Lowell

The feeling I had over dinner with Charlotte and Kimberly stays with me even after I leave and into the next day. It’s possibly because I stayed up half the night looking at each and every photo Charlotte gave me.

The box isn’t even that big, but the four photo albums in it were, and the video at least five hours long. I got the feeling she wasn’t taping it only for herself, but it could be wishful thinking on my part. It’s easier to hope she was planning on cluing me in one day or telling me, than accepting she decided to cut me out of this a long time ago.

It’s hard to think of her being that vindictive especially when I replay the part of the video after Kimberly is born, and Charlotte does skin on skin for the first time. I already know she is an amazing mother, and back when I knew her well, she seemed like an amazing person, but I don’t know that for sure now. I have to go off my feelings and instinct when I look at her, and she tells me to trust her. When I look into her eyes, when I’m simply near her… it’s hard to fight what tells me to stick around.

With Kimberly, I experience even more of that connection because she is a part of me. I never had that before. Technically, I did with my parents, but they were nothing short of useless regarding family, and Lily… I never got to have a real sense of belonging until I spent time with her.

And I don’t want to mess this up. I want to stick around, be wanted, even needed. Watching Jacob and his daughters made me secretly want it too, and now I can have it with Kimberly. I already want to do whatever she asks and know I’ll probably spoil her more than I should, more than Charlotte would like. But it’s what feels right to me, and I haven’t had that in a long time. I’m holding onto it.

“What’s this shipment coming from the furniture store?” Donnie inserts himself in my house like he owns the place. I regret giving him a key sometimes, especially since I live alone and don’t like hearing noises I can’t explain.

“Furniture.” I smirk, getting up from my spot on the couch I’ve been perched on, dreading Saturday afternoon practice but anxious to see Charlotte and Kimberly again.

He flips me off when he comes into view, sitting on the stool by the kitchen island as I lean on the back of the couch, across the walkway between the two rooms. In a suit as always, he wears the same sour expression, something always on his mind.

“For?”

I sigh, figuring I have to tell him at some point. Donnie has been more than my agent for a while and more like my keeper at times. I would need his help down the line in someway anyway.

“A room here for my daughter,” I answer. His expression fades and shapes into a new one so many times I lose count. I thought of it as soon as I got home last night—an empty room I never made into even a guest room or anything useful. Maybe I was thinking ahead, but it seemed right when I ordered every orange little-girl-themed thing I could find.

“Since when?”

I exhale. “Last week. Or more like a few days.” I cross my arms, shrugging my shoulders.

“You’re acting like this isn’t a big deal. This could change everything.”

“How is that?”

“Are you kidding? How many women have I stopped from coming after your money and everything else with any mention of a child they could find?”

I scoff. “Probably not many.” I almost laugh because it sounds absurd. I don’t run around like most any other player or even a normal guy. I tried dating, but it didn’t work with the few who made it long enough to recall.

“This is ridiculous. What proof do you have?” He gets worked up setting his phone down for probably the first time today and facing me on the chair.

“I don’t need any. She looks just like me, and Charlotte wouldn’t lie.”

“Oh.” He makes a comical face. I wave him off for being an ass.

“I’m trying to look out for you, for the brand. Everything we have built.”

“Donnie…”

“No, listen. All I’m asking for is a simple DNA test and some custody papers. Something set in stone saying she can’t do whatever the hell she wants… if the kid is yours.”

I stand and cross some of the space. “She is mine. And I’m not doing any of that. I mean it, Donnie.”

He hardens his deep-set brows at me. “I always do what’s in your best interest, Blake.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes out of the respect I have for knowing he has had my back for a long time but still shut him down just as fast.

“I meant what I said.”

My brain doesn’t process what is going on until I am on my way to Charlotte’s house. The guard at the gate lets me through because he recognizes me from television and not because I was added to the permitted guest list. But I don’t have much to say about that.

When I arrive and ring the doorbell about nine times before someone answers, I’m worried until Charlotte comes bounding out the door, shutting it fast behind her.

“You, asshole!”

I stare down at her, hands brazen, and try not to laugh at her sudden anger. I mean I know it isn’t funny, but I’m taken by surprise.

“Whoa, what’s up, Char?”

She scoffs at me, splinting her gaze as she smacks a wad of papers against my chest. The sunset behind me helps me read it under the dark porch. I about flip my shit when I see it.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“What the hell does that mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest, the buttons of her blue dress straining hard, and I gather my thoughts again as I look at her eyes instead.

“It means I didn’t send you this. I told you I wouldn’t… but I know who did.”

“And I am supposed to believe you?”

“Yes. I could remind you I’ve been extremely forgiving, too.”

“God, you’re infuriating.” She rubs her eyes and steps away from me, halfway across the porch.

I chuckle once. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t do this to you, Char. Not after I told you I wouldn’t. Donnie must have done it,” I add to myself, thinking in the back of my mind I have a shit-ton to question him about.

“Who the hell is Donnie?”

“My agent.” I cross the space until we’re close enough I can inhale her scent when I breathe in and revel in it.

“Why would he do that?”

“Apparently, to look out for me. I’m sorry. How long have you been sitting on this?” I ask her.

She sighs, a bit of the tension leaving her neck and shoulders. “A few hours.”

“You should have called. How many ways did you think of killing me?”

She laughs once. “A few. I guess.”

I set the papers down on the wicker chair and don’t hesitate from sliding my arms around her waist, and she doesn’t pull away from me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being attacked. I had nothing to do with this.” I lean closer to her noticing how her chin juts toward me, and her eyes fleet to my lips.

“I somehow believe you.”

I chuckle. “Good. I’m still hungry. It would suck if I came all this way, and you weren’t still buying dinner.”

She giggles. “When did I agree to that?” Her eyes dart back to mine. I lick my lips and smile down at her—short and tiny. I have an undeniable urge to bury her against me, and so I do.

“You will.”

I kiss her as she moves to speak, so her lips are parted to me, and my tongue slides against her easily. She tastes of mint and something sugary. I have no doubt she’s been drinking sweet tea all day—her favorite drink from what I remember and what still seems to be. Her body relaxes against mine, and I deepen the kiss, tightening my hold on her, diving into her further. It feels the same to kiss her, to hold her. I need to know what is still between us now.

So, I break the kiss only to keep from going too far.

“I’ll… have to go get Kimberly.” Charlotte pulls away. I release her and follow her inside.

“Okay.”

I wait for them in the foyer. After a few minutes, Charlotte comes back mostly the same except with sparkly flats and her hair down, and Kimberly mostly the same, well, the same from her hair down to her sparkly shoes, too.

“I feel like I should take a picture.” I laugh.

“You again?” Kimberly walks right up to me. I smile down at her and fist bump her up then down.

“Me again. That okay?”

She cackles. “Yeah, sure.”

I laugh, smiling at Charlotte behind her, putting her coat on for her and then her own.

“Let’s go.”

Charlotte transfers the car seat to my truck, so I can drive them instructing me to go to their usual place as they do every Saturday. Kimberly again entertains us both with a story, this time from what she did all day with her aunt. I don’t mind her stories. She gets really animated, steadier in her words than I would expect from someone her age. And her sense of humor, it must be all me because Charlotte has always been too serious.

We get to the restaurant, a very family-oriented place which washes a bit of remorse over me when I realize they always came alone, the two of them. They have a usual table and everything, close to the games where Kimberly goes off to play, and we can both see her.

“She has a lot of energy,” I say. Kimberly sits across the table in the booth, sipping at her cosmopolitan and smirking at me.

“Yeah, she does. I try to wake her up early to remedy it, but it’s no use. That’s how kids are.”

“Hmm. I guess I have a lot to learn.” I drink my water wishing it was alcohol to calm my nerves. It’s been a long-ass day, too many emotions swarming around.

“And will this Donnie person let you do that?”

I laugh, joking. “We’ll see.”

A few burgers and mac and cheese later, and Charlotte kindly prying Kimberly off the games, we’re back in the car and headed to Charlotte’s. The surreal feeling has drifted away, but I try to tell myself I am allowed to get used to this—but not quite calling it family yet. I never really had a real one, and I wish I truly knew what it should be like. Obviously, this isn’t the regular way.

I almost drive as slow as possible reaching their driveway and opening their doors for them to get out. My eyes train on Charlotte as I walk them up to the door.

“Say ‘thank you,’ honey.” Charlotte leans down as she takes Kimberly’s jacket when we get inside.

Kimberly laughs to herself. We both look at her a little funny, and she turns craning her neck up to look at me.

“Okay,” she says to her mom. “Thanks for dinner.”

I crouch down to be eye level with her. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.” I grin. She nods at me and makes an exaggerated motion like she has to tell me something. I glance at Charlotte who smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

“What’s up, kid?”

Her small hand goes beside my ear, and I smile to myself until she starts talking. I was expecting a joke or something or another one of her snarky little comments, I don’t know.

“I know you’re my dad.” She pulls back to look at me, her little smile gone, but her eyes wide and bright as ever. For the first time, I notice they are a true hazel, the same brown as they are blue like mine, mixed together. I look over at Charlotte, who didn’t hear what she said, but I’m sure the shocked look on my face might have clued her in.

“I’m not mad at you. We can be friends.”

“Good.” I swallow the lump of shock in my throat. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, now that we’ve met.” I smile, and she grins back, her eyes twinkling. I stand and let out a heavy breath. Charlotte has questions in her eyes when she looks at me.

“Wait here. I’m going to put her to bed,” Charlotte says and takes Kimberly with her who waves over her shoulder at me. I wave back about ready to put myself to bed right on this floor. My emotions hitting me worse than a sack on the field. I didn’t expect that at all.

But it does break the complication of trying to tell her myself. I wonder how she found out—maybe Charlotte told her, but I doubt that. When Charlotte returns, it’s the first thing I ask her.

“I still have some pictures. I left them out when I was getting the albums.”

“What kind of pictures? From when?”

She sighs, leading me into the living room to sit.

“College. The playoff parade and those from the photo booth. I don’t know if you remember…”

“I do remember. The campus fair…” I smile at the memory. I cut in the line that would have taken an hour, so we could get to the photo booth quicker.

“Those are the ones she saw. Plus, she’s very intuitive, probably why she got into a school for gifted children.”

“Oh God, she’s growing up with a bunch of nerds?” I laugh. She gapes at me but laughs too.

“Okay, Lowell.”

I grin and coax her into letting me stay for a little while.

Or until we can stop pretending we don’t still have feelings for each other.