“You know what? You’re right.” I threw my hands into the air, as if throwing in the towel. “You’re her father, and you know what’s bestfor her. I overstepped. Maybe you’re better off finding someone else to look after her since I’m so terrible at my job.”
“I never said—”
“I was going to wash her up and make her some dinner, but I’ll leave you to it. See you in the morning.”
“Octavia, wait,” Javier called as I walked toward the patio doors. “I didn’t mean it that way; I just—”
“No, I think you meant exactly what you said, Javier.” I twisted around to glare at him. “It’s been over half a year, and you still don’t seem happy withanythingthat I do. I’m trying my hardest to make this work—to spread just a teensy bit of excitement around here for her—but you hate it. I don’t want to make this about me, but it’s like no matter what I do or how hard I try, it’s never good enough for you.” I drew in a deep breath, still fighting my tears. “So maybe it’s like you said. I’m just not the right fit for you and Aleesa.”
“Tava?” Aleesa called.
I lowered my gaze. She was pouting, and seeing her that way hurt me even more. I looked away before my bottom lip could tremble. Then I walked out of the house and shuffled across the lawn until I reached the guesthouse. The tears finally blurred my vision as soon as I walked inside.
I adored Aleesa. I loved that little girl so much, to the point I’d have doneanythingfor her. But Javier ... God, he was not making this job easy for me. I’d dealt with my fair share of difficult parents. I understood that most only wanted the best for their children, so I often took their harsh criticisms with a grain of salt.
I’d dealt with sticklers; passive aggressiveness; and sugar-free, gluten-free, dye-free parents. But I’dneverdealt with someone who so clearlyloathedhaving me around. I figured by now he’d have softened up. I couldn’t have been that bad to be around, right?
All his loathing reminded me of one thing. Oneperson, really. My ex.
Fucking Luther Hall. That manipulative, selfish, lying piece of shit.
I had sworn on my life that I would never again put up with a man who didn’t appreciate me, or didn’t accept me for who I was. I would never keel over for someone who didn’t respect me. It didn’t matter how much Javier paid me. I had value, and he wasn’t about to shred it. It was better to move on than sit and take the punches.
Maybe Javier was right, though. Maybe he never should’ve hired me.
If he hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have felt like my mental health was slipping day by day. I had pretended some of his words and actions didn’t bother me all that much, but deep down they did. Why? Because I had a problem with wantingeveryoneto like me, and I couldn’t understand why he hated me.
I had felt like I needed to go over the top to impress him with my cooking, my baking, and even tending to his daughter just to feel accepted by him. Though I hated admitting it, I would go over the top when he was around just to see if I could get a teensy bit of a smile out of him. It never worked. And relying on someone else to make me feel worthy was a terrible habit.
Davina always said this was something I needed to work on.
I cared too much about what other people thought about me. I’d been that way since I was a child. Always wanting approval. Always wanting to be the good girl. Always the one holding back my feelings and emotions just to spare someone else’s. Always putting others before myself.
I had thought, surely, I was making progress with all of that. After years of therapy, I had felt confident enough in myself to give this world another shot.
But if things continued on this track, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could be a nanny for Javier. I had never quit a job ... but this would be the first time in history that I did.
All because of a grumpy single father with a chip on his shoulder.
Six
Javier
Octavia did not speak much the day after Aleesa’s accident. It was the strangest thing, seeing her cooking in the kitchen without talking, breaking out in some random dance, or even trying to get a rise out of me.
She stuck to her work. She knew my schedule and that I had a game to travel for, so she came to the house at six in the morning, sat in the living room while Aleesa continued sleeping, and basically ignored me as I carried my suitcase with me out of the house.
I felt like shit for what I had said to her.
The truth was, I had not liked to see my daughter hurt. No good parent wants to see that, and we always look for someone or something to blame. I did not like to know there were tears in Aleesa’s eyes that were caused by pain.
And the biggest truth? I did not like that I wasnot thereto pick her up in that moment. I thought about that a lot—how Aleesa probably looked for me when she was hurt or scared or lonely. It caused so much guilt to eat at my heart and soul because all I ever wanted was to be there for her.
Maybe it would not have felt this bad if her mother was still in the picture. But now that my wife had passed away and it was just thetwo of us, that meant I was responsible foreverythingregarding Aleesa, including her happiness.
Our game that night was against Chicago. I did not play my best. Deke and EJ noticed, and on the flight back to Atlanta, they asked what was up. I could not tell them what was really on my mind—not because I did not trust them but because I did not think they would fully understand.
I was a full-time single fatherandan NBA player. Those two things simply did not mix. I knew many guys in the league who had kids, but a lot of them had wives or partners who held down their houses. Some of my teammates joked with me about how I needed to find a new woman to date that I could eventually turn into a wife, but I was not that guy.
