Lowell

I have been doing the same training for years, and it’s boring now. The only difference is the team and training for the biggest game of my life. One I never suspected I might be training for and only wished I might be. If the team does make it to the Super Bowl, I’m not sure I could even imagine it. It’s the only thing I used to strive for, but in the past day or so, it’s expanded to include Kimberly. Charlotte, I can’t be sure of because I don’t know if I only miss her or want to be with her again. I still can’t imagine how she kept this to herself all these years, but somehow, I still think of my feelings for her. I get sacked during practice, and I can only think of her lips on mine and not the coach yelling at me.

I barely register Jacob pulling me up until I focus on him laughing.

“You haven’t been sacked since sophomore year.” Jacob laughs through his nose. I frown at him through the bars of my helmet and shake his hand off my shoulder.

“With good reason. I was distracted.” He gives me a look, and I wave him off. “We’ll talk after practice.”

The hour runs by, and we finish practice. A few news channels were here, so I answer a few questions before I head into the locker room to shower and leave. I meet Jacob out by the lockers just finishing a call I assume is with his wife.

“She hates when I leave her home alone, especially when the girls don’t quiet down.” He shrugs, dragging a towel over his short-cut hair, already dressed in sweats and a t-shirt ready to leave.

As I get dressed, I answer him. “Why don’t y’all hand them off to daycare or school?” I ask, knowing they are old enough to be in pre-school at least.

“She insists on home teaching until they start first grade,” he says with a low tone.

“Okay.” I laugh once. He makes a face, and it makes me laugh more. Sandra always wins their arguments. In reality, it most often never even gets to that point because what she says goes most of the time. It’s funny to watch.

Once I get my jeans and gray Henley on, I sit down to lace up my shoes.

“So, what had you all messed up at practice today?”

I sigh. I haven’t told him anything about Charlotte, and I feel a headache coming on from thinking about trying to put it into words. Jacob and I have been friends for a long time, but I still think I have no idea what he might have to say about this.

“I met up with Charlotte after that mixer.”

“Okay… so?” He drops his brow.

“So…” I laugh at how absurd it might sound, completely out of left field, but we should be used to it. “She has a daughter, Kimberly.” I fight the smile at the thought of her, and even though I haven’t interacted with her as much as I might hope to, I still get that Charlotte has for the past five years.

“Whoa. Seriously? I figured she might have been single. I always thought she was really hard to get. Reminds me of Sandra.” He laughs with a snort, and I shake my head at him.

“She is single.” A thin smile is on my face when I watch his grin fall. “It’s… Kimberly is mine.” I exhale. “She got pregnant back in college. She didn’t find out until after I left.”

“So what? She still didn’t tell you? Wait a minute…” He leans forward laughing with no humor as I do until he gathers his thoughts.

“It was a lot of stuff. I don’t know. I talked to her about it last night, and at least she isn’t trying to keep me from her. I keep telling myself that.”

“Shit… you’re a dad? How are you not freaking out? I couldn’t even see straight for days when I found out about Amy,” he gripes. Amy is his oldest daughter. I was there for most of it. He was pretty much at wits’ end about it.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. Or it feels natural somehow being responsible for someone or being a parent even though I haven’t had to do anything yet.”

“Because you never thought it would happen?” He lowers his voice.

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m seeing her again tonight for dinner.” I cut the conversation off before it begins, and Jacob understands.

“Okay. I can’t believe you aren’t mad at her, though. I mean she should have told you.” He stands, and we get ready to leave.

“Yeah, but there’s no point in dwelling on all that. Nothing I can do about it now.”

“I’m shocked.”

“I can be mature sometimes.” I laugh.

“So, you’ll get to have a relationship with your daughter… what about Charlotte?” We’ve reached our cars parked at the back end of the stadium where the press won’t see the players leave.

“What about her?” I scratch at the nape of my neck and avoid his hard gaze.

“The two of you?” He waves his hand.

“I don’t know. We were barely together back then. Not sure what we could be now.”

I pull up to Charlotte’s house somehow not surprised by what I see, even though she texted me her address, I hadn’t registered what neighborhood it would be in.

The beige stucco house sits on a hill apart from the others on the street, nothing really on the outside except a pair of matching sneakers I see when I get to the front door—one super small, and the other small too. I grin because I remember laughing at her shoe size one day back in college, but I forget how we ended up talking about it.

I’m not nervous when I knock, just a little taken aback when I see Charlotte.

“Hey,” I say, looking her over. She’s wearing simple faded jeans and a yellow-striped shirt that accentuates every part of her body, which I remember going crazy over. Her face is bare of makeup and bright under the lights of her house. Her curly hair is up, and the heart-shaped frame of her face is free from her curls falling around it. Even though I kissed her last night, I’m reluctant to do it now.

“Hi. Come in.” She smiles softly, and I return it.

Smells of the dinner she is cooking and the fresh linen scent of the house flood my senses. I take in the bright foyer, the large windows on the second level allowing the bright rays of the sunset to come through. Her furniture all matches, and the light shades blend with the gray flooring. The only thing out of place is an orange backpack on the bottom shelf of the coat rack with no coats on it.

“I wasn’t sure what to bring. Alcohol didn’t seem appropriate.” I turn to face her, awkwardly placing my hands in the pocket of my leather jacket to keep from touching her and distracting myself.

“That’s okay. You look tired.” She laughs once.

“Practice ran long. Where is she?” I lean against the pillar separating the foyer from the living room.

“She has computer time before dinner.” She walks on, and I follow her, not at all watching her ass in her jeans as she does.

“You’re one of those parents with schedules?” I smile.

“I guess I am. Kids need structure.” She shrugs.

I lean over the island as she faces the stove turning both burners off.

“Be honest, is that how your childhood was?” I chuckle. She is silent long enough for me to know the true answer.

“No. I guess not.”

“So, what is it I’m supposed to do? I’m guessing you have a laundry list of rules.”

She stops what she is doing and turns, walking around the counter to be closer to me. I stare down at her while she finds her words.

“Lowell, we can’t tell her this all at once.”

“I know.”

She blinks. “And we have to be smart about it. I don’t want her to feel like—”

“You lied to her?” My eyes sharpen. She looks up at me, into my eyes, and then away to avoid my gaze.

“Sure. I don’t want her to feel like I lied to her, or that she was missing out on something.”

“She’s five. She probably won’t even remember this.” I laugh once.

“That isn’t true.” She nudges me, and her hand lingers on my arm.

It’s her touch that pulls me out of the fog I’ve had since I have walked in, and I pull her in close to me for a hug instead. Her body relaxes on mine, and I don’t want to let her go right away. I tighten my hold and inhale the sweet oil and berry scent of her hair as she lays her head on my chest. Her arms cinch around my back, and I feel her palms under the small of my back. My hug tells her this is okay, that we can do this.

“I’ll do whatever is best for Kimberly. You know what that would be more than I do.” I release her and grin down at her softly. She returns it and nods a bit.

“Okay. Thank you.”

She clears her throat and moves away from me completely, the heat between us disseminates.

“I made meatloaf and chicken tortilla soup. It’s her favorite.”

“That’s an interesting favorite.” I sit on the tall stool looking over to where I can see into the family room, more casually decorated and strewn with what looks like Kimberly’s toys and things.

“She watches food channels a lot. I guess it’s her thing.”

“What other things does she have?” I ask, genuinely intrigued. I wish I knew for myself already, but I don’t. I’m more than willing to play catch-up, though.

“Hmm.” Charlotte shuts everything off including the exhaust fan, and when she does, I can hear something playing off in the distance that sounds like kid tunes from a game or something. “She likes food for sure. We have baking days, which is her favorite thing.” She smiles, and it makes me do the same. “And her favorite color is orange. She won’t eat her fruits and vegetables unless I bribe her.”

“That’s understandable.” I chuckle.

“Yeah. My parents adore her, probably because she is the only grandchild right now. My sister, too. She loves spending time with her.” She sighs like another thought is on her mind. “She’s good for our family. I didn’t see my parents much before, and I don’t think I would have now if it wasn’t for her.”

She looks at me, and I gage her reaction before I ask her, “Do you want more kids?”

“I…” Her eyes widen, and I almost want to clarify I didn’t mean with me. “One day, maybe. I had Kimberly when I was so young, I couldn’t even enjoy a lot of things because I was so scared and… I had Catherine, but I still felt alone sometimes. And I… missed you. Sometimes. Especially when she was born. I wished you could have seen her, and then every day she started to look more like you. I felt torn apart some days.” She quickly wipes a tear before it even surfaces.

“By guilt?”

She rolls her eyes, a shake of her head as she turns away. “Not until now, no. I hadn’t realized I should be guilty. I thought… well, I didn’t let myself think most of the time. I tore myself up.”

I sigh and rub down my face as I clear my throat. “I don’t mean to attack you. It’s still hard for me.”

She nods and comes over to me close enough to touch again, to smell, and for my body to react to her before I know what it’s doing.

“I understand, Lowell. I just… want us to be in this together. For Kimberly,” she adds as if we needed that clarification.

I’m not sure if we do yet.

“Okay. We’ll be a united front from here on out, no sly remarks from me anymore.” I grin, and she giggles once.

“Okay.” She nods at me, and we pass the same dull moment where I refrain from kissing her again, and I know she wants me to.

But we both step apart as fast as we can when we hear Kimberly come running into the kitchen.