Page 9 of One and Only

She laughed. Her smile transformed her face—bright eyes and pretty lips that I shouldn’t have noticed. “Shocking, I know.” Greer set down the pen. “Someone offered to analyze my handwriting once, but I said no because I was so afraid he’d say I had hidden psychopath tendencies because of how I swooped my y’s.”

I wanted to smile, but I didn’t. Greer’s shoulders rolled with obvious tension.

“Do you have a picture of her room now?” she asked.

“Uh, it’s not … it’s not set up for her, per se.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my email. The guest room still looked exactly the way it had been staged for the real estate photos. “I just moved in a few weeks ago, and she doesn’t stay with me much during the season. She lives with her mom most of the time.”

Greer’s eyes tracked over my face as I handed her the phone. The guest room of my new house was devoid of any personality. A queen bed with a solid color comforter sat in the middle of the large room, a beige armchair tucked into the corner by a tall nondescript lamp.

It was generic and bare, and I’d hardly noticed until I decided to make the room something special for Olive.

Greer tried to hide her wince.

“This is in Portland?”

I shook my head. “It’s east of Salem. That’s where her school is, and we want to keep her routine as consistent as possible, so I commute the hour or so to the team facilities when necessary.”

Greer bit down on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. “Okay.”

Was she judging me? Wondering why I was just now moving closer to my daughter?

Most of my teammates knew about Olive, but only a couple knew any deeper than the obvious. Parker Wilder was one of them. Clearly, he hadn’t shared any details with his sister.

“Is she …” Greer paused, shaking her head as she reconsidered her question. “Can I see a picture of her?”

I nodded. I didn’t have many pictures on my camera roll. Ninety percent of them were Olive. When I found the last one I’d snapped, my heart ached in a sudden, fierce sort of way. It was rare that she’d smile for anyone, let alone for a picture by herself. Usually, she’d tuck her face against the side of my neck and peek out at the camera when I took a picture of the two of us.

But I’d caught her crouched in the grass of my new backyard, patiently waiting for a small yellow and white butterfly to land on her finger. When it did, she looked over at me—eyes bright and smile wide.

Greer made a soft, happy sound when she looked at the picture.

“She’s beautiful,” she said quietly. “Those big, dark eyes.” She stared for a few more moments, then pulled her gaze up to mine. “Do you mind if I text myself this picture?”

“What for?”

“This is the inspiration for her room,” she said, eyes back on the photo. “Anything that makes her that happy should be worked in.”

“Yeah,” I said roughly. “Go ahead.”

The amount of time I was apart from Olive never felt larger, had never loomed so ominously over my head as it did in moments like that. When a stranger picked up on something about her that I hadn’t.

And I was her father.

As Greer’s fingers tapped efficiently on my phone screen, I studied her.

She was very, very beautiful.

The slight curl of attraction I felt beneath my ribs was wholly unwelcome, given what was going on in my life and the bigness of how it was about to change. But I could hardly make it disappear.

It triggered something edgy and uncomfortable in my brain. I should be able to make it disappear, if for no other reason than I didn’t have time in my life to be attracted to a new woman.

“Is that all you need from me?” I asked.

My tone was harsher than I anticipated, and Greer’s face showed it. She carefully set the phone down on the table and slid it in my direction. My hands were fisted under the table, and I made a conscious effort to relax them before I even contemplated pulling them into view.

“What’s my budget?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Spend whatever you need. I want it to be perfect.”

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