Page 3 of Passed Ball

"We can work out a way to co-parent together." I force a smile that I hope conveys warmth, because the same conniving hope I saw so often towards the end of our relationship glitters in her ice-blue eyes.

"So, nottogether," she says too slowly.

"Parenting together, yes." I rub my neck, searching for words to defuse the situation. "But I want to be very clear about where we stand. I'm not interested in a relationship beyond this baby. We can be friends and raise her as a unit, but nothing more."

Her bottom lip pushes out and her arms cross over her chest. "Why the hell not? She's our daughter. You said it yourself, she deserves a chance at a family. Don't I deserve that after all . . . this?" She gestures to her body.

"I will always be grateful to you for giving me a daughter." I hold her gaze. "I'll take care of her, and I'll take care of you too, because I know that's what you're really asking for. But we're not good together. Trying to force this for her sake would only hurt all of us."

I pause, softening my tone as I lean forward. "Take a paternity test, include me in the appointments, and I'll make sure you're both taken care of. I'll help you get your own place, and my lawyer can help us figure out an agreement that works for everyone."

"What's wrong with my apartment?" she scoffs.

"Your roommates don't seem like the kind to tolerate a baby crying in the middle of the night."

Her lip curls like she doesn't like the sound of being woken up, either.

"And what about a nanny?" she asks.

"If you want to keep working, I'll get a nanny to help during the season."

Her lips pucker, souring her face further. "You expect me to work?"

"That's not what I said." The pressure in my head builds, and I press my temples to reveal the ache.

"You said, if I want help, I have to work. I'm not an idiot."

"Kristy," I bark. Nothing has changed since she left, and the back and forth is making me weary. To her, this baby is a pawn to get the lifestyle I wouldn't give her when we were still together. "You will not use this baby to manipulate me."

"Whatever, Xavier." She stands, pushing back from the table to leave.

"Where are you going?" I move to follow her because this conversation is nowhere near over.

"To my apartment. I'm tired, and you're not helping." She stops short of the door and when she looks up, I can see it. The dark circles are covered by her makeup, but it can't hide the dullness in her blue irises. Behind the mask, she's struggling.

And I don't want to make it worse. "Should I have a realtor look for a place for you near my house?"

"Yes, fine. Send me the listings and I'll let you know what I like."

"We're doing this, then?" I ask, fighting the rise of my mouth.

"Don't look so damn happy. I still have to grow this kid for the next two months. Not to mention everything after . . ."

I reach out carefully, my hand brushing her elbow. Her cold blue gaze meets mine, full of pain and distrust. "If you don't want to raise her, that's okay. I can do this on my own."

Her laugh is bitter. "And then what? All your promises to take care of me go up in smoke?" Her voice rises and I glance around, relieved the coffee shop is mostly empty. "Not a chance. You do your part, and I'll do mine."

This is not how I imagined myself becoming a dad. I thought it would happen after retirement, with someone who wanted it as much as I did. This is going to be messy. Kristy's body is stiff as she waits for me to hit back, but I won't. "I never meant to hurt you. We'll figure this out."

"Don't give me that savior bullshit. I know you, Xavier. We're the same. We both came from nothing and I'm not fucking going back. Call the agent, send me the houses. We can both get what we want and at least this time I won't have to pretend to find you interesting."

Tirade finished, she yanks her arm free, her ponytail lashing angrily as she opens the door and walks away again. Only this time, despite her exit and us not being together, she's a permanent part of my life.

Chapter 1

Xavier

I'd never felt more clueless than the moment a nurse placed my seven-pound baby girl in my arms and said, "Congratulations."

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