Fair Game: A Football Romance (101 page)

She pulls the covers up under her chin, biting her lip, and I trail a finger along the side of her lovely heart-shaped face and grip her chin, pulling her lip from her teeth.

“You’re going to be mine,” I say, narrowing my eyes so she knows I’m dead serious.

The corners of her mouth lift in the smallest smile.

“Sooner or later,” she says.

I release her and back out of the room, leaving the door open in case it’s her, and not Toby, who is afraid of the dark. When I’m face to face with the three locks on her door, I decide to check all the windows before I leave.

Every window in the living room is locked with an additional security lock, as well as Toby’s windows. I check on Lourdes again. She is already asleep and her windows are locked as well. Thank God she’s careful.

I’m only able to lock two of her door locks when I leave because she is sleeping, and one needs locking from her side, but the two she has look strong enough. Back in my car, I sit and stare at her door. I hate leaving her in this neighborhood. I hate leaving her at all.

Chapter Eighteen

Lourdes

Hangovers aren’t anything I’ve experienced often, maybe once or twice, and as far as this one goes, I’m considering it mild. I’m sure Liam has a lot to do with that. He stopped me from drinking any more and made me drink water, nap, drink more water and take ibuprofen. I wonder if he’s that attentive with everyone or just me. I can’t imagine Amira letting anyone take care of her, so he probably doesn’t get much of a chance to do nice things for her.

Lying here in bed, listening to the cars wiz by outside and the birds chirping, I have a million thoughts swirling around in my brain: Liam’s offer to pay for school and buy us a house, having his baby for him and Amira, the tender way he helped me get ready for bed, and the fact that he never stepped over the line.

I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, and it hurts. Part of me wishes more than anything that he would have stepped over the line. I’ve never wanted a man more. I could be set for life if I accepted his offer—no student loans, no mortgage, just school, studying and time with Toby.

I can’t believe Amira wants him to do artificial insemination. The baby wouldn’t be hers biologically at all. It would be Liam’s and mine. Is that what he’s counting on? That Amira will use the baby as leverage with her father and abandon it so we can live happily ever after? I hardly know this man. I am fiercely attracted to him, but I can’t start planning a future with him based on two encounters. The thought is outlandish.

His words from last night roll through my mind like a song on repeat.
Sooner or later, you will be mine.
He seems so sure, so confident, like he knows I’ll accept his offer and we will live happily ever after. Wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah, life doesn’t work that way. Nobody, especially me, gets a perfect happily ever after. I need to talk to Rachel, I need my baby, and I need to get up.

I sit up in bed and try to catch my breath, and I’m dizzy. Even after the water, I must be dehydrated. Note to self: don’t drink more than one martini again. Ever. When I’m able to take a regular breath, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The package of baby wipes is still on the counter where Liam left them last night. I love his tender yet take-charge attitude. He makes me feel cared for and safe all at once. I smile and put the wipes back under the sink and take a shower. When I’m finished, I already feel like I need a nap, but I push through and drive to my sister’s house to get Toby.

When I walk through the door, my knees are attacked by a small yet mighty green hulk. I bend down to look him over, head to toe.

“Where’s Toby? You’re the hulk, aren’t you?” I ask.

“I hulk grrrrrrr!” Toby growls with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Rachel enters the room with Ivy, who is dressed up in a Snow White costume with a black wig.

“Did I miss something? I thought Halloween wasn’t for a few months.”

“They wanted to dress up,” Rachel says, shrugging her shoulders. “You sorta look like hell. What happened last night?”

I scoop up my little green monster man—covering my arms in green body paint—and walk past Rachel into the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and kiss Toby’s face all over until he squirms away and runs into the back yard with Ivy. Rachel sits across from me expectantly, with her elbows on the table and her hands crossed in front of her.

“He offered to pay for college—all of it. And he wants to buy Toby and me a house near Berkeley. He’s married to a witch. And I think I’m falling in love with him.”

I figure I may as well throw it all out there and let her start digesting the information. She falls back against the high-back kitchen chair, and a huff of air comes from her open mouth when she hits it. One of her daycare kids runs in from the back yard, and she tracks him as he hurries across the room toward the bathroom, chanting.

“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee.”

I’m watching her watch him, and it’s almost comical . . . almost. When the bathroom door slams, she returns her gaze to me, and I watch her smooth her skirt under the table. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and I feel bad for dropping such a bomb on her.

“Rachel, I’m sorry. I should have eased you into this or something.”

She stands and moves to the sink, where she turns on the water and starts doing dishes.
What the hell?

“Hey,” I say, but she holds up a wet hand.

“I just need a minute.”

She always cleans when she’s freaked out. No wonder her house is so immaculate. If I had all these kids running around all the time, I’d probably be freaked out all the time too.

When she’s placed the last bowl in the dishwasher, she turns and dries her hands on a dishtowel.

“Okay, so you’re telling me you’re in love with a married man who wants you to be a surrogate mother for him and his wife, who is a witch. Oh, wait. And he wants to pay for college and buy you a house.”

“Correct. Yes, you’ve got it. Exactly.” I nod my head curtly in agreement. She’s still freaking out, but there isn’t anything left to clean, so she paces the length of the kitchen, back and forth, with one arm wrapped around her waist, tapping her front tooth with her pointer finger from her other hand.

“I knew I should have never mentioned this damn surrogacy thing to you. Now I’ve gone and completely screwed up your life.” She stops tapping and pinches the skin between her eyes. I’ve given her a headache. Great.

“You haven’t done anything, and I never said I was accepting his offer.”

She snaps her head up so hard that I worry about her neck. I have never seen her look so relieved.

“Oh, thank God, Lourdes. I thought you had gone off the deep end. You can’t agree to this. It’s too much, and there are feelings involved, feelings you shouldn’t be having. I’m going to talk to Blake about getting a loan for you to go back to school in the fall. I have a friend in Berkeley. Maybe she has room for you to stay with them, or maybe we could apply for low income housing or look for a roommate. Yes, a roommate. That’s a really good idea.”

She’s rambling. Her drastic reaction makes me think that maybe I’ve been living in a fairytale world. How’s this thing even going to work with Liam? He’s married, for God’s sake. What am I thinking? Of course I can’t have anything to do with this bizarre, fucked up plan. So many things could go wrong. My life is difficult enough without dragging a psycho woman and a sexy, gorgeous, attentive, dominant man . . . oh, who am I kidding? I’m not going to say no, but I’ve led Rachel to believe I am. I’m sort of scared to tell her now. She might drop dead right here, with her daughter and a bunch of daycare kids in the yard.

“Sis, don’t worry about it right now. We’ve got a couple of months to figure out what to do, and worse case scenario, I take a year off and work. Really, we will be ok. I’m going to get Toby and wash off his hulk paint and head home.” I scoot my chair back, but when I stand, I sway and grip the edge of the table.

“Lourdes?” Rachel says, hurrying to my side to help me back into my chair. I blink and hold my forehead with one hand and take deep breaths. I’m no expert on hangovers, but I’m sure they aren’t supposed to take your breath away and make you dizzy. I’ve had two bottles of water and a Gatorade since I woke up. I shouldn’t be dehydrated either.

“What happened? You’re pale as a ghost. Did you drink at that club last night? Oh God, did someone drug you? Those kinds of places are crawling with crazies putting drugs in pretty girls’ drinks.”

“Rachel, stop. No, I didn’t have too much to drink, and nobody drugged me. I was with friends all night. I’m just tired and stressed out. I need to go home and spend some time with Toby and rest. That’s all.”

“You looked dizzy. Are you dizzy? Do you think you should be driving?”

This is actually a very good question, one I’m not going to answer honestly because I have a burning desire to get out of here and go home. If I feel weird once we’re on our way, I’ll stop and call Kit. I have a few things to say to him anyway, like
why the hell didn’t you take me home last night?

“I’m fine, just a little dehydrated. Do you have anything I can take with me to drink?”

That ought to keep her busy for a minute while I get Toby. I don’t even care about his green paint anymore. I just want to go home.

When I get up this time, I’m fine. No dizziness no shortness of breath, totally fine. I find Toby out back, and he whines about leaving, but when I promise he can come back tomorrow, he’s more agreeable. Fruit punch Gatorade in one hand, green hulk in the other, I leave my nerve-ridden sister standing on the porch and nibbling her nails. When we pull out of the drive, we both wave and she calls out, “See you tomorrow. Drive safe.” I stick my hand out the window and wave as we drive away.

“Did you have fun today with Ivy?”

“Fun with Ivy,” he repeats clapping his hands. I’m going to have to wash his car seat to get all that green paint off it, but right now, it’s worth it. I want my bed. Two blocks away, we hit a red light, and when it turns green, another bout of shortness of breath hits me. I pull into a McDonald’s parking lot, hoping it will subside as quickly as it came on.

Most kids would be excited about being at McDonald’s, but Toby doesn’t even know what it is. He’s never been to one. We eat pretty healthy, and I figure he’ll get plenty of that crap when he’s older, so why start now?

“Mommy go,” Toby says, but I’ve already decided to call Kit. It’s a twenty- or thirty-minute drive home, and I can’t keep stopping, or we won’t make it until lunch time tomorrow.

“In just a minute, baby. Mommy’s calling a friend.”

I dial Kit, and he picks up on the first ring.

“What’s up, Lovey? Did you and Chachi have a good time last night?”

“Kit, I need you to come and get me. I’m at the McDonald’s a couple of blocks from my sister’s. Do you know where I mean?”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“What’s wrong? Girl, you’re not in trouble, are you? Why on earth are you at a McDonald’s? You don’t eat that shit. And why are you calling me instead of your sister if she’s a couple of blocks away?”

“Kit, I don’t feel good. I must be really hung over or something, and I don’t need my sister freaking out. I have Toby with me, and I don’t want to risk anything happening with him in the car, okay? Please?”

“Sit tight, honey. I’m on my way. You sure you don’t need an ambulance or something? I can call 911.”

“God no, Kit. I’m just dizzy. Don’t call 911. Now you sound like Rachel. Just come get us please.”

“All right, on my way.” He disconnects the line, and I turn in my seat to tell Toby we have to wait a few minutes only to find him passed out, drool running through green paint at the corner of his mouth.

I turn around and put my hands on the wheel and take a few breaths. Not two minutes later, I’m fine, like nothing ever happened, and I’m feeling stupid for calling Kit. If he’s not here in five, I’m calling him back to tell him I can make it home on my own. I’m overreacting. I turn the air down and the radio on. It’s set to my usual pop channel, but I find myself surfing for one that plays house music or trance, anything that will make me feel close to Liam. I find one that’s not exactly what his music sounds like but close enough. I lock my doors, lean my head back on the seat, and close my eyes.

I’m jolted awake by someone rapping hard on my window. I jump and snap back when the seatbelt holds me in place. It takes me a second to orientate myself, but my window rapper isn’t being patient. He’s yelling my name, and he just rapped his knuckles against the glass again. Toby is awake now. I glance into the rearview mirror and see that he’s crying because he woke up and rubbed green pain in his eyes. My heart is racing from the initial adrenaline rush of being startled when I look out the window and find Liam staring back at me with wild eyes and a panicked look on his face. He’s jabbing his finger in the direction of the lock, and I press the button.

“Fu…” he stops mid-curse when he hears Toby crying and looks back and forth between us, not knowing which one to help first.

“I’m fine. I was sleeping. Let me out so I can help Toby. He has paint in his eyes.”

Instead of moving aside to let me out, he closes the door and opens the back door.

“Hey there, little man. I’m Liam. I’m your mommy’s friend. I think you got some of your awesome green hulk paint in your eyes. Can I help you get it out?”

Toby holds still, and with amazing calm, he lowers his hands and grips the sides of his car seat, squeezing his little eyes shut as tight as he can.

“Lourdes, do you have a bag for him?”

“Yes, it should be in the seat next to him—the red one there,” I say, turning in my seat to point to Toby’s overnight bag. Liam unzips it and takes out the package of baby wipes we still keep on hand for such emergencies and begins to clean Toby’s eyes.

My heart lurches in my chest as I watch him treat my son with the same loving tenderness that he treated me to just the night before. Every experience I have with Liam proves more and more what an exceptional man he is. He has an honorable sense of character, and I’m positive he would be a wonderful father.

“Okay, buddy. Can you see now?” Liam asks.

“I see you,” he answers in a peekaboo singsong voice, and Liam chuckles. I’ve never heard him chuckle. Can chuckling be sexy? Yes, chuckling can definitely be sexy.