Page 23 of The Sacrifice
Gunner wrinkles his nose as the song from the overhead speakers switches to a country song. Dillon is overseeing the playlist today. “I’m not going to apologize for insulting you.”
“No need. It was my mistake.” Except, I’m starting to see Hadley as a bonus prize and not a mistake. As long as I don’t have to deal with Roxanne. “Anyway, she stopped by the house to tell me she was leaving town, going to live in Vegas, and taking the kid to social services.”
“What in the fuck?” His mouth drops open as he stares in disbelief. Gunner has a son who is the apple of his eye.
“She’s going to Vegas with her boyfriend, who doesn’t want kids, so she was giving her up.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I picked a fantastic baby momma. Anyway, I’ve contacted my attorney, who sent over a DNA test, and he’s got an investigator checking out her background. If the baby is mine, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure she never sees Roxanne again.”
“Perfect.”
Tony lets the Smith Cage weights clank into place and stands. It looks like I’ve got to start the conversation over from scratch. Maybe I should get on the PA and make an announcement.
“What’s up?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
I fill him in on the situation. After he responds to the story the same as Gunner, he clasps my shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
“No. My order for furniture is coming in today, and my best friend’s sister is my nanny. She was a nanny on the East Coast for four years.” And for all her faults, she’s excelled at the job.
Hadley’s cheeks have filled out, and she’s worn a different and clean pineapple onesie each day. The house is picked up, and there are never any traces that she exists. Which is highly irritating.
Where does she leave her shoes? Does she carry them through the house and upstairs? Mine are kicked off by the door, and every morning, they’re spaced one inch away from the wall and touching each other side-by-side.
“Are you sure? You know any of the guys or their wives would drop everything to come over to help you if you needed it. Any time. And don’t forget it.”
“Thanks.” I’m blessed to have these guys in my corner.
When I was spiraling out of control, they barged into my place, took me under their wings, and wouldn’t let go until I had my head out of my ass. My family thought I was a lost cause, but they didn’t.
“If I need something, I’ll let you know. Right now, I’m going to get her room fixed and wait for the results to come in. When they do, I’ll take the next step.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mia
“Sweet girl, come here.” I squat until I can grab Hadley from the makeshift bed and cradle her to my chest.
Her eyes light up, causing my heart to swell. By this point, I’m ignoring all the nanny rules. She’s the perfect baby. She rarely fusses, and when she does, it’s because she’s hungry or needs to be changed.
After leaving her room, I walk past the master bedroom. Don’t look.
Right. That’s like telling a drowning woman, not to doggy paddle. The door is open. What’s a girl supposed to do?
The room is tidy and clean. The bed is made and covered with a black comforter. The window treatments and wall colors are the same as my room. There aren’t any other decorations.
This was another thing I was wrong about. Yes, he eats Ramen and leaves his shoes tossed near the front door, but that’s the end of his sins. Everything else about him is aboveboard. He’s attentive to Hadley. His house is clean. He leaves for the gym early and stays late. And not because he’s avoiding coming home. But because he takes his job that seriously.
I creep inside the room. It smells like him. Warm and spicy. Adrenaline rushes through my veins.You shouldn’t be in here. What if he catches you?
My breathing is ragged in my chest, but I can’t get my feet to turn and leave the room. It’s like being drawn to an erotic fantasy. At night, I can’t stop thinking about him. Or how close he is to my room. It’s unhealthy.
Please, you can’t stop thinking about him during the day either.
The door to his closet is open. There are rows and rows of clothes and custom cabinetry. He has everything from Italian suits to jeans and T-shirts hanging from the rods.
On a shelf is his collection of baseball caps. There are hundreds of them, and there’s no reason they should make my heart race or my fingers itch to touch them, but they do. I lift the one he wore the first night when he rushed to my defense in nothing but a pair of low-slung shorts.