Page 82

The next few weeks are filled with packing, spoiling my daughter, practicing my playbook with my hot as fuck Victoria memory palace, and going on secret sex dates with Hartley. Before I know it, I’m closing on my new house. I sign the paperwork on a Thursday morning while my girls are at school, and by the time Victoria brings Harper home after school on Friday, the movers have already packed up everything that’s ours from the rental and they’re unpacking over at the new place.

I greet Harper with sour gummies and pretzel rods, and as much as I want to kiss Victoria with this awesome mood I find myself in, I hold back.

I’m still not ready to let Harper in on all this, especially not with our first trial run with Hartley playing nanny next week when OTAs start.

It’s really only six hours a day of meetings, but the meetings can run late, and given our new offensive coordinator, this time is critical. It’s the only time we’ll have with the playbook and coaches ahead of training camp, and camp is way more about asserting your position on the team than on learning plays. I need to know the playbook by then, and we’re closing in on just two months until that time comes. So if I need to stay late to ask questions, I will. If I need to meet with my teammates to go over plays, I will.

I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure I’m ready to prove I deserve a starting role this season when camp starts in late July.

We head over to the new place, Harper in the back of the Mercedes and Victoria promising to drive me back here later to pick up my McLaren.

The movers are already almost done setting furniture and boxes in place when we arrive, and the internet dude came last night. I also ordered a bunch of new furniture to fill the place, and I hung out here this morning to tell the delivery people where to place everything.

Harper is up in her room opening her boxes of stuffed animals, and I head over with Victoria to check out her casita.

“I can’t believe this is where I’m going to be living,” she says, and she does a little twirl in the living room, now decked out with a brand-new couch that looks perfect for sex.

Like right now.

There’s a small kitchen table in her eating area, and I ordered a full set of kitchen shit for her to use, though I get a sneaking suspicion she’ll spend more time in the main house cooking in the gourmet kitchen than in the smaller kitchen in this place.

At least I hope so.

Someday I can see her moving into the main house with us.

I shake it off. It’s too soon. We’re not even fully moved into this situation yet, so I’m clearly getting ahead of myself.

A week later, OTAs begin, and I’ve slept alone in my bed every night.

Harper says it feels like home, and that’s because it is. This is her home as much as it is mine. As much as it is Victoria’s, too, I suppose.

I sit in a classroom and feel pride in knowing that I’ve studied my ass off—or, rather, I’ve studied Victoria’s ass—and I know this playbook.

The OC makes a few adjustments here and there, but I feel confident in the majority of the plays that we’ll run. When I hear Ghost , Victoria’s collarbone comes to mind and I know I need to run a fly route where I run straight up the field toward the end zone.

When I hear Rita , I think of Victoria’s right nipple.

When I hear Carl , I think of Victoria’s calf.

You get the picture.

Every play reminds me of her, and the more time I spend thinking about her even when I’m away from her…the harder I seem to be falling.

I haven’t told her that beyond the whole I’m falling thing. I haven’t used the big word.

I’ve never used the big word.

I’ve never felt the big word.

I have two weeks of OTAs like this—three days a week, Tuesday through Thursday, and the morning after the second week is done, we’re hopping on a plane for the Bahamas. The third week of OTAs is Thursday and Friday, so I have to be back by Wednesday night.

That gives us six days in the Bahamas.

Six days with her family.

I haven’t told Harper yet. I haven’t figured out how to tell her.

And so when I make it home in time for dinner the first night of OTAs, I bring it up right after I ask Harper to pass me the mashed potatoes.

“Victoria’s sister is getting married in a few weeks,” I begin.

Victoria’s brow crinkles as she looks up at me, and I shrug.

“I agreed to go with her. It’s in the Bahamas, and we’ll be there almost a week.”

“Ooooh,” she sings.

I narrow my eyes at her. “What?”

“Is this a date ?” she asks. “Like a week-long date?”

I chuckle as Victoria stiffens. I shake my head. “No. It’s a favor for a friend.”

“Is that all this is?” Harper presses, circling her finger between Victoria and me. “Friends?”

I glance at Victoria, who looks like a deer caught in headlights, and I laugh.

“It’s complicated,” I admit, and then I change the subject. “I talked to Bella’s dad, and we agreed we’d let you decide what you want to do. You can come with us—there will be a nanny there taking care of all the kids, although you’re quite a bit older than most of the kids there—or you can stay with Bella for the week.”

“Bella,” she says immediately.

“Really?” I ask, my brows pinching together at her immediate response.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want to hang out with you two lovebirds plus a bunch of babies and some nanny I don’t even know. The last time I did that, she tried to murder me.”

I chuckle. “I mean, that’s not exactly what happened.”

She twists her lips and shrugs. “I think a week with Bella would be fun.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “You don’t want a week at a water park oasis with your old man?”

She crinkles her nose. “First of all, you didn’t mention a water park, but that makes me even more sure in my choice.”

“Why?” Victoria and I ask at the same time.

“A water park?” She shudders. “When I was six, my mom and dad took me to a water park and I will never go to one ever again.”

“How come?” I ask.

“Some baby pooped in the water and we all had to get out,” she says. “It was so gross. Plus, you know, I’m terrified of water slides, so there’s that too.”

I laugh. “That’s disgusting. But are you sure? I’d be there to hold your hand and I don’t want to be away from you for an entire six days.”

She glances up at me, and when her eyes meet mine, my heart squeezes. “I don’t want to be away from you, either,” she says softly. “Dad.” She looks embarrassed after she says the word, and an unfamiliar heat stings behind my eyes at that word.

I never thought I’d get so emotional hearing a single word come out of a kid’s mouth.

I want to make a big deal out of this. It is a big deal. But I don’t want her to be embarrassed. And I certainly don’t want to handle it in a way that will make her never use the word again.

I reach over and squeeze her hand, and I clear the lump from my throat. “You’ll have a great time with Bella, ladybug.”

She nods and stares down at her plate, and I wish I could just take her into my arms and hold her and make everything okay again. I wish I could hold her tight and make everything okay forever, and I wonder if that’s how every parent feels. I want to give her everything. I want to raise her into a good person. I want to protect her and keep her safe while letting her soar and become whoever it is she’s meant to be.

I came into this dad thing late in the game, but it feels very much like the place I was always meant to be.

I set my fork down, get out of my chair, and walk over to her. I press a soft kiss to the top of her head, whisper, “Thank you,” and walk back to my chair and sit.

Victoria swipes at a tear, and Harper looks up at me, her eyes shining, too. I know she feels guilty for using that name on anyone other than Simon, but I am her dad. He was, too. In every way that mattered, he was. And just because she used that word for me doesn’t take that away from him.

It just means we’re in a new place now, and that’s okay too.