Page 19 of Third and Ten

“Tenley,” I correct her with a polite smile. “My mom said she set up an appointment for me?”

“She did. And Mr. Bourgeois will be ready for you in a second. Just let me tell him that you’re here.”

I sigh. Of course I’m meeting with frat boy Blake instead of old man Donald or harmless, middle-aged Mark. It’s beginning to seem like I can’t go anywhere without running into a Bourgeois or someone willing to bring them up in conversation.

The receptionist reappears and leads me down the hall to one of the offices. I peer around the room as she introduces us, already feeling uncomfortable with all the signed jerseys plastered on the wall, since most of them are sporting a BOURGEOIS III patch on the back. There are also a few encased footballs and baseballs on the back bookshelf.

I redirect my attention when Blake stands and leans over his desk to initiate a polite handshake. He’s almost as tall as his younger brother, though a good bit slimmer and more clean-cut. Blake’s what I would call classically handsome, with his light hair, sharp features, and blue eyes. Luckily, I’ve known him since kindergarten and have built up an immunity to his infamous charm, if not a distaste.

“Find something interesting?” he asks, hiking his thumb back.

“Oh, uh, yeah. That’s an impressive collection.” I try my best to recover, hoping he doesn’t think I’m checking him out or fangirling over JD’s old jerseys. “JJ Watt?” I inquire, gesturing toward one of the autographed footballs as I settle into a fancy leather chair across from him.

He cocks an eyebrow, seemingly impressed. “Yeah, a gift from my brother. Of course, most of this was.”

I nod, trying to remain impassive at his casual mention of JD. “That’s a pretty cool perk, I guess.”

“Definitely. But we all know he makes friends wherever he goes, right?” I can sense he’s measuring my reaction carefully as he sits behind his desk.

I try to force a light laugh without sounding overzealous. “I can imagine.”

Dammit. Now he probably thinks I’ve been imagining things about JD.

Blake only smiles warmly and clears his throat, signaling that it’s time to get down to business. “So, your mom called me the other day and said you’d be coming in to file for guardianship of Ethan?”

“Right, yes. That’s the plan.”

“How’s his ankle, by the way?” he inquires, and I’m surprised at the genuine concern in his expression.

“Better. The doctor will probably clear him to return to football this week, though I think making the front page of the newspaper and getting a hand-delivered game ball from his coach may have helped with his recovery.”

Ugh. Now I’m bringing up JD again.

“I’ll bet.” He laughs politely, and I’m grateful he doesn’t dwell on my comment. “So, do you have any questions about the process?”

“Would you mind explaining the basics?” I ask with a hopeful smile.

“Sure,” he begins. “Since Ethan’s legal birth certificate didn’t name his father, your mom and dad were granted legal custody at your sister’s passing, and we’ll basically be transferring those rights solely to you. There are other options, like emancipation—which would make Ethan legally responsible for himself—and adoption, but Mrs. Therese said that y’all would prefer to leave Tessa’s name on Ethan’s birth certificate.”

I nod, taking in all the information. “Right. I think we’re going with guardianship. So where do we start?”

“We typically file for temporary custody first, and then proceed to finalizing guardianship—or full custodianship, in Louisiana—at a second court date, given no one else throws their name in the ring. The proceedings will take at least a few months, barring any complications.”

“But with my parents agreeing to everything from the beginning, it should go pretty smoothly?”

“Yes, assuming no one steps up, claiming to be Ethan’s biological father. Your mom explained she’s made repeated attempts to contact a candidate but never received a response.”

“Mm-hmm,” I agree quietly. I’ve never met the guy my mom suspects is Ethan’s father, since my sister kept his identity a secret from everyone else, but I know he isn’t worth a damn if he refused to even acknowledge the possibility of Ethan being his son. It’s his loss, as far as I am concerned.

“You’ll also need to prove you’re a suitable guardian with an adequate home,” Blake continues. “Your mom said you’d be filing solely? No, uh, spouse or significant other that might come into play?”

“Nope, just me,” I answer.

Yeah, this isn’t awkward at all.

“The next step is to establish yourself in the community since you’re filing for custody here. Unless you plan to move Ethan with you to…Waco, was it? If so, you’d have to file in Texas.” He looks down as if he’s reading the information from his notes, but I get the feeling that he’s just feigning professionalism and knows exactly where I’ve been living.

“We’re not going anywhere, at least until Ethan graduates from high school. I also signed a one-year contract at Dr. Simms’s practice with the option to renew next year, and I was just granted hospital privileges in town.”

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