Page 10 of The Single Dads Club
Ella lets out a cry from the bedroom, and Ryleigh hops down from the stool beside me.
I place my hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Let me. You eat.” I hate to think about the idea that this might be her only meal today, but it very well could be.
Ella is lying on her back, her tiny arms and legs flailing as she lets out frustrated cries. “Come here, little princess,” I murmur softly as I lift her from the bedding.
I return to the kitchen and finish the rest of breakfast holding my fork in one hand and a soothed baby in the other.
Ryleigh shoots me curious glances whenever she thinks I’m not looking, and I’m not sure what to make of her expressions. I don’t want her to think I’m overstepping some invisible “the help is nice now, but what happens tomorrow to Ella and me” line. But I do want Ryleigh to realize that there are good people in this world. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s also one of the good people. She could have just as easily taken Ella to child protective services when her roommate abandoned her baby ... but she didn’t.
My heart beats over time when our hands brush as she collects our plates. I’m not nervous, but I’m really, really aware of her. Her honey hair is starting to slip from her bun and for some strange reason I want to run my fingers through it.
After we clean up from breakfast, we pack up her and Ella’s things and load them into my car. I have just enough time to drop them off at home and make it to the training facility. We ride in comfortable silence to her place. I linger at her front door as she unlocks it. I may have just met Ryleigh yesterday—this woman who stirs something inside me—but some part of me isn’t ready to walk away.
“Thanks again, Alexei. I don’t know how I could repay you for ...”
I hold up one hand, stopping her. I don’t want her to repay me. I meant what I’d said when I told her no strings. “It was really no trouble. If anything, I need to repay you for making those eggs this morning.”
She smiles and takes Ella from me as she steps inside. “Have a good practice.”
I nod, suddenly at a loss for words, and then it hits me. This is most likely the last time I’ll see Ryleigh. We’re strangers. She doesn’t fit in my life, and I certainly don’t belong in hers. And yet ... I find myself reluctant to leave.
The realization that Coach will ride my ass if I’m even thirty seconds late makes me move quicker back to my car, but not before I turn and look back at this woman and the child who doesn’t belong to her, and wonder what their future holds.
***
“Let’s go! Where’s the hustle, Ivan?” Coach yells from the sidelines, and then blows his whistle.
I jog to the sidelines and take a deep drink of water. He’s right. I’m distracted as fuck and playing like shit.
My teammates notice it, as do the coaching staff, and there’s no excuse for it, other than Ryleigh. My mind is on her instead of practice.
I’m wondering if her heat got turned back on, if she’ll be okay—and not just today. I find myself thinking about what happens next for her, which is crazy. That baby’s not mine. I shouldn’t even care. I’ve always taken great care to wrap my shit up every single time so I don’t end up knocking up some girl and be in the same situation as her roommate. I’ve seen the huge responsibility of having a baby, and I’m in no fucking hurry to become a father.
But then why is my mind stuck on them both?
We finish practice, and I stomp off the turf toward the locker rooms.
“A word, Ivan!” Coach calls out from behind me.
Carrying my helmet, I jog back to where he waits.
“Something going on with you?”
I shake my head and try to move the knots that have settled between my shoulders. “Just didn’t get enough sleep last night.”At least that much is true.“I’ll be ready for the game Sunday.”
A vein throbs in his forehead as he runs one hand over the back of his neck. “You’d better be.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod and jog off, releasing a heavy exhale.
Frustrated, I move through my post-practice routine in silence, removing my pads and gear, stripping down, and showering under the warm spray. By the time I’m done toweling off, I don’t feel any better, but I know what I need to do. I need to see Ryleigh. Need to see with my own eyes that she’s fine, and then I’ll move on, let them live their lives and I’ll go back to living mine. She said she had to work today, so I decide that’s where I’ll go first.
I dress in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. A few minutes later, I’m out the door and heading toward a certain topless bar ... toward a certain woman who’s constantly on my mind.
When I arrive, I park my car, making sure to lock it, and then head inside.
Blinking to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, I approach the hostess station, already looking around for Ryleigh. I don’t see her, but a blond hostess smiles at me and grabs a sticky menu as she steps out front to greet me. She’s in a skintight black dress that’s so short, I’m sure if she bent over, I’d see what color her panties are—if she’s even wearing any panties in this “upscale” establishment.
“Hi, handsome. One for lunch?” she asks.
