Page 43 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Technically,” Kendall adds. “It’s not lying. Except for the widower part. You can leave that out. Truth: you have realized how much you want to settle down and raise a family. Truth: in eight, seven months’ time, you’ll have a child.”

“His child.”

“Lying by omission isn’t as bad as a blatant lie.”

My gut churns and I’m not sure if it’s the food, my nerves, or the baby. Rowan picks my phone off my lap and hands it to me.

“Either way, you need to message him or he’s going to show up at work on Wednesday.”

I nod and take it from her. “I need some time to think about what to say. I’m going to take a bath and text him in a bit.”

“Want us to stay?” Rowan squeezes my hand.

“Thanks, but no. I need to figure this out on my own.”

“Figure it out on your own, but you’re not alone. Remember that.” Kendall picks up our dinner mess and tosses the containers in the trash while Rowan washes our glasses.

They give me a few more words of encouragement before they leave. I soak in the tub, stall by doing a thorough shaving job, then text Walker back once I’m curled up in bed.

ME: Sorry. I was out with friends. Wednesday sounds perfect. I’m going away Thursday through Sunday though. Can we meet for dinner Wed. after work?

He texts back immediately.

OH GOD: Any time I can get with you I’ll take.

He’s so freaking sweet.

And I’m a fucking two-faced liar scumbag ho.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WALKER

My night with Riley was short and sweet. And by sweet, I meansweet. We had a nice dinner at a Mexican restaurant she recommended, and when I thought we’d end the night in my hotel room, we ended it at her car with a long kiss goodnight.

She said she was havingfemale issues.I really didn’t care if she was on her period. I would have gladly held her all night long in my bed. Yeah, the sex is amazing, and me and my dick were looking forward to feeling the tight walls of her pussy spasming in orgasm, but I’d have settled for a night of cuddling.

And I’m not a fucking cuddler. But for Riley, I’m anything she wants me to be.

“Fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration then add another plate on the barbell.

I made it through Thursday by spending two hours in the gym and taking a ten-mile run through the city. I’m in no rush for an afternoon of golf, so I push through a brutal upper body workout in the gym before showering and checking out. Other than being with Riley, working out is the only other thing that helps take my mind off the shit show of a weekend I have coming up. It would be easier to endure with Riley on my arm, but I’m not about to make her suffer through the hell I used to call home.

The drive does nothing to calm me down. I’m not exactly nervous to see my family, but I’m not looking forward to it either. It’s been more than ten years since I’ve been back. More than ten years since anyone has reached out to me. Not that I’ve connected with any of them either.

To say I was surprised when I received an email from my brother inviting me here this weekend is an understatement. It’s not like we had a falling out. We just never...fell in. I blame it mostly on our father, the mother fucking asshole who cares more about dollar signs and his reputation than his kids.

As for mother dearest, I feel nothing for her. Not hate. Not love. Just...sadness. She was never loving or nurturing. Never part of my life. Neither of them attended any of my sporting events and shipped me off to boarding school as soon as I hit high school and my athleticism stood out. Apparently, having an athlete in the family is a disgrace.

I would have thought signing with the NFL would have changed my father’s mind, but he couldn’t care less about my success, unless I was wearing a suit and tie.

We’re required to dress formally when traveling and attending certain public events, but I keep it on the downlow, always trying to get away with being the least bit formal as possible. This weekend is a black-tie event, but I’ll be sans the tie and sans the black.

I’m not outwardly disrespectful, it’s not in my nature, so I packed a navy-blue suit and dark gray shirt. If I really wanted to stick it to dear ol’ dad, I would have bought it off the rack. But my shoulders and arms make it hard to find a suit that fits me properly.

I pull my rental SUV up to the iron gates and give my name to the security guy. He eyes me curiously, asks me for my ID, then allows me to pass. Nothing says welcome home like being scrutinized by a rent-a-cop.

The monstrosity on the water never felt like home, even during the fourteen years I lived here. I always felt like a guest. May have something to do with being treated like one. I pocket my keys and make my way up the granite steps to the front door. Most sons would walk right into their parents’ home. Maybe knock and then open the door.

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