Page 67 of Passing the Red Line
“Actually, I found a place to live, so I won’t be staying there anymore. I'm sorry but the dinner part a few times a week can still happen. My new place isn’t far from you, I can pop in whenever you want,” I add, trying not to disappoint him in any way.
“You found a place?” He asks, more out of curiosity and not anger.
“Yeah, I–,” I'm about to tell him that I moved in with Christian but that might be a bad idea, so I stop. “An opportunity came up with a friend, so I took it.”
My heart does something funny at the word friend but it had to be said. My dad doesn’t need to know I’m living and sharing a bed with one of his players. So wherever my dad is concerned, Christian Rodriguez is myfriend.
“A permanent opportunity?” I can hear hope in his question.
I can’t help but smile at the thought of me and Christian being permanent. “Yeah, a very permanent one.”
“Good, I’m glad,” my dad says through the speaker.
“Me too,” I say looking down at the phone, part of me wishing that we were having this conversation in person.
“I guess we should have a dinner officially welcoming you to Chicago.”
I nod at the phone. “I would like that. When do you want to do it?”
My dad starts answering the question but it’s quickly cut off by a door opening somewhere in the house and then Christian’s voice ringing through.
“Babe, please tell me your home! I have a poop situation I need help with!”
Poop situation? What the fuck is a poop situation and why do I have to help?
“Babe?” My dad’s question fills the room. The confusion in his voice makes me cringe. He definitely is not going to believe the wholefriendthing now.
“Eliana, where are you? I seriously need help,” Christian yells out, and I have to severely hope that my dad doesn’t recognize his voice.
“I’m coming!” I yell in the direction of the hallway, before taking my phone off speaker and try to end the call with my dad before Christian comes in here and outs us. “Dad, I have to go, but I will take you up on that dinner. Set it up and send me the information and I will be there.” He starts saying something but I quickly cut him off. “Okay, bye!”
I quickly end the call and cross my fingers that my dad was not able to tell that my boyfriend’s voice sounds exactly like one of his players.
Pocketing my phone, I abandon all the camera gear, compose myself a bit so that Christian doesn’t notice that I’ve been crying and head out to the living area of the condo. I’m still getting used to the layout, but it’s a really nice place. Apparently Christian knows how to pick out real estate.
I walk into the living room, and the second that I do, I have to do a few double takes.
Christian is standing by the front door with a stroller in front of him and a baby in his arms. When a bark sounds out, I become even more confused about the scene that is playing out in front of me.
“I’m sorry, but why do you have a baby?” I ask, my eyes moving from him to the baby that’s in his arms. The bundle of joy is thrashing against him and if I had to guess from the whimpers that I’m hearing, the baby is about to cry.
“Liam and Chloe put me on Emma duty until otherwise specified,” he grunts out, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as Emma starts to whimper even more. “I think she exploded in her diaper. She smells so bad. It’s the second time she’s done it to me today. I’m starting to think she hates me.”
I’m about to say something to him, but I’m interrupted by a bark that is coming from the stroller.
“Um, is there a reason why the stroller is barking?”
“Because I’m also on puppy duty,” he informs me, turning the stroller so that it faces me. Sure enough there is a golden retriever puppy in the stroller. “You got a choice. Dirty diaper or watching the puppy and making sure that it doesn’t eat anything in the apartment. Please choose dirty diaper.”
I close the distance between us, and give him a smile and flutter of my eyelashes all before giving him my answer. “Puppy.”
He’s narrowing his eyes at me. “I hate you.”
I smile. I’m usually the one that tells him that.
“Too bad. You’re stuck with me,” I say, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Now go take care of Emma before Liam kicks your ass because you didn’t change his daughter’s diaper in time.”
He rolls his eyes, but pushes the puppy in the baby stroller over to me and grumbles as he walks over to the couch about how he is done taking bets that involve diapers.
