… that would have been nice.
Angelo is in his swing, unhappy at the world, perhaps screaming because he can’t stand the sight of me, and I’m trying… and failing… at getting some carrier contraption onto me. The straps keep twisting and my arms do not bend behind my back enough to fix them. Hannah said her kids loved being carried in this thing Byron bought me. I remember him carrying his babies like this when they were littler, so I figure I’ll give it a shot.