Page 29 of The Sacrifice
Jackson
Hadley’s room is complete. The stuffed animals are perched along a shelf and on top of the dresser. Her clothes are unpacked, and everything from the pineapple socks to the nine-month-old onesie with my team number and colors are folded and put away. I couldn’t find one in her current size, so I did the best I could. The way she’s putting on weight, she’ll be in it in no time.
Okay…. Folded is a bit of an exaggeration. Hadley woke up after a two-hour nap, and Mia had to feed and entertain her, so I might have tossed them into the drawer and shoved it shut.
I rock back and forth in the rocking chair with Hadley snuggled against my chest. After I kiss the top of her head, I say, “What do you think, little lady?” The scent of baby powder and flowers has become my new favorite smell.
Her eyes flutter open and close again. “I take that to mean you like it.” Happiness fills my chest until it’s ready to burst. A few days ago, the thought of having a kid was as foreign as flying to the moon. Now, it seems as natural as breathing. Yes, Roxanne was a mistake. I rub my hand over her back. But look what it got me.
I kiss Hadley’s forehead again, rise from the rocker, and place her in the middle of the crib. She shifts slightly and falls asleep. Her bow lips pucker and move as she dreams about the perfect bottle. I wouldn’t change a thing. She’s mine. I don’t need a piece of paper to spell out the obvious. Other than to ensure she stays where she belongs–with me.
Speaking of drinks. I deserve a reward for putting together my daughter’s first kickass bedroom. I snap off the overhead light, leaving on the pineapple one on the desk, and slip out of her room. Life can’t get any better than this. My foot hits the top step, and a slight squeaking sound breaks through my euphoria.
What if Roxanne shows up and causes trouble?
Not going to happen.I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and text Spencer.
Me: Any luck with Roxanne’s background?
I jog down the stairs with my eyes scanning between the screen and my hand trailing down the banister. Falling down and breaking my ankle while doing nothing has happened to more than one sports player. I’m not looking to be the next one.
Spencer: Things are progressing. Truman has found a lot of information on her. She’s not paid her rent for six months. Or her utilities for three months. She’s been arrested a few times for possession and once for prostitution. Give him a couple of more days, and there will be no question about who’s the more fit parent.
Me: Thanks, man. Keep me posted.
I wasn’t expecting anything different. Nor am I anticipating her putting up a fight to sign over parental rights, but I’m not leaving anything to chance. Her boyfriend could dump her, leave her high and dry out in Vegas. The next thing I know, she’ll be dragging out all the stops trying to bleed me dry. No matter what’s happened so far, I understand the type of person she is.
The scent of Italian seasonings fills the bottom floor of the house, causing my stomach to growl and my mouth to water. Mia must have made herself something to eat while I was finishing the bedroom.
I’m starving. When was the last time I ate? The clock above the big screen television flashes 9:45 p.m. I’m stuck eating Ramen again.
When I walk through the kitchen doorway, Mia breezes past me with a casserole dish in her hands. The cheese on top is darkened in all the right places. I turn and follow her. “That smells delicious.”
She sets the pan on a coaster and bites her bottom lip. “Thank you. I hope you like lasagna. You worked through dinner time, and I assumed you’d be hungry.”
“You cooked for me?” My heart bangs in my chest. No woman has cooked for me.
She clasps her hands together. “Well….” She shrugs as the tip of her tongue swipes along her bottom lip. “For us. I’m starving, too. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, which was a bowl of cereal.”
“Thank you. That is thoughtful of you.” The need to find out how sweet her mouth tastes swirls inside of me, overwhelming me until I’m about to jump out of my skin. Falling for the nanny is irresponsible. Falling for my best friend’s sister is against the bro code. Losing it over a woman who’s always hated me is pathetic. I might be all three of those things at once.
“You’re welcome.” Her eyes twinkle as if my praise is something she cherishes. I didn’t need to know she had a praise kink. “I’m famished.” She spins on her heel and rushes back into the kitchen. The swaying of her hips sends renewed energy into my body and shoves the exhaustion away.
This is a bad idea. My feet take me toward the temptation rather than away from it. She glances over her shoulder. “It’s decided then. Can you grab the wine? I got a bottle of Zinfandel out of the cooler. It’s supposed to go good with Italian.”
Yeah, this is a horrible idea. “Sure. Wine would be great.”
“Perfect.” She snatches up the plates, silverware, napkins and stacks a basket of rolls on top. “I’ll only have one glass since I have baby duty tonight.”
“I’ve got practice in the morning, so it’ll only be one glass for me, also.”
She stops and frowns. “Should we forget the wine?”
“No.” I shake my head as adrenaline surges through my veins, causing my body to hum. “It’s a night for wine.”
“You worked hard today.” She points to the counter with her free hand. “Can you grab the wine?”
Once we’re seated, and our plates are full, I pour her a glass of Zinfandel. “Here.”