Page 28 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Ansel

I ’M SLAMMING THE door and crossing the street before I even register what I’m doing.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, coming to a halt far too close to her.

“Careful, Ansel,” she warns with an arch of a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “You never know who might be watching.”

“Exactly what do you mean by that?” I growl.

She shrinks away from me for the briefest of seconds before straightening to her full height and staring cooly at me.

“I want to see my daughter,” she says, crossing her arms and looking me up and down as if I’m trash.

Nothing is out of place on her. Hair, nails, the whole thing.

Looking at her now, the effort at perfection makes my lip curl.

“ My daughter,” I correct her with a snarl. “She is my daughter. You lost the right to call her anything the moment you left her on my doorstep.”

“She is mine as much as she is yours,” Lauren shoots back.

“Wrong.” I cross my arms. “You need to leave. Leave and never come back. We don’t need you here.”

“And why’s that? Because you’ve got your fancy captain title and you’re making big money with all your sponsorship deals? Because trust me, I’m well aware of them. Oh, wait.” She pretends as if something has just occurred to her. “It’s because you’re fucking the nanny.”

A wave of anger flashes through me and I see red, but I keep my clenched fists at my side. I’d never hit a woman, ever, but Lauren is pushing every button I have. “Say one more word about her,” I seethe, “and you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

Lauren has the sense to take half a step back, but she’s not done. “I have tried to be nice. To do this the right way. But I want to see her.”

“No.”

Her eyes flash. “Do you really think you can just tell me no and have that be the end of it?”

“I do. Because what you’ve been doing—the way you’ve terrorized them—is not okay.”

“ Terrorized ?”

I scoff. “So you weren’t the one who had them followed yesterday? How many other times have you had someone follow my child , Lauren? That’s not something a mother does.”

“I needed information,” she spits back. “And it’s not like you were giving it to me.”

“How many times?” I demand.

Her eyes slide away from mine.

Christ. My stomach roils. “Is it about money?” I ask.

“No!” she protests, but I see the lie on her face.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I really am going to be sick.

Deep, deep down, I had hoped that Lauren would come back around with a real desire to see her daughter.

But whatever this is, it’s not it. Random text messages, hiring who knows what kind of people to follow my daughter, and now showing up here?

If I didn’t have the profile I had, the chances of taking my anger out on her car would be sky high.

I press forward. “You always were an opportunist, Lauren. You’ve clearly seen the news. How the league is getting more attention. How we’re pulling in bigger crowds. The sponsorships that the team has.” I refuse to confirm her suspicions that I’m picking up better sponsorship deals.

She doesn’t say anything.

And it’s her silence that damns her.

But it damns me, too, because I ask, “How much will it cost to make you go away?”

Regret fills her eyes, but I don’t believe it for a second. “I made a mistake. I just want?—”

“Stop.” I look her up and down. “You absolutely made a mistake. Several, in fact. The first was never telling me you got pregnant. The second was dropping her at my front door with nothing but a fucking note , like she’s some shameful secret instead of the most precious being in the world.

And the third? The third was coming back here.

I barely know you, but I know enough to see that nothing about you has changed.

It’s obvious. That sweet girl cramped your style from the second you got pregnant with her, and you clearly regretted it, but me?

She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

” I step closer, not caring how intimidating I might look.

“And I’ll be damned if I let you come around and pretend to want to see her, when all you want is money. Name your price, Lauren. How much?”

She shakes her head, expression cold. “Fuck you, Ansel.”

“Oh, see, but you already did, sweetheart. And look where that got you.” The words are so vicious that I don’t recognize myself right now.

“This isn’t over,” she says, her voice shaking.

“You can expect a restraining order tomorrow.” My words are flat, unfeeling. “I don’t want you anywhere close to her.”

“Try it and see how fast I go to the media,” she says.

I don’t answer, afraid that if another word comes out of my mouth, I’ll end up in jail. And that will definitely be in the news. I don’t want my life any more public than it already is.

She gets back in the car—a sleek black Mercedes two-seater, something that Rosalie couldn’t fit in—and starts the engine.

I step back just in time, moving away as she revs into the street. I snap a picture of the license plate, then stand there, lost in my fury in the middle of the road. It’s only when Sharon’s Mini Cooper turns onto the street that I shake myself out of it and move back to my driveway.

Sharon pulls into her driveway and gets out, setting her mini daschund Dolly onto the ground.

She bolts over to me, undoubtedly looking around for Rosie.

“Sorry,” Sharon says with a smile, her large sunglasses covering most of her face.

“You know how Dolly is. She’s been missing her favorite five-year-old.

” Then she gets a good look at me and frowns. “What’s going on?”

I shake my head, unable to put it into words.

“Is Rosalie okay?” She crosses into my yard, noting the still-running Land Rover. “Your parents?”

I gesture vaguely at the street. “She was just here.”

“Who?” Sharon looks around.

“Rosie’s birth mother.” It comes out as a growl.

Sharon stiffens. She’s a second grandmother to Rosie and has seen us through more than even my own mom thanks to her proximity. “Did Rosie see her?”

I shake my head, my entire body shaking with adrenaline. “I can’t—I need?—”

She immediately understands. “Go,” she says. “I can take care of them. It’ll be a play date for Rosie and Dolly.”

“I can’t go inside.” I’d either burst into tears or I’d punch holes in the walls. Either is possible right now. I can’t let Rosie see me like this. Elodie, either. This is exactly the kind of mess she doesn’t need be involved in.

Sharon nods. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you.” With that, I climb back into my car and reverse out of the driveway.