More hope than I have right now, sitting next to Maggie, who sits next to the other man in her life. We shook hands when he walked in but didn’t exchange names. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. I don’t even know where he came from. London, maybe? It’s not like we’re going to be friends, and if I have my way, I’ll never have to see him again after this.
Actually, I don’t know if he’s in Maggie’s life or not, but I don’t want to refer to him as the other man, because I’m not her man. At all. And I have zero intentions of being hers again. I’ve made myself very clear—if she’s pregnant with my child, I’ll be there for the child. I don’t want to be with someone I’m not in love with.
The three of us wait in an office, which I feel is overkill. Why couldn’t all of this be done with a phone call or a letter in the mail. This is what Maggie wanted—the dramatics of it all. Over the past few weeks, I’ve come to realize she loves the limelight and attention. The more dramatic, the better for her. I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier, but it’s clear as day now. What I also never knew is she wanted me to look a certain way. The Maggie Gardner way with styled hair, clean shaven, and always in a suit and tie. The dirty looks she’s given me since I’ve walked in dressed in jeans and a hoodie, with a week’s worth of facial hair is testament to what I’ve discovered.
All of this makes me miss Kelsey more. I mean, I know why she likes my gray sweatpants, but she never told me to change or shave. She never commented on whether I gelled my hair or not. She just wanted to be with me, and I allowed my stupidity around Maggie to mess that up.
Finally, the doctor or whoever it is we’re waiting for comes in. She introduces herself but I don’t bother to let her name register in my mind. I’m already on edge. Nervous. As much as I want to be a parent—someday—it’s not with Maggie, and I don’t want this to ruin my chances with Kelsey. I shake my head when that thought runs through my mind because it makes me feel like a selfish prick. Children are a gift. I know this much from being an uncle. This just isn’t the ideal situation.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” the doctor says, with a beaming smile, as if this is fun. She looks at each of us.
“Can we get on with it?” I ask with a heavy sigh.
“This isn’t Maury,” Maggie says.
“Then why does it feel like that’s exactly what we’re doing?” I ask her. “I’m pretty damn sure that was your plan; bring us both onto national TV, yell and scream, and expect one of us to dance a jig when Maury says, ‘you’re not the father.’”
Maggie says nothing and tries to smile at the doctor.
“Can you tell me if I’m the father?” I ask the doctor.
“You’re not,” she says.
“Thank you.” I stand and take large strides to exit the room, not waiting to hear if the other guy is the father or not. I’m not and that’s all that matters. As soon as I’m in the parking garage I let out a huge bellow. People look at me oddly, but I don’t care. They have no idea what I just went through.
On the way to my truck, I text Noah.
NOT MINE!
Noah Westbury
Dude!
Congratulations
I’m sorry she put you through that.
Now what?
Now, I try to win Kelsey back.
I have a plan.
Noah Westbury
Peyton says let us know if we can help.
I will
And thanks for being my friend.
I really needed it these past few weeks.
Noah Westbury
That’s what I’m here for.
I want to tell Kelsey, but something like this has to be done in person. When I say those words to her, I want to see her expression when they sink in for her. I’m barely in my truck when Maggie and her friend come into the parking garage. I’m not even tempted to know the results and pull out of my spot just as they pass by. I can’t tell if either of them are happy or not. For all I know, she wants him to be her baby’s father, and I’m okay with it. What I’m not okay with is how she used me when she returned. Showing up at my house unexpectedly, like nothing has happened between us and acting like I didn’t have a girlfriend, was wrong on so many levels. She’s not the person I fell in love with years ago. This much is evident.
After paying my parking fee, I head to Cameron’s to pick him up before we go to Willamette Publishing to take Basha to the airport. They’ve gone on a couple of dates, and I can’t really tell if they’re into each other or not, but this is better than me having to hoist Basha into my truck. Clearly, I made the mistake of leaving Rizzo at home, as it would’ve made more sense to drive her today, but I hate being on the freeway with a small car like that. People drive like assholes until they see my truck. Then they’re not so cocky in their Mercedes.
As soon as Basha exits the building Cameron jumps out and grabs her suitcase and puts it in the back. He helps her into the front seat and then climbs into the back.
“Do you have your tickets?” I ask her. She’s on her way to San Diego for a conference and plans to stay an extra day to catch our game. Due to some weird weather pattern, it’s going to be in the eighties all week down there and she wants to take advantage. Honestly, I don’t blame her. I wish Coach took us down early.
Basha pats her bag. “I do, and everything’s set.”
“Perfect.”
“Did you find out?” she asks.
“Not mine,” I tell her as I eye Cameron through the rear-view mirror. Noah’s the only one I’ve told, but people have seen Maggie at the games, and of course, her pregnancy hit the news wire with the headline being we’re expecting. We’re not. She is.
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”
“Fuck that,” I say. “It’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”
The three of us make idle chit chat, mostly about the things to do in San Diego. I haven’t been, other than for games, but according to Cameron I really need to visit. Basha says the beaches are amazing down there, and she’s definitely looking forward to the spa day she has booked.
When we get to the airport, Cameron jumps out to help Basha with her things. “I’m going to walk her in,” he says. “You should circle around.”
“Sure.” If I didn’t owe Basha my life, I’d tell Cameron to fuck off because circling around Portland airport isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. Still, I do as he asks because I’m a nice fucking guy and this will bring a smile to Basha’s face.
Instead of circling, I leave the area and park off to the side at the nearest cell phone lot. I text Cameron to let him know where I am and to just let me know when he’s ready to come get him. Airport romance—I’m sure that’s a book somewhere, and if not, maybe Kelsey needs to ask one of her authors to write it for her.