“I can’t be entirely sure since it’s dark out, but …”
“Doors and windows locked?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. If you hear another peep, call 911.”
“I don’t think it’s thatbig of a?—”
“Your safety is my priority.” My pulse rushes with adrenaline. Some reporters are great, but a guy who shows up predawn is trouble.
I wake the kids, whisper that we’re heading to the bakery for a field trip, and gather their shoes.
Cobbiton isn’t the kind of place to have vagrants or crime, but you can never be too careful.
We’re at the bakery in less than five minutes. Although everything seems secure and there’s no sign of suspicious activity, I make my presence known, then pull my wife into a tight hug, breathing her in, thankful she’s safe.
Kai and Mya are keen on this kind of adventure and are thrilled to be helping Nina in the kitchen. They help her decide on the daily special. I’m on dish duty and see more clearly that her operating this business on her own must get overwhelming at times. If it were me, doing all of this solo, I’d have accidentally served customers liquid soap instead of coffee creamer, ordered cement mix instead of flour, and very likely driven the place into the ground.
Donning a fitted apron, Nina leans over the counter, showing Kai how to evenly roll out pastry dough while Mya measures ingredients with a scale. In the dim morning light, my wife’s silhouette is soft, beautiful. And I have a deeper appreciation for who this woman is—hard working, big-hearted, and did I mention beautiful?
Shortly after I bring the kids to school, my phone rings. It’s Brad.
Without preamble, he says, “Lane, we need to discuss damage control. The narrative that’s building isn’t good for anyone. Vinny has been in touch. He’s concerned.”
“What narrative?”
“That Nina Bruun deliberately targeted you because of your money and status. That she’s been using a child tomanipulate you into marriage while hiding her business’s financial problems. With the pending custody approval, this doesn’t look good.”
“That’s ridiculous. Kai and Mya aren’t even her—” I stop. But that’s not exactly true. She is more of a mother to them than Desi has ever been.
“I’ve also been in communication with your father.”
And there it is. Reading between the lines, he and Vinny are behind this—we share the same agent. My father is trying to drive Nina and me apart.
Brad continues, “The optics are bad, Lane. Injured player, outrageous marriage, sudden appearance of a child, failing business. It looks like a setup.”
“What do we do?” I ask, feeling helpless.
“Cut your losses.”
Does he mean to cut her out of my life? But then I see dollar signs in red—the money she owes for rent. Once again, I worry my father is right. What if all of this is more trouble than it’s worth?
But the thoughts are there and I can’t shake them.
After the call, I drive home in a daze. This is way more than I signed up for when I got hypnotized in Vegas. Two kids, media attention, legal complications, and questions about Nina’s motivations that I hate myself for even considering.
But the doubt exists, planted by my father and watered by lawyers and sports reporters who make money off other people’s drama—people like me, even though I’ve tried to avoid this kind of thing for my entire career. Xoe being an exception and I can’t relive that catastrophe.
That afternoon, after practice, I find Nina in the kitchen at home, helping Kai with homework while Mya looks through an old, illustrated recipe book that belonged to Bibi. Something that smells incredible bakes in the oven. It’s so domestic, soperfect, so unlike what my life looked like mere months ago. It feels so achingly right that for a moment, I forget all my worries.
Then I remember the final notice I glimpsed on Nina’s desk at the bakery, and my misgivings come rushing back. But it’s not only that. If we cut the tether, she’ll be safe from dangerous reporters and can go back to her quiet life. The one I barged into with all my problems.
“Nina, can we talk?”
She looks up from Kai’s math worksheet, and my expression must give me away because her face immediately grows guarded.
“Kids, why don’t you move to the living room while I wait for the timer to ding?” she says.
