“And Bubba, Xander, and Jules,” I add, reminding her she has three other children besides me. “Bubba and Juliette are doing what they love and both have beautiful families. And Xander is brilliant and currently in med school. They are all amazing, and that’s thanks to the men who raised us.” My voice holds all the passion and love I feel for my family, and Delphine’s mouth softens into a smile.
“You’re right, honey. But the fact remains that Emmett and Isaac did push me out of your lives. They threatened me and forced me to have no contact with my own children.”
A thunderstorm forms deep in my gut. That doesn’t sound like Dad or Pops at all. “What do you mean… threatened?”
She blows out a long breath before speaking. “They informed me that if I didn’t stay away, they would sue me for back child support. Bubba and Juliette were teenagers at the time, so that would have been many years’ worth and way more money than I had.” Her watery eyes hold mine. “So I felt like I didn’t have any other choice.”
I pick up my fork, but I don’t eat anything. Instead, I jab holes in my omelet as I take in what she said. “But why would they do that?”
Delphine blows a raspberry and shakes her blonde head. “Something about being unreliable.” Her shoulders inch up a bit in defiance. “Yes, I liked to travel and paint, but it’s not like I left my kids with a hobo on the street. I left you all with your fathers. They just didn’t understand my need to spread my wings.” Her eyes drift up to the corner of the room. “I had two teenagers, a toddler, and an infant. It was all very overwhelming for me.”
Then maybe you should have stopped having kids,I think, even though I was the infant she was referring to and wouldn’t exist if she’d abstained.
“So that’s why you never got in touch?”
My mother nods and dabs her eyes with her napkin. “Yes. Trust me, I would have loved nothing more than to be in your life.”
I frown and cut my food into tiny pieces though I don’t takeanother bite. The thunderstorm in my belly has transformed into a tornado, and I don’t think I can stomach eating right now.
“Have you contacted my sister or brothers?” I ask, peeking up at Delphine to find her lips turned downward.
“No. I don’t think Juliette and Bubba want to have anything to do with me, and if Xander’s in med school, I don’t want to bother him.” Her shoulders lift and fall in a vulnerable shrug. “And like I said, I think it’s a sign that you keep popping up on my newsfeed. So I thought I’d reach out and see if you would be interested in…”
“In what?” I ask.
“In maybe getting to know me? Letting me get to know you?” Two tears stream down her face, and it breaks something inside me. I don’t want to make her cry. “I’ve missed you so much, honey.”
I’d like to be able to tell her I missed her too, but that would be a lie. Maybe at times I missed theideaof having a mother, but as for missing her personally? Well, I don’t even know her.
“Can I think about it?” I question tentatively.
Delphine swipes the tears away with her palms, and her smile returns in full force. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want, Jordie. All I want is a chance.”
Later that evening, as I stare at the white ceiling of my bedroom and watch the fan cast shadows on the smooth surface, I go over it all in my mind. Did Pops and Dad really threaten her? I just can’t imagine it, but why would she lie?
And perhaps a tiny part of me wants to believe it. It’s better than thinking she just didn’t want me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The WNFL draft
Jordie
I sit on the couch at Reno and Juliette’s gorgeous house with my family flanking me. I can feel the television cameras pointed at my face, but I’m trying not to look at them. My agent told me to act naturally and pretend like they’re not even here.
It’s a little hard to ignore an entire ESPN crew though. The TV people have all been super nice, but I’m still annoyed by their presence. I’ve been primped, blotted, and brushed more times than I can count today. And they wanted me to wear a dress—ugh. I’m not a dress kind of girl.
Juliette is the girly-girl-sundress-and-sunshine member of the family, and she helped me pick out a purple A-line dress that looks good on me. It hits just above my knee, so it’s not form-fitting. Not that I couldn’t pull off a snug dress. I know I have a nicely toned body from all the years of football workouts, but this was the one I felt most comfortable in.
I chose purple because that’s the color of the Houston Dragons—yes, the league took our suggestion to dropLadyfrom all the team names—the team I’m hoping will draft me today. Maybe I’m doing a little bit of manifesting with my color choice.
And I’m not totally anti-dress. I know there are times when it’sappropriate, but I just don’t understand why I had to wear one today. I’m a football player, not a fashion model. Why the hell couldn’t I have worn my favorite sweats and a T-shirt? I would have even chosen a shirt without holes since I’m going to be on national TV and everything. See? I can be reasonable.
There was one member of the crew that I liked instantly. His name is Leopold, and he’s the hair stylist and the only one who actually asked me what I wanted. You know, since it’s my damn head.
When I told him I wanted a ponytail, he only winced a little before going to work. Sure, my hair ended up a bit more coiffed than I usually wear it since he’d teased and sprayed the ponytail to within an inch of its life to give it some volume, but I have to admit it looks good.
Bubba sits in a chair to the left of the couch, and he gives me a sharp nod, which I know is both a question and a reassurance. He’s been through the draft for hockey, so he knows how I’m feeling right now. I bob my head up and down a few times to let him know I’m okay.
