“I deserved that, I suppose.”
“You’re easily riled.”
“Gullible, too.”
“I doubt that. It’s just I’ve upended your expectation. The last thing you saw coming was a humorous response from, shudder, Slug Girl.”
What was happening here? It was like our wavelengths had suddenly aligned. My heart lifted with the potential of it all.
“Of course,” she continued, “just because I can see the humor in the situation does not mean I think this is a good idea.”
Splat! Flat as a discarded balloon after the county fair.
“How about I state my case?”
“It would help if I could see your side of it.”
She took a seat, placed her hands in her lap, and waited expectantly.
I think I was supposed to stand, and frankly I needed to move here. I pulled myself upright, backed up a few steps, and faced her like she was the league’s Commissioner, and the future of my career was on the line.
“There’s no doubt I can provide financially. I have a big family with a lot of people on board who love kids. You’ve seen the Kershaws—they’re as mad about kids as they are about hockey.”
She merely stared, unblinking, not a jot of encouragement. Sweat prickled my brow. My neck felt hot. I was a student in her class, one with a C-average, who hadn’t submitted his assignment on time.
“I see my brother with his kids, my teammates with theirs, and I want that. I want to feel that pride and love for someone.” The pride and love I didn’t receive from my own father. I wouldn’t lean into that because the doc would probably pull a Freud, but I would use it to fuel my argument behind the scenes. “I have a lot to give a kid, and to be honest, a child should have both parents around, if possible. I’m not saying you’re not resourceful enough to do this, but wouldn’t you like to have that extra support?”
Kind of fizzled out at the end there, but I wasn’t going to beg her to pick me.
“You make some good points.”
“I do?” I took a seat beside her. “I mean, yeah, I do.”
“I have thought about whether a child should have his father around—my own father has been a strong and encouraging influence in my life—but I’ve also been worried about ceding control. I like the idea of making all the decisions.”
So the doc was a control freak. I got it. I had a little of that in me as well.
Maybe I could hit it from another angle. “Who else is on your list?”
“Why?”
“Just show me.”
She reached for her laptop, and the movement tightened her blouse, outlining the curve of her breast. Not that I was especially interested, but I was a man and when presented with curves, I took my shot and used my eyeballs as the good Lord intended. Francesca St. James had a more than decent rack.
She turned back, completely oblivious to my horn dog ways, and opened the laptop. After a few clicks, she had a spreadsheet up. Several lines of text had been crossed out, but I still recognized a couple of names.
“Boden?” The Rebels goalkeeper was in the running?
“I’ve met Noah a few times. He seems very placid.”
You mean dull? I failed to see what that had to do with a sperm donation.
“Kind of a man whore. There’s a distinct possibility he’ll be creating little brothers and sisters for your kid all over the country.”
She frowned. “I hadn’t heard that. I have a Google alert on him and there’s been very little said.”
“He’s pretty discreet but y’know, the guys talk.” I moved on to another player. “MacFarlane? Guy’s a dick. More than me.”
