tile and this is all a dream.
Everything since I opened the door is entirely impossible. Plus, I’m now naked. If I could write a list of top ten worst first impressions to make on a pretty woman, I’m pretty sure this will take the number one slot.
Not to mention my naked state.
“Oh!” She spins, putting her back to me. The baby in her arms starts crying and I am speechless.
One weekend. I was careful. She claimed she was too.
What in the world am I supposed to do? There is no playbook for situations like this. And that’s all I know. Studying hockey. Studying games. Being better. Faster. Stronger. People… they are not where I succeed.
“Sorry. I am so sorry about that. But that—” I point at the squished up face. “But this cannot be my baby.”
Her blonde hair sways as she bounces the baby who is now crying louder. “Well, there was a note in the baby’s blanket. He was crying outside your door and there is a diaper bag next to it. And like I said, he was outside your door, not mine, so…”
“I haven’t…” I close my mouth.
I am not admitting to this girl who I’ve always thought is so pretty that I have only had sex with one woman.
One weekend. My twenty-third birthday. The weekend my teammates finally convinced me to let go. It was no secret before then I was a virgin. I’ve played for the Carolina Ice Kings since I was twenty. Hockey is my life. Always has been. It’s been my sole focus. But our season was off to a rocky start. I wasn’t playing well. And for the first time, I allowed myself to be pulled into the mayhem of after game partying. I allowed Newman and Maddox, my teammates, to drag me to a bar… and then I brought a woman home with me.
Angela. She taught me what she liked, and I was a quick learner. Then I realized I liked it a lot of different ways. She was more than willing to let me experiment, let me figure out everything I liked and how to please her.
Two mornings later, she woke up, and after I told her thank you, she smiled and laughed a gentle laugh. There were no promises.
But I also did not think there would be consequences. Not of this magnitude.
“I…” I have no idea what to say but quickly scramble. First, I need to get dressed. In lightweight clothes because I’m sweating like I’ve finished a workout. As I tighten the towel around my waist, I realize I’m shaking. “I don’t know what to do.”
Her pink lips spread into a smile and I’m momentarily distracted from the fact I’m naked and there’s a strange baby screaming in my hallway.
Her smile is that distracting.
“Well, you could go get some clothes on. Take the note and the baby and let me get back to my Friday night.”
Right. The note. The baby. Possibly my baby. This cannot be.
She does have a point.
“Come in? For a moment? Please?”
I do need to get dressed so I step back and hurry down the hallway hoping like hell she does come in, then I send up more prayers that this is a joke. A horrible prank by a teammate. Newman would do this to me because he would think it’s funny.
But where would Newman get a baby? And why?
I am in trouble. Big trouble. Too many thoughts jumble in my mind as I reach my bedroom. I drop the towel and grab the first pair of sweats and shirt I can find, tugging them on, fearing for an attack of my heart. It is too fast. Racing.
I might need a doctor.
I need to get control before I see the pretty woman who I am certain might also be crazy.
Who brings a baby to my door and tells me it’s mine?
Crazy people. That’s who.
This is not happening. It cannot be. My season starts soon. Training camp. Pre-season. Six months of games, three nights a week, traveling.
I cannot be a father.
My hip bumps my dresser as that thought hits and I settle my ass to it, barely holding myself up. My knees might give out. I might faint.
Father.
I cannot be a father.
“Shit.” I scrub my face, heel of my palms press into my closed eyes. I cannot be a father. A dad. En far.
But there is also only one way to find out. From outside the door, the cries of the baby, who is definitely not mine,