in his seat before he turns to the team. “Boys, I know Rider’s grateful you’re here, but some of today’s discussion will be private, so I need you to wait downstairs.”
Tank gives me a sympathetic look as he fist-bumps me. Half the team grabs my shoulder. Even Meyers, my replacement, leans down to wish me luck.
It kinda chokes me up, to be honest.
Once the guys are gone, the door opens again, and heels click across the Spanish tile, and for a brief moment, I think it’s Gabby.
It hits me. I love that woman. So fucking much. And I’m the biggest idiot on the planet for not begging for her forgiveness the other night.
Yes, I’ve been freaked out about football and what’s going to happen with my career. Yes, I’ve been sleep-deprived and worried sick, but above all that noise, the truth levels me: if I get the game back, but she walks out of my life, it’ll wreck me.
I swallow. Hard. How the hell am I gonna make it right between us again?
I’ve been a mess all week. When my dad called to bitch me out yesterday, I lost it. At first, I hoped he’d called to support me, to say something fucking fatherly for once. To offer some advice. But no, he just wanted to rub my face in the scandal and call me a dumbass for getting serious with Gabby.
I snapped, yelled shit I knew he wanted to hear just to get him off the phone, but it rattled me. How could someone who supposedly loved me believe the worst about me?
Of course, if Gabby really thinks you’re fucking someone else behind her back, maybe you are the dumbass your father claims you are for falling for her when you should have your eyes on the prize and your heart on the game. Not on your neighbor who may want to rip your balls from your body.
As stern, unsympathetic faces stare at me from across the table, I shake my head. Now is obviously not the time to be obsessing over Gabby.
I cradle Poppy in my arms, and she sniffles. Grabbing the wad of tissue from my coat pocket, I wipe her little face and hand her a bottle from the diaper bag. She takes it eagerly. Thank God she has her appetite back.
When Mrs. Hildebrand stands next to Coach, I do a double-take.
Oh, fuck.
Why the hell is she here? Is she going to detail all of the ways I’m a sub-par parent? Maybe start making the case about why she should get custody?
I wipe my sweaty palms on my slacks and try to look stoic instead of scared shitless.
“Adele, dear. What are you doing here?” Dr. Isaacson asks.
If I thought I was fucked before, it’s nothing like the out-of-body experience I have when I realize Poppy’s great-grandmother and Dr. Isaacson know each other. My mouth goes so dry, I cough.
“Hello, James. It’s lovely to see you. I apologize for showing up unannounced, but I think I can put this little situation behind us quickly.”
When he offers her a seat, torment twists my gut as I realize my whole damn career lies in Adele’s hands.
Everyone looks at me, and I shrug. What the hell am I supposed to say? I scramble to think back to last weekend when we met for the first time. Was I a total asshole to her? Gabby was the only one who could calm her down.
I look around for a trash can in case I puke.
Because this goes down in one of two ways—she either saves my ass or puts the final nail in my coffin.
It’s a toss-up.
I half-thought she was behind the blog article so she could get custody of Poppy. The coffee I had this morning threatens to come up, and I swallow hard.
Mrs. Hildebrand eyes me for the longest minute of my life before she turns to the provost. “James, do you remember my granddaughter Margot? God love her, but she tends to land herself in trouble. As you can see.” She holds her hand out toward me where I rock Poppy in my lap.
Dr. Isaacson suddenly looks very uncomfortable. “Are you… are you saying that Margot is this child’s… mother?”
“Yes. Now, I realize the optics of what happened are somewhat unsavory. However, I have personally investigated what occurred. When Margot could not care for her child, she dropped off the baby at Mr. Kingston’s house. Unfortunately, her note… seems to have gotten smudged or became illegible, so the boys