Page 113 of Power Play

“Ask me after the playoffs.” I pinch my eyebrows together. My bottom lip protrudes. Clay sees it and starts laughing. “You two are the best team in the world. The Thunders will always be second, even if we—hypothetically—win the Stanley Cup final.”

“Notif.” I press my cheek to his shoulder. “Whenyou win the Stanley Cup. I have no doubt.”

“Hope you’re right.” Clay winds one hand around my waist and ruffles Maya’s hair with the other. “To have my girls cheering for me will be fantastic.”

My mind flashes a memory in front of my eyes, the one that still makes my heart squeeze in my chest, so overwhelmed with love and happiness.

The place is packed. I hear people’s laughter, conversations, and pleasant music in the background. Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the space in golden colors. The day is unusually sunny for the beginning of February, and everyone appears happy about it. Except me. My mood is all over the place, simply because I’m dreading the meeting I’m about to have.

If he shows up, that is.

Clay’s arm drapes over my shoulders, and he pulls me to his side. He hides his nose in my hair and inhales deeply. “Stop worrying. It’s going to be all right. I’m here with you.”

“Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves? You heard what the lawyer said: to initiate the process, we need to be married. And we’re not there yet…with hockey, and my plans to open my shop in August?—”

“Layla, his band is playing in Santa Clara tonight. We won’t need to chase him all over the country. We can sit and talk like adults.”

The bell rings, and my eyes instinctively snap toward the entrance. His blues stare at me; an unreadable mask is on his face. Squaring his shoulders, Eli pauses for a second by the door, then shakes his head and walks toward our table. Without saying anything, he lowers himself into the chair across from Clay and me.

“Hey. Thank you for coming,” I chirp, clearing my throat. It sounds so fake.

“Hi,” Eli grumbles.

My eyes roam over his face, and I purse my lips tighter. Her hair color isn’t the only thing Maya got from him after all. The tip of his nose is a bit upturned and moves whenever he speaks. The curve of his mouth is similar to mine, but his is more prominent, just like on her face.

“I see you finally got what you wanted. After years of pining after the girl who wanted everyone else but you,” Eli quips.

Clay chuckles. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer, but you’re wrong. Life is full of new meetings, new connections. Some people are here to stay forever, but some are like pit stops. They bring us experience, teach us a lesson, and then we move forward, leaving them behind once they’ve fulfilled their purpose.” I turn my head to him, and he smiles reassuringly. “Layla and I were always meant to be, while you were a pit stop along the way.”

After a short pause, Eli leans his back in his chair. “Why am I here?”

“Because”—I pull out the paper I’ve prepared for him and put it on the table—“I need you to sign this.”

Eli grabs the document, his features narrowing as he reads. “What is this?”

“Your written consent for adoption.”

“You already have sole custody,” he deadpans. “Why this?”

“Because I want to adopt Maya. I want to be her dad in every way possible,” Clay replies, and my heart skips a beat. I thought I was going to pass out when I heard him say that for the first time. “She’s mine. My little Princess. I want to make it official.”

“And why would I sign this?” Eli bites out. His usually deep voice is high-pitched.

“Because you don’t deserve to be her dad. You never did,” Clay hisses, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “Maya is amazing. She’s smart and funny and so fucking lovable. I’ve never met a person who’d be indifferent about her…except you. You don’t deserve to be her dad. Sign it.”

Eli drags his hand down his face, then stares daggers at Clay. I sit silently, thinking about the best approach. Then, with trembling hands, I take my phone out of my purse, unlock it, and put it on the table. Eli’s eyes fall to the picture, and I notice how the column of his throat twitches.

“That’s our daughter. She’s two years and eight months old. Her favorite color is pink. Her favorite food is the cupcakes that Drake’s fiancée bakes for her. Her favorite toy is a bright pink unicorn that Clay made for her, and she never leaves the house without it. She loves fairy tales and will easily bully you into reading one more chapter.

“She’s very smart for her age, and she also knows a lot about flowers, especially peonies, because I was taking her with me when I needed to work. She was in her bouncer, watching me make bouquets while I told her everything I knowabout flowers.She loves dogs and cats, and she has about five best friends at her preschool. But her best, best friend is Clay. The secrets she tells him, she doesn’t even say to me. She loves him, and he loves her back just as much, while you…you signed over sole custody without a single question. You chose not to have us in your life, and now I’m asking you to choose a better future for our daughter. Sign the papers, Eli. Please.”

He stares out the window; his gaze is glassy. Then he peers at me. “Do you have a pen?”

I nod, take a pen out of my purse, and give it to him. Eli reads the papers through once again, signs, and pushes them back over to me. Without another word, he stands up and hovers over us.

“Where is she?” he asks in a rasp.

“With my friend and her husband.” When I called Nevaeh and asked if she could watch Maya, she agreed immediately. It wasn’t even an hour before Roman was knocking on our front door. Clay and I have the best friends.

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