Page 3

3

Maya

T he idea of picking up and moving Finley to Greensboro rattles around in my head like a loose puck on the ice.

It’s been days since Preston brought it up so casually, as if he was only asking me to switch up my laundry detergent or try out a new coffee flavor. But this isn’t a simple decision. It would be a huge change. And it sure as hell doesn’t feel casual.

Just seeing the cardboard boxes around the house when Preston was packing gave me an anxiety attack. He moved out the day after he told me he had officially signed with the Bobcats, as if he was in a hurry to get to Elle.

Not that I blame him.

Still, his absence has put me in a foul mood. At this rate, I’ll become as cranky as my loner brother was before Elle came into his life.

Preston’s dating life was almost as non-existent as mine before he met the love of his life in a ploy to make her ex, Christian, jealous.

It’s crazy how things work out sometimes.

I know I should be happy for them, but the house, Preston’s house, is too quiet, too empty without his large presence in it.

There’s also this doubt that keeps creeping up on me. Doubt that I may not be able to make it on my own without Preston’s support.

Finley misses him just as much as I do. He’s been moping around the house, refusing to go outside and play field hockey, his favorite summer activity, with his friends. Instead, he’s just been sitting in his room stacking his Legos alone.

When I tried to play with him yesterday, he told me I wasn’t building the bridge the right way, the way Uncle Preston built them, which is why they kept falling.

Seeing the sadness on my son’s face, the first of its kind, is nearly enough to make me throw in the towel and start the daunting task of packing.

The thought of uprooting my life yet again, leaving behind everything we’ve built here in D.C. — just to follow my brother like a needy puppy dog seems insane. Well, to be near my brother and Christian.

My stomach knots just thinking about that handsome blond playboy.

The hockey star is a walking temptation, all rugged jawline, sharp hazel eyes, and a body sculpted from years on racing up and down the ice. The kind of body that makes girls swoon at his games, especially all the rabid puck bunnies.

Despite the short duration of our relationship years ago before I got pregnant, I still feel sick thinking about Christian with anyone else.

And if he’s part of Finley’s life on a regular basis, I’ll have no choice but to endure the endless revolving door of the beautiful women coming and going.

I’ve tried to tell myself that I don’t want my son to have that kind of role model in his life, and god forbid, look up to a guy who carelessly sleeps with women and tosses them away.

Really, though, I’m…jealous of those women, even though Christian was only mine for a few weeks. Not long enough to even refer to him as mine since we barely dated after Preston urged me to say yes to going out with his best friend.

During the championship playoffs, more than one girl held up a sign asking Christian to marry her while others think he’s a hockey god. I’ve seen clips of games where some girls even threw their bras and panties onto the ice!

Girls can be idiots sometimes. How do they not see the man for what he is—a carefree playboy who will sleep with them and rush to leave them seconds later?

I hate that I was once an idiot for Christian Riley, and somehow, I can’t break free of his presence in my life, no matter how much I wish I could.

Now, thanks to my brother telling Christian he’s Finley’s father, I have no choice but to deal with him and all his…yumminess.

My cell phone rings, thankfully interrupting my idiotic sexy thoughts about the man I can’t have as I recline on the sofa in the eerily silent house.

I don’t recognize the number, but since it’s a Greensboro area code, it could be Elle calling from her salon, so I decide to answer it. “Hello?”

There’s nothing but silence.

“Helloooo?” I drawl. “Is anyone there?”

“Hey.”

One word and my heart freezes solid mid-beat.

“It’s Christian,” he says, even though it’s unnecessary. “Christian Riley,” he adds, as if there is more than one Christian in my life. “Maya? Preston gave me your number.”

“Oh.” I cringe and facepalm myself for the brain-dead response. Then it occurs to me that he’s in the same city as my brother now, playing on the same brutal hockey team, which could be why he’s calling. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine here,” Christian says in a rush. “I was calling to see if I can come up to visit.”

“Come up to visit?” I repeat slowly.

“I talked to Preston earlier today.”

“Oh?” Again, I sound like a certified genius.

“And he said I should tell you that I’m not going to, like, try to take Finley from you or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” I huff as my lungs decide to join in with my stopped heart.

“Yeah, I would never go to court and fight over custody of Finley or anything like that. I just want to see him as much as you’ll let me.”

“Okay. You want to come here for a visit? Here as in Bethesda, Maryland?” I ask, repeating his earlier question.

“Bethesda is near D.C., where your house is, right? I’ve been there once before...”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then I’ll drive up today or tomorrow if that’s okay?”

“T-today or tomorrow? That’s…really soon.”

“Yeah, well, I only have a few weeks before training starts back up.”

Rubbing my forehead, I try to process this unexpected conversation. “Right. Okay. I guess…I guess you could come visit tomorrow if you really want to drive all the way up here…”

“I do.”

“As just a friend, right?” I ask for clarification.

“For now, but I hope we can talk more about that while I’m in town.”

Part of me wants to shut down even the idea of telling Finley that Christian is his father, even though I know that’s not fair to my son.

And the surprise visit will also be good for Finley, hopefully lifting his spirits since Preston’s been gone.

“Okay,” I agree and pray I don’t regret it.

“Great, so should I, like, call you again tomorrow, you know, before I show up?”

“A call or text a few minutes before would be appreciated,” I tell him since I’m already up and in panic cleaning mode, as if he’s right outside the door.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, Maya,” Christian says before ending the call. Well, I think he stays on the line for a few silent moments, as if he wants to say more, before ending it.

I start to go tell Finley to clean his room for a visitor tomorrow, but I stop myself. Part of me wonders if Christian will actually show up here or not, despite the assurance in his voice.

It’s going to take some time before I’m able to trust a word the man says.

Ugh, I wish there was a way to prevent my little boy from getting caught up in all of this…drama. But Finley remains the bond between me and Christian, one I can’t ever shake, no matter how much I may want to.

Since I’m a little pissed at my brother for giving Christian my number and not telling me, I decide to call him to let out some frustration.

“Hey, sis. I bet I know why you’re calling,” Preston says when he answers. Chuckling, he adds, “Christian doesn’t waste any time, does he?”

“Why didn’t you ask me first, or at least send me a text to warn me that he would be calling about setting up a visit?”

“I was going to call you when I got to Elle’s,” my brother says. “I should’ve called or texted when I got to my SUV, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes, you should have!”

“Look, Maya, I’m sorry you were blindsided by the call, but trust me on this. Christian sincerely wants to spend time with Finley,” Preston says.

“Trust you?” I scoff. “Trust you like when you said I should go out with him? ‘ Give him a chance, Maya. I think he’s already half in love with you .’ Remember that time I trusted you?” It’s a low blow to throw that in Preston’s face, but I’m pissed at him for leaving and for continuing to make life-changing decisions behind my back. “Like he would rather spend time with a four-year-old instead of the hordes of beautiful women who throw themselves at him…” I feel my face warm with annoyance.

Preston’s side of the phone is silent for a long moment. “You sound a little jealous there.”

“Jealous? Please.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “I’m not jealous. I’m realistic. A walking billboard for fornication is going to be my son’s role model. What am I supposed to tell Finley when he asks what a puck bunny is and why his father is drowning in them, Preston?”

“Christian is finally growing up. I wouldn’t dare say that or give your number to him to set up a visit if I wasn’t convinced his heart is in the right place. Or if I thought he would screw up this chance. No matter what you think of the guy, he’s still Finley’s father.”

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and tell my brother, “Trust me , I haven’t forgotten that fact for a single second of my son’s life.”

The older Finley gets, the more he looks like his father instead of me or his Uncle Preston, which is annoying to say the least.

“I just… I don’t know. What if Christian does screw this up? What if he breaks Finley’s heart like he broke mine? I don’t want Finley to go through all that.”

“I don’t either, but I’m not asking you to marry the man. Just give him a chance to spend time with his son. One last chance, for Finley’s sake?”

“If this ends badly, I’m blaming you.”

“Understood,” Preston replies with a chuckle. “Good luck. And how exactly did he break your heart? Why didn’t you ever tell me that you broke things off with him?”

“What?”

“Christian said that you broke his heart.”

I scoff at the ridiculous notion.

“Was he lying? Did Christian break up with you?” Preston asks. “All this time, I thought he ghosted you or cheated on you.”

“Well…okay, so technically I did tell him I didn’t want to see him again, but that was after he acted like a complete jackass!”

“Who’s a jackass?”

I turn around and find my four-year-old blinking up at me with big innocent brown eyes, waiting for me to answer his question.

“Nobody, honey. Someone, um, at the store, was acting like a…like a…”

“Jackass?” he supplies.

“Yes. But I shouldn’t have called him that, should I?”

He shakes his head, looking at me in disapproval for using an insult that would put him in time out and lose his nightly video game privilege.

“Guess who’s on the phone? Here’s Uncle Preston,” I say as I hand over my phone just to change the subject.

My son’s eyes widen and a grin spreads across his face. “ UNCLE PRESTON !” he screams into the device so loudly that my brother probably has some hearing loss.

A moment later they’re talking about a hockey video game, much to my relief.

Whew.

I’m going to have to be more careful in the future. I shouldn’t call my son’s father names, especially not when he can hear me.

So, I vow right then and there that I’m going to try to give Christian Riley the benefit of the doubt going forward.