“He… um—” The woman glances over her shoulder, searching for what, I don’t know, but when she turns back to me, she looks almost panicked as she says, “Hold on. I’ll just… I’ll see if he’s available.”
Available? What is this? A fucking brothel?
The door closes with a gentle click, and I huff incredulously, taking a step back because… she just closed the door in my face. My anger has officially returned, and I’m about to lose what very little cool I have left, vitriol burning the tip of my tongue.
A minute or so later, the door swings open again, Happy standing there, a little out of breath, his hair a chaotic mess, the white button down he’d been wearing earlier untucked from his suit pants, the sleeves rolled up, a few buttons unfastened, a suspicious pink stain on the collar. He’s the definition of a disheveled mess, and his face is fraught with a combination of surprise and concern.
“Baby Draper?” He looks me up and down, his shoulders falling in apparent relief, like he’s actually glad it’s me. He rakes a hand through his already mussed hair. “Allie said there was a girl at the door, and I was so scared it was some puck bunny who found out where I live.”
I gawk at him and, in a deep voice, I throw back the words he told me himself with angry stabbing finger quotes, “I promise it’s not what you think…?”
Happy’s eyebrows knit together, and I think he’s genuinely confused. The audacity.
“Who the hell isAllie?” I whisper-yell.
He stares at me for a long moment, the cogs in his mind turning, albeit slowly, before he cocks his head to the side in understanding. But just when he’s about to say something, the moment is interrupted by a tiny human with honey blonde hair dressed inBlueypajamas sidling in next to Happy and hugging his thigh.
I look from the little girl back to Happy, blinking once.
Happy hesitates before crouching down on one knee, getting to the little girl’s eye level so she can whisper something into his ear. Wrapping an arm around her slight shoulders, Happy smiles from her to me. “That’s Hannah,” he says, indicating me, and the little girl waves, flashing me a shy grin.
I wave back, my confusion well and truly piqued because what the hell is going on?
Happy hesitates for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Hannah, this… this is my daughter, Lucky.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
As I follow Happy and his…daughter… up a grand spiral staircase, it’s as if I’m in some sort of trance. Like I’m no longer in control of my own self. Catatonic, almost.
As expected, the inside of the house is just as breathtaking as the outside. An eclectic mix of old-money, art deco, and ultra-modern—chaotic, but I’d expect nothing less from someone as unhinged as Jonny Slater appears to be.
When we clear the landing, I’m met with the first floor, which consists of one huge sprawling space that contains a big open kitchen toward the back, an informal eating area, and a cozy den at the front filled with a luxurious U-shaped sofa and toys galore.
I pause, noticing the woman,Allie, in the kitchen, standing behind the island looking almost as confused as I am. And I feel sick. Because if this is my way of finding out that not only is Happy very muchnotsingle, but that he also has a child, I might just die right here on this very spot.
“Hey, Lucky Duck, you wanna go on up to bed, and I’ll be in soon to read your book?” Happy says to the adorable girl who is looking only at me. Her big brown eyes twinkle before she turns to her dad and nods.
“Come on, girlfriend,” Allie says, walking out from behind the kitchen counter. She holds her hand out, and as soon as Happy sets Lucky down onto her feet, she runs to Allie and, with one last curious glimpse back in my direction, they disappear up the stairs.
I snap my head Happy’s way to find him already looking like he’s waiting for me to speak first. So, I do. “Happy, you—” I stop myself, searching for words that make at least some semblance of sense. “You have achild.”
He lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah.”
I shake my head, at a loss despite the multitude of questions I’m desperate to know the answers to that are currently swirling around in my mind.
“Allie is Lucky’s nanny,” he says after a beat, pointing at the stairs they just walked up. “She lives here with us, but last night she had a late class, and my mom was here looking after Luck. That’s who called when we were—” He snaps his mouth shut before adding softly, “My mother. Notanother woman.”
“Oh,” is all I can manage, looking down at my hands and feeling really bad for doubting him. When I overheard him sayI love you,he was talking to his mom.
“Who else knows?” I ask gently. “About… Lucky.”
“Nobody outside of my family and my agent,” he answers without missing a beat.
My eyes flare. Happy has a secret child and she’s at least six, maybe even older. Hell, I know nothing about kids; she could be ten for all I know. Happy has played with the New York Thunder for three years; how has he managed to keepthisfrom everyone?
“Not even Logan?” I press.
He shakes his head, but then he offers a slight grimace. “I mean, there is one person at the team who knows…”
