Page 60 of Face Off
The air in the room moves thick as my father and I stare at each other. I’ve been mad with my father many times before, but nothing could compare to this. I step around my desk, taking a seat in my chair before gesturing to my father to take a seat.
“So, what can I help you with, Mr. Richards? Do you need my office cleared out quicker?” I say with spit.
He releases a grunt of displeasure before leaning forward and placing the block lockbox on my desk. Resting his arm on his thighs, he leans forward. “I received your letter of resignation this morning.”
“That’s right.” He raises his hand to stop me before I can finish.
“Your resignation is rejected.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Hayley, I came here to apologize for my actions and behavior.” He sighs, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk, placing the lockbox in front of me. “I said some horrible things to you as a father, many I’m not so proud of. And what I said to you the other night was the worst of it all.”
He hangs his head low, giving me a chance to take him in. His normally grayish hair is no longer perfectly styled, and he has a thick layer of scruff forming on his jawline. My father has never once had scruff on him, not even during the playoffs. His suit jacket hangs open, exposing his rumpled white dress shirt. Another thing not usual for him. If my mother saw him leave the house this morning, she would have a coronary. That is if she’s still talking to him. She was so pissed at him for what hehad said, that immediately after she left my house yesterday, she called to tell me she was staying at the Westin.
“Camden is the light of my life. After you were born, your mother and I tried for several years to conceive again. To give me a son. But we struggled. So, I decided if you were it for us, you were to be held with high expectations.” I stare at him as he lifts his misty eyes to me. “The moment you told us you were pregnant with Camden, I was furious. Disappointed really.”
“So sorry to disappoint.”
“Hayley. Please let me finish,” he says, standing from his chair. “The Camerons for years experienced money problems. Conrad had a serious gambling problem, so for years, they struggled and pushed Boyce toward you. I had no idea of any of this until you came home and told us Boyce and you were having a baby. I had called Conrad that night before we all had dinner at the country club. He immediately insisted you two get married. But when Boyce showed up at dinner that following night, claiming you were sleeping around on him and the baby wasn’t his, they immediately accused us of trying to get money out of them.”
My father’s jaw tenses as he thinks about the night Boyce tried to convince them I was lying about everything. “I took out my anger on you. I was so mad at myself for letting that boy get to you. Then when Camden was born, everything changed. Yeah, I fought you for a while on your decision to go to medical school, but then I realized this was a chance to start over. Raise Camden the way I wish I would have raised you.” He clears his throat as tears form at the rim of his eyes. “When Boyce started this whole paternity business, I lost it. Then I lost it even more when you told me Brooks would get Camden from school. He’s my best player who had his own fair share of scandals and dramaover the past several years. I didn’t want him getting involved and distracted.”
I stare at my father as he finally sits back down, dropping his head into his hands. “With all due respect, Dad… Brooks told me about his past and the fact that he opened up to me about it at all was more than I could ever ask for. He’s not perfect and neither am I.” Clearly. “That’s why he’s different from Boyce.”
He nods in understanding before standing and making his way to my office door. “I love you and Camden so much, Hayley, and I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise. I’m sorry for everything.” He grasps the handle but pauses before turning it. “My statement before still stands. Resignation denied.”
“Understood,” I say with a smile as a stray tear runs down my cheek.
“Oh, and Hayley,” he says, looking back at me. “Keep the money. Put it toward Camden, save it for a rainy day.”
He leaves my office without another word. My father has never opened up as much as he did today. It made a lot of things abundantly clear. Like the fact that Boyce’s family forced us together because of money issues. Did he ever love me like he claimed he so called did when we first started dating? Is the only reason he’s stepping up now to claim Cam because of his image and that I could come after him for money?
I didn’t need money.
I just want my son happy. But would Camden knowing Boyce Cameron was the father he never had and the person who had walked out on us before he was born be for the best?
I guess only time will tell.
Hayley
“Mom, come see what Brooks did,” Camden calls out from the living room as I walk through the front door of Brooks’ apartment.
I had driven by my townhome on the way back from the arena and as expected, the reporters are still camped out like a couple of concert goers. Just waiting to catch a glimpse of Boyce Cameron’s love child and the bitch who kept him away for so long.
I know exactly how the media is making me out to be. A scorned high school sweetheart. Sure, back then, I would say that was true, but now it couldn’t be further from the truth. Back then, I thought I knew what Boyce exactly wanted. I thought he wanted me, child or not. I was so wrong.
I drop my purse on the table next to the front door and slip off my shoes before stepping further into the condo. Woah. Am I in the right place? Yup, Camden’s dancing from foot to foot with excitement, while Brooks leans against the kitchen counter, smirking.
I step cautiously into the living room, which isn’t as it was before. Photographs of Brooks and I line the mantel as wellas photos of the three of us and his sister and niece. Decorative vases with fake bamboo plants sit on the once bare coffee table, and a large throw blanket drapes the back of the couch with coordinating pillows. The once bare walls have some of Brooks’ sports memorabilia mixed with some tasteful art to brighten up the space.
“Uh. What happened in here?” I say with wide eyes.
“There’s more,” Camden says, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hall toward the guest room he has been staying in. Flinging the door open to his room, my jaw drops. It’s decorated how Camden has been begging me to redo his room for months. But how? Why?
I turn to look at Brooks, who has followed us. “You did this?”
He nods as Camden continues to speak a mile per minute about all the details he put into the room. “Oh, and he made me a game room.”
