Page 10 of Dancing in the Rain

Sara wanted to meet with him before telling Chloe about him. That made him impatient.

Waiting made him crazy. He’d never been good at waiting. Maybe he’d been called foolhardy a few times. Impetuous. Impulsive. But right now he had no choice.

He had so many questions. Since that morning Sara had walked into his crappy world and dropped the knowledge about his daughter on him, he’d had a hard time not thinking about it. There was so much he didn’t know.

Sara was dying. Was she married? It was entirely possible there was a husband, maybe even other kids in the picture. There was no way she’d want him to take Chloe, if that was the case. He imagined Chloe part of a big happy family. Only not so happy because the mom was dying.

That fucking sucked.

Maybe it would be better for Chloenotto know about him. If there was another man she thought of as her father, did it make sense to rock that boat? Maybe it was a mistake wanting to meet her. On top of impulsive, he’d also been called selfish a time or two (mostly by Christy, his ex-wife). Maybe he was only thinking of himself and what he wanted, and not what was best for Chloe. Which meant he would suck as a parent because parenting was all about putting your kids’ needs before your own.

But Sara wouldn’t have offered this if she thought it would be bad for Chloe…would she?

He had no idea if Sara was a good mother. But yet, he thought she was. The love and devotion for her daughter had brightened her face. Sara was well-spoken, obviously educated, and had been dressed in clothes that were good quality. She clearly was able to provide for her daughter.

Drew paced around his living room as still more questions formed in his head.

Was Sara a stay-at-home mom? Or did she work? What did she do? They’d been freshmen and hadn’t shared their hopes and dreams for the future during their one drunken hookup.

Nice. They were going to have to come clean to Chloe about how she’d been conceived. Maybe Sara had already told her that part of the story, though.

And what abouthisfamily? He and Christy had no kids, but he had two brothers and a sister, with six children between them. And his parents. And a crusty grandma. What the hell was he going to tellthemabout this?

He rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he contemplated that. Chloe not only had a dad she didn’t know, she also had six cousins and a bunch of aunts and uncles. But again, maybe she already had that.

Fuck, he knew nothing about Sara Watt, other than she had a sister. The sister who’d answered the phone when he’d called the other day.

Inspiration struck and he moved from the living room to the den, which was a sort of office for him. Not that he did any kind of work there. But his computer was there and he was soon doing a Google search.

Sara Watt’s LinkedIn profile came up. There was a small photo of her. Yep, that was her. Corporate attorney at First Insurance. He read her experience, skills, and education, including, yes, a law degree from Notre Dame.

Huh. A lawyer.

He found a few other brief mentions of her, but not much else. Only more questions. Having a baby at age eighteen, or maybe nineteen by the time Chloe had been born, hadn’t held Sara back from getting an education or apparently having a successful career.

He glanced at the time on the computer. He was supposed to meet some guys for dinner, some of his buddies who were arriving back in town for training camp. He was still wearing the sweatpants and T-shirt he’d pulled on when he rolled out of bed at the crack of noon that day. He’d better make an effort to clean himself up and look like he had his shit together.

His insides twisted up, cramping painfully. These guys were his friends, but he was fucking dreading seeing them.

Heshould be at training camp. He should be lacing on his skates, taping his stick, enjoying the feel of the puck on his blade. He should be shooting at the net, feeling that sweet satisfaction of seeing the twine bulge. Laughing on the ice with the guys, sweating through drills, harassing the rookies who were all nervous and trying to make a good impression.

Seeing these guys was just going to remind him of how fucked he was.

He considered blowing them off. But Sam was picking him up, and he had to face him. And he still had a speck of pride left, because the last thing he wanted was people feeling sorry for him.

He clenched his jaw as he jogged upstairs to the big master suite, which was nearly empty. Christy had taken the bedroom furniture, and all he’d bothered to replace it with was a king-size bed that didn’t even have a headboard, and a long, low dresser. Thank fuck they’d had a prenup or she’d have taken him for a lot more.

Already the bitterness that rose up his throat when he thought about Christy and their divorce had faded to nearly nothing. Guess he wasn’t that heartbroken after all.

He stripped off his clothes as he walked, dropping them on the dark hardwood. He stepped into the bathroom. He loved this bathroom. Spacious and bright, it wasn’t fancy, just plain white walls with white wooden blinds on the window, dark wood cabinets, and white towels. There was a huge white soaker tub at one end, but he rarely used that because the shower was his favorite thing.

He paused in front of the big mirror above the double-sink vanity and rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. Shave? Nah.

He opened the glass door and stepped into what was nearly a small room, tiled with beige stone. He was a big guy and he liked to have elbow room when he was shampooing his hair. Plus, there were, like, ten different jets of spray, including one that rained down on top of his head, and a corner bench where he could sit.

Too bad he couldn’t live in this shower.

He was ready when Sam rang his doorbell, shoving his wallet into the pocket of a pair of black dress pants. He turned back the cuffs of his shirtsleeves as he walked to the door to let Sam in.

---