IMPACT: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (3 page)

Chapter 3

Olivia

I pulled down my favorite mug from the shelf. It was navy blue and at one time had announced - in a swoopy gold script - that I liked my coffee the way I liked my men -
hot, full of cream, and able to keep me up for hours.

Now the lettering had rubbed off and there was a chip along the rim just aching to cut my lip open when I wasn't paying attention.

But it held half a pot in one go, so it remained my favorite.

I dumped a bunch of cinnamon roll creamer into the mix, grabbed my Kindle and headed towards the couch. I had a big day of doing nothing ahead of me and I didn't want to waste a single moment.

I walked into my living room and straight into a toxic cloud of stench. "Romeo!" I screeched, waving my hand in front of my nose and nearly spilling coffee down my front.

My pit bull didn't even look up from his nap. His tail thumped twice against the floor to show that he heard me say his name, and then he went right back to snoring like a chainsaw.

"Stop farting, you stupid mutt! It smells like a slaughterhouse in here," I complained, nudging his flank with my toe. He snuffled a little and the snores mercifully decreased in volume.

That's when I heard my door buzzer go off.

"Oh, shit!" I said out loud. "Romeo! You were supposed to remind me it was my turn this month!"

My dog finally deigned to look at me. He cocked his head, like this was all very confusing.

"Oh, whatever. Just because I'm the human doesn't mean I have to be in charge all of the time, does it?"

"Uff," barked Romeo, and I swear he sounded sarcastic.

The buzzer sounded again. I looked down at my yoga pants with the hole in the ass, and then out at my dust and dog hair covered living room.

"Well fuck it," I declared, "I am who I am."

Then I went to the door and opened to greet my irritated looking mother.

"Hey Mom," I sighed.

She stood in the hallway and crossed her arms. "You forgot, didn't you?" she accused.

Whoops.

My mother was the one who had come up with this idea. "I moved back to Chicago so we could see each other!" she had huffed to me one Saturday morning, months ago.

"I know," I had squeaked. I was a touch distracted at the time, trying to pretend that I was having a proper, sit-down conversation with my mother - when I was actually lying naked in my bed while Bradley Scott was in the process of nibbling his way up my naked thigh. I was ready to say anything to get her off the phone before he reached my pussy.

"Well, then let's make a point to see each other," she went on, ever practical. "Once a month. That's all I ask. Brunch and a chat, is that so hard? We can even alternate locations. Your place, then mine."

"Sure Mom. Sounds great!" I had to get off the phone pretty quickly once he started sucking on my clit.

So monthly Mom-brunches became a regular thing. And actually, it was pretty nice spending time with her. My mom was young, only just entering her mid-forties, and she'd long ago given up on being embarrassed by her only child. In fact, I think she regarded me as a cheap form of entertainment. Better than cable.

And I found I enjoyed one-on-one time with her. Growing up - and right into my adulthood - she had been distracted by the series of unreliable boyfriends that paraded in and out of our house like it had a revolving door.

She'd moved to Tucson with the last one, but when that relationship went down the toilet, she seemed honestly relieved to move back to Chicago - both to escape him and the heat - and be part of my life again.

My father, the serial monogamist that he was, had long since moved away, leaving me only my last name and my ability to spend hours in the sun without getting burned as his legacy. She and I were both fine with that. Neither of us needed him in any real sense. Neither of us needed men at all.

We'd spent the last three visits in my mother's brand new, and scrupulously clean, condo overlooking Lakeshore Drive. And I was getting quite used to that arrangement. I had totally forgotten that today was my turn to play hostess.

What could I say? Lying to my mother was completely useless. She knew all of my tricks because she was the one that taught them to me.

"Yup. I completely forgot, Mom. Sorry. But come on in anyway." I stepped aside and welcomed her into my filthy apartment with a grand sweep of my arm.

My mother shot me an irritated look, which dissolved the second Romeo came bounding up to greet her. "Oh my goodness, there's my grand-dog! Who's a good boy? You're a good boy, yes you are!"

"Coffee? I can start another pot," I offered.

"Is that even a question?" My mother backed herself into the living room, still bent over and cooing at Romeo. He executed a series of half-jumps, knowing he wasn't allowed to knock her over but too happy not to try.

"Sorry. Of course you want a cup. I'm not fully awake yet. I know better," I yawned. My mother drank black coffee the whole day long and never seemed to get jittery. I think her entire personality was based on a steady stream of caffeine because the woman was tireless. I brewed another pot on autopilot and poured out a fresh cup into my one, unchipped mug. It was, ironically enough, one she had given me herself.

My mother nearly lunged off the couch to take it from me. "Thank you, honey," she said, and we both took a sip at the same time. It was moments like these, watching the way that her long fingers nested around the mug, that I saw just how alike we were. Of course there were the obvious similarities, with our long, nearly-black hair and mossy green eyes. But it was also in the way we sat, flinging our bodies into the couch like it had caught us mid-collapse. The unabashed and unembarrassed way we slurped our coffee. The slight little moan my mother let out once the caffeine hit her bloodstream. "Ah, that's good," she breathed. "You brought out the good stuff."

"I only drink the good stuff."

"I thought you were showing off, bringing me the nice stuff you save for guests."

"Mom, besides you and Candace, I don't have guests and Candace swore off caffeine until the baby comes. Thinks it'll give her kid a second head or something."

My mother cocked her head at me. "Oh come on now. You expect me to believe, that in the past week, you haven't had any guests besides me?"

I heaved a sigh. She had me there. "He didn't drink coffee, though," I explained.

"Didn't?" My mother caught the past tense.

"Didn't," I repeated, firmly.

"Ah, So you dumped him because he was clearly a crazy person?"

I loved the shit out of my mother. We could talk about literally everything. There were no secrets between us, even if sometimes I wished I had a normal mother. One who wasn't quite so curious about my sex life. One who was a little more easily shocked and didn't press me for details about penis-size. "No, I didn't dump him over coffee, Mom," I sighed. "I'm shallow, but not that shallow."

"Hey, you know I don't judge," she said, leaning back and tucking her feet underneath her. "I'm just living vicariously through my daughter. As for me, I'm thinking of giving up men altogether."

I snorted. "Bullshit."

"No, it's true. I've been out there in the dating world... God, how long now?"

"Dad left when I was seven."

"Shit, really?" My mother looked appalled. "Has it really been..." she counted on her fingers, "seventeen years?"

"Almost eighteen."

"Jesus," my mother wrinkled her nose, and then brightened, "Hey, I heard from him, did I tell you?"

I put down my mug to keep from spilling it across my lap. "No. You did not. What the hell did he want?"

"Oh, he was just letting me know about number five."

"Five!" I blurted. "He found someone else willing to marry him?"

My mother nodded. "Some young thing down in Texas. Probably close to your age, though I didn't really pry for too many mathematical details. He left Ginny with three kids because he knocked up this new one. Sasha's her name, I guess. I kind of feel bad for her."

I counted on my fingers. "So I'm up to...how many half brothers and sisters now?"

My mother quickly ticked off on her fingers. "Mike and Fifi, they were from the first marriage..."

"Yeah, I've met them. They're no fun whatsoever. I can't believe we're even related, no matter how distantly."

My mom grinned. "Then it was my turn to fall under Giles Bryant's spell. Luckily he gave me you. The best trade-off I ever made."

"Aw shucks, Ma."

My mom laughed. "Then came that woman in Ohio, Bitchface, I never did bother to learn her name. He stayed with her the longest and she ended up with four...maybe five brats? I don't even know."

"So that's six or seven," I counted.

My mom nodded. "Then Ginny waggled her ass in his direction at the conference in Houston and that was the end of Bitchface. Ginny actually turned out to be pretty sweet, you know. We exchanged Christmas cards last year."

"And she had three kids. So nine. Or maybe ten. With a baby on the way." I clapped my hand to my forehead. "Jesus Christ, Dad," I complained. "My family tree looks like something out of Game of Thrones, I'm going to end up fucking my half-brother someday and not even know it."

My mother laughed, spilling a droplet of coffee in her lap. "Hey now, at least Giles has the good sense to spread out his whoring all over this great country of ours. You're unlikely to be a brotherfucker unless you move out of state."

"Ew, mom. Too much."

"Sorry, I found the line and went right over it, didn't I?"

"Like mother, like daughter," I agreed. "Anyway, why the fuck were we talking about Dad in the first place?"

"Because I'm done with men," my mother repeated. "Really and truly. You know, lots of women my age discover they're actually late in life lesbians."

I raised an eyebrow. "Mom."

"Well, it's at least worth a shot."

"Knock yourself out," I grumped. "Just don't be disappointed when women are just as unreliable. Everyone sucks." I poked my dog in the ribs. "Except you, Romeo."

My mother peered at me from over the rim of her mug. "Well, aren't you a happy little ray of sunshine this morning. Are you sure you're the one who did the dumping? Do I need to go slap some sense into Mr. No-Coffee?"

I felt a strange sense of protectiveness about Brad. "No, no slapping necessary. It's just...weird."

My mother leaned back. "Tell me."

I sighed. "I don't even know. We were just having sex. Really great sex, mind you," my mother raised her coffee mug in salute, "but that's all it was. And the timing was all wrong so last Sunday we mutually agreed to be done."

"Timing? Is the timing really ever good for anything in life?"

I laughed. "True. But this was legit. He's a hockey player and the season is starting."

"A Blackhawk? Very nice! I'd give you a high five for good taste but that would mean I'd have to get up." She nestled more deeply into the couch instead.

"I accept the mental high five then." I sipped my coffee, found that it was now gone and frowned. "I'll be fine. He'll be fine." I poked Romeo with my toe again. "He's like, this big dumb Lab. Or a Golden Retriever."

"You're comparing the man you slept with to a dog?"

"Men and dogs are exactly the same. All you have to do is feed them, pet them and give them treats and they love you forever. Brad loved my treats, that's it."

"Brad? You mean Bradley Scott?"

"Oh please don't tell me you know who he is."

"I know the entire roster this year." I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What?! They were in the Cup finals last year, I got interested." She tapped her long fingers against her mug. "Bradley Scott's a wildcard. I was watching the preseason interviews with Coach Randall and he was saying there's going to be some shuffling of positions this year."

"Really?" Brad hadn't mentioned a word about that prospect. Come to think of it, he had barely mentioned his job at all.

My mom nodded. "It's a rebuilding year with Ian Carter's injury and all."

"Of course." I had been there when Ian got hurt. It was awful. But up until now, I really hadn't made the connection between what I had witnessed and the effect it'd have on the team.

"So Mr. No-Coffee probably had a lot on his mind, huh?"

"I... don't really know." I squirmed a little, suddenly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. This was the first time I had ever really thought of him existing in any context outside of my bedroom. I'd broken things off with him because of the upcoming hockey season... without really knowing anything
about
the upcoming hockey season. "Why is he a wildcard?"

"Well," my mother said, smoothing her hands down her too-warm-for-this-weather twill pants. "Scott's one of the team veterans, but he's never really been put through his paces. There's talk of a new team captain this year...."