Page 38 of Finding Alexei
“I asked her to meet me for breakfast tomorrow.” I’ll be done with practice early since tomorrow is special teams practice with the offensive coordinator. I’m usually only there until ten or so. It leaves plenty of time to meet her before her shift, if she’s working.
“What’d she say?” Weston asks.
Just as I open my mouth to reply that she hasn’t responded, my phone chirps from the coffee table.
Colin snatches it before I do. His face breaks into a smile. “We’d better get you to bed, princess. You’ll need your beauty sleep.” I grab for my phone, but he continues holding it. “You’ve got a date with your girl in the morning.”
She’s not my girl, but I want her to be.
One step at a time. Time to get these goons out of my apartment.Chapter FifteenAlexeiRyleigh sits across from me, her legs folded beneath her on the booth. She’s rigid, and has barely looked at me. It stings more than I’d like to admit. She’s dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that keeps falling off one shoulder, her hair is up in a messy bun like she couldn’t be bothered with it, but she still looks so good that it hurts to know I can’t reach over and touch her.
She finally responded to my text late last night and agreed to breakfast. After that, Weston and Colin left, and I tried in vain to sleep. Practice was a blur, and now I’m here.
My stomach is in fucking knots, and I hate everything about this. Ella rests next to her, still strapped into the baby carrier. I wish she’d cry, scream, do something, because at least then it would match how I feel right now.
I lean in closer. “Did I do something wrong?”
Ryleigh’s eyes flash to mine. “No. Of course not. You’ve been incredible. More than I could have ever asked for.”
The waitress chooses that moment to deliver the coffees we’ve both ordered.
“Thank you.” Ryleigh reaches for her mug and dumps in a generous serving of sugar and cream.
The waitress flips open a notepad and looks at me. “What are you having?”
“Five eggs, over easy. Breakfast sausage. Two pancakes with bacon, and a side of wheat toast, please.” My gaze swings to Ryleigh, who’s stirring her coffee, staring at it intently rather than looking at me. “Ry?”
“Oh, nothing for me. Just coffee.”
I shake my head. “You’re eating. What do you want? Eggs? Pancakes?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. French toast, please. With a side of bacon.”
Satisfied, the waitress flips her notebook closed and saunters away.
Ryleigh’s got to get over this whole thing about me paying. I make millions, and it does me no good sitting in a bank account. I enjoy treating my friends and family. It pisses me off when she takes that away from me, and I think I’ve done everything I can to not make her feel like she and Ella are a financial burden.
I take a sip of my coffee, trying to compose myself. My chest feels tight, and I have no idea why I’m out of breath like I just ran a four-second forty.
Ella wakes suddenly, letting out a sharp cry.
Ryleigh flinches and turns toward the baby. She unbuckles the straps and carefully lifts her out. “She needs a new diaper.”
I rise to my feet and reach for her. “I’ve got it.”
Ryleigh frowns, but makes no move to pass Ella over.
I thrust my hands closer. “I said I’ve got it.” Is she really going to rob me of this too? I didn’t even get to say good-bye to Ella yesterday before they just took off.
Finally, Ryleigh relents and hands the baby to me. I shoulder the diaper bag and stalk off for the restrooms at the back corner of the restaurant.
Cradling the baby against my chest, I head into the men’s room and find a dude at the urinals taking a piss, but no baby-changing station. What the fuck?
The guy flashes me a confused look, and I have no idea if it’s because he’s recognized me or because I’m holding a baby.
I huff out a frustrated sigh and exit, heading straight into the women’s restroom. Thankfully, it’s deserted, but even if it weren’t, I’d like to see someone try to stop me from changing Ella. She needs a new diaper. And we need a changing table.
I open the changing table and wipe it down with an antibacterial wipe from the diaper bag, then lay down a small blanket and place Ella on top.
“You okay, princess? I’ll get you cleaned up good as new.”
She makes a soft cooing noise, and my throat tightens.
I unsnap her onesie and remove the soiled diaper, wiping her carefully like my older sister taught me the first time I changed her daughter. Once Ella’s perfectly clean, I take out a new diaper and cover her.
