Page 98 of The Trouble with Players

“Might he have shielded you from his other life because when he was with you, it was all about you and not other women?”

I shrugged.

“If you don’t mind me asking, up until last summer, how did he treat your mother?”

“The same way he treated me. Like she was the center of his universe. That’s the hardest part. He never let on that he was this cheater living a whole other life.”

“That would be hard to wrap your head around. So, what else would you say to him?”

“You need to be better for Crew.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Better for Crew?”

“He can’t keep running away from his mistakes. He needs to face them head on.” I’d been so swept up in how his infidelity affected Crew and me as a couple, I hadn’t considered that Crew was dealing with a separate issue when it came to knowing he had a father. My father couldn’t just walk away from Crew like he had his other child. Crew deserved better.

“Maybe you need to tell him that.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

As people shuffled in and out of the café, I stared down at my phone. Noon had come and gone, and it was nearing twelve-thirty. Either he was blowing me off, or he was making me wait the way I would’ve made him wait if it had been the other way around and he’d asked to see me in a public place.

The bell on the door jingled and my father finally strode inside pulling his sunglasses off his face. Many heads turned because that’s what happened when Marty Richmond entered a building. Men whispered to their friends, and woman took photos on their phones.

He stepped up to my table, but I stayed where I was. He slipped into the seat across from me. “I’m surprised you wanted to meet me here.”

“I needed witnesses in case you planned to lay another hand on me.”

He huffed his frustration with me. “That was a mistake.”

“Oh, good to see you’re finally acknowledging your mistakes.”

“When’s this gonna end, Peyton?”

“When’s what gonna end?”

He glanced around the café, likely making sure none of his adoring fans could hear our less-than-amicable conversation. “This animosity you’ve got toward me?”

I gave the obligatory moment to appear as if I was actually considering his question. “Probably never.”

“Good to know.” He grasped the arms of the chair, preparing to stand up. “Are we done then?”

“We deserved better. Mom and me. We held down the fort while you were off playing baseball, and you repaid us by cheating and having two other children—at least two that we know of.”

He stayed in his seat but leaned in angrily. “I gave you the best of everything. I think you’re forgetting that.”

“All I ever wanted was to be loved. And to know the person who loved me—who brought me into this world—loved me and my family more than cheap nights with baseball whores.”

He stared at me like I was someone he didn’t even know. Had my words meant nothing?

“Have you ever even reached out to your other daughter?” I asked.

“Why would I?”

“Because she’s an innocent bystander in all of this. So is Crew.”

He balked.

“Are you gonna pretend he’s not yours either? Or, because he’s gonna be a big baseball star, do you now want him?”

---