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Chapter Three

David

Staring at the glowing faces of the newlyweds, a mountain of emotions overcome me. I’ve never been happier for the two of them, and yet at the same time, it causes the ache left behind by Fiona to deepen.

In moments like these it doesn’t help that Ava is the spitting image of her twin sister, except for her hair color. But I see that everyday in Scarlett.

“You look awful,” Duncan’s eyes twinkle. Please, no, not the happy version of him. I can’t handle that today. I need his grumpiness so I don’t feel like a complete grouch. “Are you getting any sleep?”

“David?” Ava’s face fills up the entire screen, eyes squinted. “Why does your house look like a tornado hit it?”

I groan before turning to look around my house, which is officially a declared disaster zone.

“Because a forty-five-pound tornado and her eighty-five-pound sidekick have officially moved in.” I rake my hand through my hair, shoulders slumped.

Snickers come from the phone, and I scowl back at the images on screen, which results in cackles from both of them.

“He looks like you, honey.” Ava cups Duncan’s cheek, and he turns to press a kiss on her palm while she gazes at him adoringly.

I roll my eyes. I’m not in the mood for this lovey-dovey stuff. My life is turned upside down, and I blame it all on them. “You know the only reason the two of you are married is because I told Scarlett she could get a dog if we let you have some privacy.”

“Hmmm,” Duncan’s eyes dance, annoying me further. “Are you sure it’s not because I asked her?”

My best friend, and now two-time sister-in-law, is the famous movie star Ava Norris. She came to visit, or more accurately hide out, in Maple Ridge when her ex-fiance, Nathan Vaughn, didn’t handle the ending of their engagement well.

How my brother and her ended up together is a whole other story. Right now I’m just grateful she’s still in town. Because I need help.

“Minor detail,” I grumble. A blur of motion moves past me, followed by my daughter’s giggles. “No, Emmy! Not my cleat. Scarlett, please grab my cleat from her!” When she opens her mouth to say something, I cut her off. “And don’t tell me she likes it!”

Muffled laughter comes from the phone, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please tell me one of you is able to help me today?” I roughly scrub my face.

“I’m available,” Ava pushes out through chuckles. “I’ll be around the entire week, but you’re on your own next week. I have an audition in LA.”

“Thank you.” I breathe out a sigh of relief. “You’re saving me! Can you be here in five minutes to take Scarlett to school?”

“You need my help now?” Under any other circumstance, I’d laugh at Ava’s shocked expression, but I’m running way behind schedule.

“Scarlett, did you brush your teeth?” I shout at my distracted daughter. When I turn back to the screen, it’s to find Duncan’s grinning face, and I panic.

“Relax. Ava just left and will be at your house in a few minutes.” I open my mouth to ask about his schedule but he cuts me off before any words come out. “Gotta head to practice. I’ll check in later.”

Left with my mouth hanging open, the call ends. “Scarrrlett!” I yell, needing to make sure she’s focused on getting ready for school and not Emmy.

“Yes, Daddy?” She shouts from right behind me, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Why are you yelling?” I shout back. Her eyes glitter mischievously, and in spite of my mood, I feel my cheeks tug up.

“I thought that’s what we were doing now.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and mentally count to ten. “Are you done getting ready for school?” I ask, walking toward the kitchen. “Have your lunch and everything else you need?”

“Yup.” She skips next to me, her four-legged shadow close behind. When I open the refrigerator, I notice Emmy sitting, watching me intently. Closing the door, I hear my daughter sigh heavily.

“What?” I snip, placing the leftovers I grabbed for my lunch on the counter. My daughter was fed, the dog was fed, and I think I ate, though honestly, the last hour has been one big chaotic blur of activity.

“You need to give her a treat when she’s sitting nicely.” My patience is all but gone, and I roll my eyes only to be served up with my daughter’s chastising scowl. How am I going to live through her teenage years if I can’t survive the single digits?

Turning back to the leftovers, I grab a container from the cabinet and start transferring the remaining food. A tapping sound comes from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to find my beautiful child with arms crossed and tapping a foot at me.

This time, a smile breaks free.

“Fine,” I huff out a sigh, and hand over a carrot to the greyhound, who seems to have a bottomless pit for a stomach. “Here, Little Miss.”

“That was great, Daddy!” Scarlett chirps excitedly. “See how easy that was? Good girl, Emmy.”

My mouth drops, and I stare at her while my dog swallows the carrot without chewing. Scrubbing my forehead, I try not to groan.

How am I going to get through today? Or more accurately, the rest of my life?

“I’m here!” Ava’s voice rings through the house, and the pressure in my shoulders loosens. That is, until the deep noise of Emmy’s bark slams through my body.

“Aunt Ava!” Scarlett runs to the front door. Following, I stop and lean against the kitchen door frame as my daughter flies into her aunt’s arms. The dog looks like she wants to be held by Ava, too. “Isn’t she pretty?”

Ava’s eyes dart to Emmy. “Very.” A wide grin crosses her face as she turns and takes in my appearance. “You look worse in person. You may want to look in the mirror before leaving the house.”

Growling, I wave over my shoulder and walk out of the room.

“You’re welcome,” Ava calls out, and I mumble something unintelligible. I don’t have the energy to show how grateful I am that she’s here, I have to get ready for work.

Scarlett’s happy voice gets quieter as they head to the car. I don’t hear any barking, so Ava must’ve taken Emmy with them for the ride.

Taking my first deep breath since walking through my door yesterday, some of the tension falls away.

When I make it to the bathroom, I lean my hands on the counter and catch a glimpse of my reflection. My hair is standing up, my eyes are red-rimmed, and I think I have egg on my shirt.

The last time I looked this disheveled was shortly after Fiona died. How am I going to make this work?

Scarlett is happy. Fiona would be happy. But I’m in over my head.

An hour later, I’m pulling into the stadium parking lot like a bat out of hell.

The lot is nearly empty, save for a few players’ cars, making finding a spot close to the building easy.

I have ten minutes before I’m late for the Smokie’s team meeting.

I sent Coach a text this morning explaining my newest situation and said I’d do my best to be on time.

Luckily, he took mercy on me. But I need to get my act together.

Six months ago, the team marketing department decided that selecting some players to have their own individual social media accounts would help engage more with our fans.

The one thing I hate most in the world is social media. As the only single dad on the team, I drew the short straw, so to speak, and was one of the four players chosen.

Normally, people struggle with followers. I have that in spades—especially after Duncan and Ava got together. The struggle for me is consistent content.

I get that it’s part of my contract and that it is good to help increase fan interaction. More fans in the stands is always the goal. But like I told my agent, Finn Mitchell, it’s tough when you have an eight-year-old daughter.

One of Finn’s suggestions was to hire someone to help me. I considered it, but I’m not comfortable having someone taking pictures of me and Scarlett all the time.

Grabbing my duffel from the backseat, I lock the car and start jogging to the clubhouse entrance, my footsteps echoing through the wide walkway.

Maybe I can talk to someone and see what other options I have. I want to help the team with this, but honestly, I’m better on the field. I grip my neck and huff out a breath when I slam into something.

“Oh, I’m—” A female voice says at the same time I start to apologize, “I’m so—”

When I glance down, surprised blue eyes gaze up at me. “Cat?” A slow grin creeps along my face at this unexpected encounter. “What are you doing here?”

“David,” she says, slightly breathless. “I didn’t expect to run into you again so soon. Or so literally.”

“Are you here to use your dog wrangling skills on baseball players?” My stomach tightens at the words that just flew out of my mouth.

A reminder that Scarlett gets her lack of filter from her father.

Cat’s eyes widen before she covers a laugh behind a cough.

I clear my throat, heat crawling up my neck.

“Ummm…what I meant to say is, do you need help?”

“Ahhh. Yes. That definitely makes more sense.” She chuckles, eyes dancing. “Your timing is impeccable. I do need help. Your coordination, however, is questionable.”

“Sorry. It’s been a crazy morning.”

“James!” Logan Miles, the team catcher, slaps the door frame.

I turn to find him checking Cat out, and my hand balls into a fist. He gives her one of his signature smiles that gets all the ladies swooning.

Heck, who am I kidding? That boy could give romcom movie star Sean O’Connell a run for his money.

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Get your butt in here, Coach is ready to start.”

“I’ll be there in a second.” He beams once more at Cat before he heads through the locker room door.

Cat is looking around the clubhouse tunnels like she’s trying to find a sign that might tell her where she is.

“Why don’t you tell me where you need to go, and I can point you in the right direction. ”

“I need to find the marketing department in the front office,” she says, chewing her lip as she looks at her watch.

“Oh. Sure. That’s easy. Do you see the elevator?” I ask, pointing down the hall. She’s looking toward the end of the tunnel, past where it is. Without thinking, I move closer and put my hand over her shoulder to give her a direct path to the location of the elevator. “There. On your right.”

A sweet floral scent overwhelms my senses, and my gut tightens.

“Yes. Thank—” She turns toward me but stops when our faces are inches apart. I hear her breath catch, and my pulse races.

“Just take that to the fourth floor and it will bring you to the front office.” Her eyes are wide and her lips are slightly parted.

Taking a step closer to the locker room door, I put some space between us.

Confusion tears through me at the feelings she’s reawakening.

“Once there, you’ll find the reception desk.

They’ll point you in the right direction. ”

“Perfect.” She smiles, making my knees weaken. “Thank you.”

The clicking of her shoes echoes through the tunnels as I watch her walk away. When she glances over her shoulder, I feel like I’m in middle school again, caught staring.

“Try not to run into anyone else today, okay?”

A slow grin creeps up my face, and I salute her. “I’ll do my best, but no guarantees. See you around, Cat Bailey.”

Without looking back, I head into the locker room, even more perplexed than when I first got to the stadium.