Chapter 29
Lance
“Lance. Oh, for God's sake. Lance, wake up!”
It was Honey Badger's voice. And thanks to his pounding headache, she sounded more shrill and demanding than usual. Lance gave a grunt, dismissively waved his arm at her as if to tell her to go the hell away, and rolled on his opposite side.
Ella stamped through his bedroom, stumbling over the clothes and trash on his floor in the process. “Ugh, gross. I can't believe you're a millionaire and yet you still live like a pig. I'm so tired of telling you that. If your lady sees your room like this, she'll never take you back. And I wouldn't blame her, either.”
She went from window to window, yanking the cords to his Venetian blinds. The wooden blinds flew up like a locomotive with a skull-splitting clickety-clackety-clack! Then the bright white winter sun burned into Lance's retinas. He shielded his eyes, hissing like a vampire, and crawled under his pillow for refuge. But Ella hurried over and pulled it right off him.
“The hell, Honey Badger?”
“Get up, Lance!”
“It's so early,” he moaned.
“Actually, it's past noon.”
“But I'm hungover as hell.”
“I can see that, genius. I told you to stop drinking or you wouldn't be able to do anything today. Wait. You do remember asking for my help last night, right?”
A lot of last night was still foggy, but he did remember it clearly. At Club Regret, he told Ella all about Paige and Irie. How had she reacted? At first, she told him he was an idiot. He'd knocked up a girl that he didn't even know? “Stupid! Dumb! You moron, Lance!”
But she stopped flinging insults when she realized how truly heart broken he was over losing Paige and Irie. Until she heard why he lost them, anyway. “You left them at the airport?! What the hell is wrong with you!?”
And then he showed her the videos: first, the one from the hockey game, when he and Irie first saw each other. “Ohmygod she's so adorable!” And then he showed her the pictures and videos he took at Paige's apartment, when he got to spend a lot of quality time with Irie. Ella's jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw those. “You're actually kind of a good dad, Lance. Whoa. Never saw that coming. That is definitely your baby girl, by the way.”
And then he told Ella all about his plans to move them to Boston but then Kip Sterling stepped in and now he'd fucked it all up and Paige didn't want anything to do with him anymore. And they spent the rest of the night brainstorming ideas how he could win her back.
Ella tapped her feet impatiently at his bedside. “Hellooo? Earth to Lance! Do you remember asking for my help last night or not?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”
“So do you want my help or not?”
“I do.”
“Then you're going to get up, take a shower, and then you're going to clean your room.” She swore under her breath. “I can't believe how much I sound like our Mom right now, thanks to you.”
“Alright, alright.” Lance clambered out of bed.
But before he dragged his lifeless body to the shower, he paused.
“Hey, Ella.”
“Yeah?”
He hugged her tight. “Thanks a lot. You're doing me a huge favor. This means everything to me.”
She hugged him back. “Aw, Lance.”
***
After an invigorating shower—and an egg-and-cheese sandwich plus coffee from the deli across the street—Lance was a new man.
While Ella went to work in Radar's old bedroom, Lance took care of his own room. She was right; his living quarters were nasty. Since they were kids, she'd bitched at him about his mess—but hell, so did Radar when they lived together.
Lance had learned to keep his mess contained to his bedroom. He figured it'd always be there, that if he ever settled down with someone, they'd either have to live with it or take care of it themselves. But with his shot with Paige on the line, he wasn't willing to take any chances. He bagged up all his dirty clothes and had them sent to the dry-cleaners. The trash he picked up, bagged, threw away. Every surface was dusted and wiped clean, his floors swept and mopped.
Ella came by to appreciate his work. “Whoa. Good job, dude. It looks like an actual human lives here now.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He retrieved the phone with as much moxie as he had the other twenty times his phone had buzzed that day—even though he'd been let down every one of those times.
This time, though, he wasn't. It was a text from Paige. He read it aloud, so his sister could hear it, too.
“Hey Lance. Sorry I didn't reply to your messages yesterday, but I needed some time and space to think. I'll be coming to Boston in three days, so we can arrange to meet up to take your paternity test. Maybe you'd like to spend some time with Irie too? My parents have paid for my flight and the hotel I'll be staying at. I appreciate your earlier offer, but I don't want you to pay for anything until you can be sure that Irie is your daughter. It's only fair to you that way.”
“What do you make of that?” he asked Ella. “Do I still have a chance? Or does she hate my guts?”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Seems pretty diplomatic, so I don't think she hates your guts—yet.”
“Yet?” Lance gave his sister a playful shove. “Get outta here, Honey Badger.”
Ella grinned. “Anyway, the fact that she's staying at a hotel means you've got an uphill battle to win her over.”
“Yeah. True. Damn.”
Ella patted his back. “Don't give up yet, big bro. Hey, why don't you come see how the room looks so far? And if you're done in here, I could use your help.”
“Yeah, okay, let's do it.”