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“No.” I roll my eyes. “Just having his baby.”
Bethany wraps her arm around my shoulder, hugging me to her side. “You’ve come a long way, Cal.”
I set down the panties in my hand, unsure how to take that statement. “Thanks.”
Bethany knows me. Not only is she a good friend and my boss, but when I graduated high school, I lived with her for a year before I could save up to afford my apartment. If anyone knows the real me, it’s her. She probably knows that me doing this has more to do with my stubbornness but still, I like to think she sees the bigger meaning behind it.
Her hand touches to my stomach. “I’m so excited! When are you due?”
“September.”
She sighs, as if she’s absorbing the news, almost like a proud parent.
I lift my eyes to hers. “I have no idea what the future holds for me and Leo, but one thing is for sure, I have this baby, and that’s all that matters right now.”
Bethany leans in, giving me a shoulder bump, her way of showing me she knows I can do this on my own if that’s what’s in the cards for me.
* * *
I leavework around noon because I want to tell my father. I just want to get it over with. We don’t talk much these days, a phone call once a month, a dinner maybe once every three months. I’ve pretty much been on my own for as long as I can remember. He seems almost shocked that I call and ask if he wants to go to lunch on Valentine’s Day. Surely I have a man to be with, not that he would care, but it definitely throws him off.
Ed Pratt is a bull-shouldered man, built strong, with a deep condescending voice, and a man who played hockey his entire life until a knee injury ended his career. He was what I would describe as intimidating. Not much for compassion, but he sees the game for what it is. A battle of passion and heart.
Only, I’m not sure Ed knows a goddamn thing about how to show passion himself.
Am I scared to tell him I’m having a baby?
No.
I don’t care what he’ll say; therefore, I’m not scared. I’m doing this with or without his support. This isn’t something where I expect him to help me. I’ve never once asked the man for money since I was sixteen. And I’m not under the notion that he will be supportive or a nurturing grandfather.
More than likely, he’s going to tell me what a big mistake I’m making.
Still don’t care.
Around one, I meet him at Hub 51. He stands when I approach, much like Leo does. It makes me smile, but only for a minute. My father never makes me smile. If I had to say what my fondest memory of him is growing up, it’s the day he gave me his season tickets to the Chicago Blackhawks when I was fourteen.
And then maybe the day I moved out when I graduated high school.
Greatest day of my life because I no longer felt like Ihadto be around him. I’m sure he did the best he could raising a daughter on his own, but I spent more time with my nanny growing up than I did with my father.
“How have you been?” he asks, like he cares, his eyes on the drink menu.
Ever since he became the GM of the Blackhawks after the Stanley Cup win, he has become even less personable and more of a businessman. Before that, he was a broadcaster for years, announcing the play-by-play for the Blackhawks. Prior to that, he played hockey for twelve years here in Chicago, only to have a career-ending botched knee surgery that left him with a permanent limp.
Some GMs travel to the games; others don’t go on the road because they don’t want to get close to the players and develop relationships. Makes trades easier. Ed is that guy. Never goes on the road and sits high above the rink in the box during the game.
“I’ve been fine.” I’m not going to beat around the bush here. I need to tell him.
“So…” Ed looks up from the menu, brown eyes that mirror mine rise for the briefest moment and then back to the menu. “No date tonight?”
“Nah, not tonight.” I pick up the menu in front of me, staring at the beer list.
Damn it.
Just looking at it depresses me.
The waiter returns, much like the night with Leo, and asks for our drink order. I choose water again, which is when my father knows something is up.