“Wow, no more bachelor pad penthouse? What will all the ladies think?” he teases.
I sit on the coffee table and face him. “There hasn’t been anyone since the night I got your sister drunk and knocked her up,” I reply with a wicked grin. Mostly because I know he’s going to hate that visual.
“Fuck, man, don’t say shit like that.” Alex sobers for a second and adds, “We could always take them to my apartment. No one would think to look for her there. Your place will probably be swarmed with even more photographers.”
“Good point,” I concede, trying to figure out how to safely get her and Row out of the house and into Alex’s.
“Umm, excuse me. Does anyone want to know what I think?” The look she gives us lets us know she’s not too pleased with our decision-making. As I open my mouth to reply, she holds up her hand, cutting me off. “I’m staying here. This is my home, Tate. They’re not running me off.”
“I think you need to consider what he’s saying,” Alex jumps in.
“No, I’m not leaving, Alex.” She turns those gorgeous eyes on me. “I understand our life will be a little different because of you. My son’s father is a professional athlete, so I get that we’ll have to be a little more careful with our safety, but I refuse to move or run away. They’ll get bored soon. Someone else famous will draw their attention. I won’t let them dictate how I live my life.”
“It won’t happen overnight. They’re relentless,” I argue.
She just smiles. “Your bad boy persona wasn’t made overnight either. I don’t expect it to go away just as quickly.”
I return her grin with my own. “Okay, well, if we’re staying, I’m going to need to run home and get some clothes. I assume I can use your couch again?”
Ashtyn just shrugs. “There’s room in my bed.”
“Gross,” Alex mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his face and standing up.
My cell phone pings, signaling a text. When I pull it out, I announce, “Todd just emailed me the drafted press release.” I switch over to my email app and spot the one from Todd, but there’s also one below it that catches my attention. “The test results.” I tap on the email as Ashtyn moves beside me. My eyes scan the document, which confirms what we already knew. “99.9 percent. It’s official. He’s my son.”
“I told you he was,” Ash says, elbowing me in the gut playfully.
“I know, Sweetness, but to actually see it in writing, it’s an amazing feeling.”
Ashtyn smiles, and I almost lean down and kiss her again. Her lips are too tasty, too tempting to pass up. However, she reminds me of the other email in my inbox. I read through the press release, making a few notes. I read it out loud and get Alex and Ashtyn’s opinions, and only when they’re both satisfied, do I send it back to Todd.
Just as I slip my phone back into my pocket, I hear a cry from the bedroom. Holding up my hand, I head off to where my son is. “Hey, Row,” I whisper, as I scoop him up and cradle him to my chest. He’s already grown so much in the short weeks he’s been in my life.
Kissing his forehead, we walk to the nursery for a diaper change. I don’t even complain when I unfasten the onesie and find the smelly surprise he left me. Instead, I tell him all about finding that email in my inbox and what it means to be his father. Rowan gazes up at me, hanging on my every word, as I clean him up and get him ready for food.
When I turn around, I find Ashtyn standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, wearing the slightest grin. “Where’s your brother?”
“He ran to pick up some food. We figured since we’re chilling here for the rest of the day, we might as well eat deep-dish pizza.”
I kiss Rowan’s head before handing him off to his mother. “You know what I still don’t understand?” I ask, meeting her gorgeous brown eyes.
“What?”
“We used a condom.”
“We did.”
“That must mean I have super sperm or something,” I boast, a cocky grin on my face.
Ashtyn snorts. “Or something is right,” she teases, brushing by me and heading for the glider.
I help make sure she’s comfy as she gets Rowan positioned in her arms. I try not to sneak a peek as she pulls up her top and releases her nursing bra. I try not to, but I don’t succeed. I totally steal a glance, but not exactly for the reason you’d expect. It’s quite interesting to watch her nurse our child. Rowan knows exactly what to do and latches on right away. His little cheeks work hard as he eats, and I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from it.
“You know, this one here is my favorite play in the whole playbook,” I tell her, running my finger against his arm.
“Which one?”
I take in the sight of my son and say, “The quarterback keeper.”
Chapter Ten
Ashtyn
It’s been six weeks since the world found out the playboy quarterback is a father. I wish I could say they’ve left us alone, but that’d be a lie. They still follow him and snap pictures of every aspect of his life, but they’re just different now. We’ve been photographed taking walks through the neighborhood, grocery shopping, and enjoying dinner at a local restaurant. They’ve even come into the library a few times, lingering between stacks of books, just to see if Tate will make an appearance. So far they’ve lucked out, but since my numbers for library cards have increased, I’m not complaining too much.
A judge signed off this week on the addendum to Rowan’s birth certificate. He’s now officially Rowan Alexander Steele. As happy as I was to give this gift to both Rowan and Tate, it was the happiness reflecting in his eyes that made me the happiest. I know my son has the best father out there, someone who will forever put Rowan’s needs before his own, and that gives me more joy than I ever could have expected.
Alex still comes over weekly and doesn’t seem to be too upset to see his best friend practically living in my house. In fact, they get along better now than they did before, if that’s possible. Of course, they had to work out a few issues, like why Tate didn’t tell Alex before he found out through the tabloids. Alex was still upset we kept it from him but understood when we explained our reasoning a little more.
My parents are coming for another visit next week, since Tate and Alex will be gone at training camp. Tate’s family has already made one long weekend trip to meet their grandson and are planning another one soon.
Preseason starts next week. Training camp is set, and Tate is more determined than ever to take his team to the top. He wants a championship ring so bad he can taste it and is ready to put in the hard work to make sure it happens. His workouts are intense and he’s spending extra time combing over game films and playbooks. Yet, he’s always here for Rowan, gives him nightly baths, and helps with the bedtime routine.
Which brings us to now. After spending much of the evening in the home library, shifting through information from the coaching staff, Tate is finally in the shower. Rowan is passed out in his crib, and I’m pacing the bedroom. I’m nervous. When I glance down at myself, I don’t see the confident, sexy woman I once was. Instead, I see a mom, ten-weeks post-baby, and I worry this navy negligee isn’t hiding the baby fat I’m still carrying in the midsection the way I had hoped it would.