Life was the important thing here. The chance for Sophie to have a first day at school, a first love, prom, college, maybe children of her own. Money wasn’t important when life was the most precious thing of all.
“Mr. Bailey, welcome aboard,” a woman greeted me and offered her hand. “Louisa James, Rebels hockey. Come this way.”
I followed her to a group of seats, four that faced each other, with a small table in between. Sophie was wide-eyed, cautious, but she allowed me to settle her in a seat and fasten her belt. She didn’t want to let go of me fully as I awkwardly belted up and then leaned into her so she could hold my hand.
“Dadda?” she asked, which was her stock word for “what is happening, why am I here, explain it to me!”
“It’s all okay, pumpkin,” I whispered, then kissed her head.
“M’kay.”
“She’s a cutie,” Louisa observed, and her smile was genuine. Sophie was a cutie, and I could see my sister in her smile.
“Thank you.”
“So, I’ll leave you alone, but if you need anything, I’ll be near the front.” She indicated to the cockpit where I could see the two pilots chatting. This wasn’t like real life. This was unreal. “Snacks and drinks will arrive once we’re in the air, but if little Sophie wants to run around, then it’s a secure space here.”
The rest of the flight passed in a complete blur. Sophie was intrigued, grumpy, sparky, then exhausted in the space of the three-plus hour flight, and sleeping was thankfully her current state as we landed. Her being asleep meant I could handle everything that was being thrown at us. There was another private car, only this time the driver didn’t speak to me as he opened the door and I clambered in to find a booster seat already there. Instead, Louisa was talking to me—at me—and through all of this, I held Sophie’s hand as she dozed. It turned out it wasn’t just Sophie who needed to feel the touch.
“The Boston Rebels are pleased to welcome you to Boston,” Louisa began and then went into the whole speech about the pedigree of the hockey team and integrity and trust, and then when she was finished, she handed me a file. “A standard NDA,” she said. I took the folder before I realized what I was doing.
“Why do I need to sign this?”
She pursed her lips, then examined me thoughtfully. “It’s for your and Sophie’s protection. In this city, the Rebels are a big thing. The fact that one of our players has matched to Sophie has yet to hit the media, but when it does, you may find out to your detriment how passionate our fans can be.” She was holding something back, so I opened the file, scanned the information, and noticed that it had several paragraphs on paternity along with secret-keeping.
“And this bit about paternal responsibility?”
“Protection for our team should you sue in a paternity case as this could become an unreasonable situation. It’s standard wording in our NDAs.”
I thrust the folder back. “My daughter is dying. I don’t give a rat’s ass about publicity or paternity. I want her to live. I won’t tell anyone.”
“It’s considered that—”
“I won’t be signing anything without a lawyer, and if this causes an issue, then I will force the position in the media myself. There’s a match for Sophie, and that is all I’m here for.”
“That’s your choice.”
Louisa nodded, and that was all we said for the remainder of the short journey to a private hospital. When we pulled up outside, she touched my arm as I moved to unbuckle Sophie.
“I do wish you and Sophie all the best, Isaac.”
I thanked her because I was raised right, and then she guided me in through the wide front entrance and into the cool interior of a place nothing like I’d been in before. The clinic wasn’t some vast place catering to the public. It had a calm and rarefied air to it, and the thick carpet made our footsteps whisper quiet. Where was the stark white, the people sitting waiting, the bustle of purpose?
Louisa led me straight past a receptionist who smiled at me and down a long corridor lined with photos that I assumed was Boston. I didn’t know the city well, only that it wasn’t Florida, and that was all that was important. Boston meant hope for Sophie, so it was the best place on Earth right now.
She opened a door and gestured for me to enter. I walked into the room and noticed a few sofas, a wide desk, windows with views of a landscaped garden, and standing in the middle of the room was a man so stunning that I wondered what I’d walked into. He was taller than me by a head, well over six feet, broad shoulders, wearing a suit and tie, and he was so pale that I thought he might keel over. His dark golden hair was neatly styled, a soft tumble of layers that had seen a better haircut than mine ever would, and he didn’t move one inch, his mouth open and his eyes wide.
His dark hazel eyes.
No one had to tell me that this was Sophie’s biological father. I could see it in his eyes and the shape of his face, but mainly in the shock and horror he had in his expression. He knew he’d had a baby with my sister, and it had hit him as hard as it hit me.
“Is that her?” he exclaimed, then went from pale to scarlet in an instant. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say… Joachim Löfgren.” I thought I detected an accent, but couldn’t place it. European, I guess, although I wasn’t an expert. He held out a hand, and we shook.
“Isaac Bailey,” I replied, and as soon as we dropped hands, I took a few steps back from him.
“Is this… this…” He was at a loss for words, and I could see a hundred emotions churning in his expression. Shock was one of them. I would like to think I could see confusion and maybe sadness also, but was I projecting my own emotions onto him? For all I knew, he could be furious that he’d created a child with Ashley. He could start demanding to know why she hadn’t told him or why she hadn’t gotten rid of the baby. I didn’t know him, and I didn’t know what he was capable of.
“This is Sophie,” I murmured and smiled down at her when she shifted in my arms, clearly fed up with being carried.
“Down, Dadda,” she demanded, and fuck, I didn’t want to let her go, but she’d spotted the toys in one corner, so how could I keep her from the toys. She wasn’t interested in Joachim, and why would she be? He was just another stranger in her life that would pass through like so many others.
I went to a crouch, allowed her to slip from my hold, and she headed straight for the toys, her diapered butt a soft cushion as she went straight to the floor to pile bricks.
“Should she be doing that?” Joachim asked hurriedly. “What about germs, and I don’t know, illness.”
I could go into a long debate about why she wasn’t isolated, about why her life was going along as usual until… she left us.
At first, I said nothing.
“She’s fine,” I said, and I sounded tired even to myself.
“I didn’t know,” he said after a moment’s pause. Here it comes, the dismissal of responsibility. I waited for him to announce we could have his blood but that I shouldn’t remind him he had a baby. I imagined we would be dismissed, then Sophie and I could get what we needed and go back to Florida.