Page 68 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“You’ve got room for improvement, but you’re not the worst.” She gives a little half shrug, her arms still crossed in front of her.

“You were pissed at me a few minutes ago.”

“I’m still a little pissed,” she says wryly. “But it wasn’t that long ago I almost let my anger get in the way of Mom’s happiness, and I’m trying not to make the same mistake. You say this is different, and I believe you. I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt to see that picture, so I’ll only hold it against you for…three weeks.”

“Why three weeks?”

“That’s how long between when you could’ve told me until now.”

“Fair enough.” I grin at her logic. “So, then you’ll meet her?”

“It depends. How old is she?” She narrows her eyes.

“Twenty-eight.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable. Does she wear actual clothes or just workout wear and club dresses? And does she eat anything besides salad?”

“Now you’re just being cruel.” I don’t even try to hide my smirk. “Yes, she wears business suits and eats like a horse. And before you ask, she absolutely hates football.”

“You could’ve led with that.” She snorts.

“You really think I’m not the worst dad?” I know she’s right and I could stand to improve, and right now I really need to know she believes I’m capable of that.

“I didn’t say you were totally off the hook. But yeah. You’re really not the worst dad.” Her arms drop to her sides.

I pull her to me and wrap her in a hug. “I love you, kiddo. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I know. I love you too.” She hugs me back.

* * *

“So, everything’s okay with Sawyer?” Sam runs her finger idly over my chest as we lay in bed.

I’m no stranger to women staying over, but lounging in bed and talking after sex is new, and kind of nice. It’s almost more intimate than the sex itself, which I didn’t think was possible, until now.

“Mostly. She told me she’s going to stay mad for three weeks since that’s how long it was between the time I could have told her about you and when I actually did. After that she’ll be ready to move on and meet you.” I run my finger along her arm.

“That’s fair, I guess?” It’s more a question than a statement.

“More than fair. You were right about me needing some time with Sawyer separate from girlfriends, so waiting to introduce you was the right call. Where I screwed up was in not saying anything. I figured I’d tell her at the same time I introduced you, but looking back, that might’ve been just as bad as her seeing our picture in a tabloid.”

“Either way would have been a shock, I suppose,” she says softly.

“Either way, I screwed up. I’m not very good at this parenting thing.” That’s the coward’s way of leading into a conversation about kids, but since I’m afraid of the answer, I’m not interested in being too direct.

“Sawyer must think you do okay, or she wouldn’t be willing to forgive you.” I shiver slightly as her fingers graze my nipple.

“Sawyer’s more forgiving than I deserve. She also has a tendency to make excuses for me, like not having a dad left me without an example of how to be one. Or football is to blame for my shortcomings instead of me.”

“Is she right?” Sam props her head up to look at me. “I imagine not having a dad around would make it difficult to understand what being a dad entails.”

We’ve never talked about my dad before, and I love that instead of plying me with sympathy over his absence, she stays focused on what I’m really trying to say.

“No,” I tell her honestly. “I didn’t miss out on anything, and I had plenty of coaches plus my mom to give me good examples. I just didn’t pay attention to them.”

“How come?”

“Youth? Rebelling against too much responsibility too soon? I’ve never been good at dividing my attention, as you know.” I kiss her forehead, “And back then, I didn’t try to. I justified my actions because focusing on football allowed me to provide for my family, but I also just wanted to play. It was my dream, and I put it first.”

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