“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I appreciate it just the same,” White says, and the two look at each other and some unspoken moment goes between them.
“I’m gonna go grab some coffee. You guys want anything?” Black asks, and I shake my head no while White orders up a coffee, too. The door closes. I hold my breath, wondering exactly how to talk with White and hating the fact that I’m the one responsible for the distance between us. White’s the first one to pull away and I hold my breath and wait.
“Are you finally believing I’m not the father of that kid?”
“I am. It would be kind of hard to doubt it with the lengths you and Black have gone to.”
“Your sister is a bitch, Buttercup. She’s never coming around us when we get married. You need to make that shit clear. I hate to be an asshole here, but I’m going to demand you cut off all ties with her.”
“Are we still getting married?”
“Fuck yes. I know we got a lot of shit between us and a lot more to talk about, but I’m not letting you go, Kayla. I don’t understand some of your choices, but we’ll work past them,” he says, and he’s right. I rub my damp hands down my pants and take in a shaky breath.
“We’ve known each other a long time, White,” I start. He doesn’t say anything but he does move to the chair Black was sitting in. Me? I let the wall hold me up and do my best to hold onto my rapidly failing courage. This may be one of the most important conversations I’ve ever had and the pressure to make him understand is huge. “I have been in love with you for so long, but I fell in love with the real White Hall Lucas, not the sports persona or the man in the news. I didn’t sugarcoat who you are, or try and pretend you didn’t have faults.”
“Gee, Kayla, stop. You’re going to make me blush.”
“You were a man-whore, a self-sworn bachelor for life, and you made no excuses for that, White.”
“I explained why, too. I was a cynical bastard. I knew I’d never trust a woman. Hell, look at what your sister is doing! I think that proves my point.”
“I get it, but how many times did you tell me over and over that you never wanted kids?”
“Kayla—”
“Even after we got together, White. I felt like you did it to try and save me or something.”
“Well, you were planning crazy shit. Someone had to step up.”
“Exactly. So here was White to the rescue, not because you returned my feelings, but because you cared about me and I was a responsibility.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Was it? I don’t think you realize how many times you let it slip that you were giving me a baby.”
“But…”
“How many times you said ‘I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make sure to give you your baby.’”
“I think you’re being unfair here. I don’t think I said those things, or if I did, at least not word-for-word and only at the very beginning.”
“But those are the words that sunk in. Those are the words that I digested and the ones that made me decide to stay on birth control.”
“So you’re saying it’s my fault you lied to me?”
“No. That’s all on me, but you inadvertently helped.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you let me go to the doctor and give a fucking sperm sample as well as a hundred other things.”
“I should have spoken up sooner.”
“Damn straight you should have.”
“I know, and you may not believe this, but I really did try. I just always chickened out.” White takes a breath and releases it loudly in the room. He rubs his hand over his face and closes his eyes. It’s then that I see the small, scruffy beard he’s growing, the lines under his eyes from lack of sleep, and a hundred other things that I hadn’t taken the time to notice. “You look tired.”
“I don’t sleep good without you in the bed.”
“I don’t either.”
“Tonight, you’re back with me.”
“What about Rachel?”
“I don’t give a fuck. I told you the baby is not mine. You just told me you believed me. We’ll wait it out and prove her wrong when the baby is born. I was only going after this so hard to prove it to you. I didn’t want you to have another reason to put distance between us.”
“I don’t want distance, White. I love you.”
“Then you’re in my bed tonight.”
“I’m in your bed tonight,” I agree, and really giving in is easy because I need it even more than he does at this point.
“Thank fuck for that at least.”
“Is your career really over?” I ask, walking to him. He pulls me down on his lap.
“Yeah. I’ve been facing it for a while now. I just didn’t want to admit it. I got the last doctor report back yesterday. I’m finished, Buttercup,” he says, his fingers tangling in my hair, and he holds me close.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know how important football is to you.”
“I can’t remember you calling me sweetheart before. I like it.”
“I’ll make note,” I laugh, enjoying the feel of being in his arms and having him touch me.