I squeeze his hand, feeling like real shit again considering how I thought this would go. “Thank you, Foster. I?—”
“No. We start over now. Forget all that shit from earlier. I learned a long time ago that actions change people’s perception, not words. So I know I’m promising you a bunch of things, and I mean every one of them, but I’ll show you how serious I am.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I suck them back.
This is not what I thought I was going to get out of Foster when I told him we were going to have a baby. It’s a welcome surprise, but at the same time, I’ve heard a lot of promises from others who said they would be there for me, and when it came down to it, they weren’t. I think I’ll keep that wall erected a little longer.
Chapter
Ten
Foster
* * *
“You’ve been quiet. Something going on?” Hayes asks after we order our coffees.
We were hanging out today, and somehow, we were instructed to go get coffees for Leighton and Callie and drop them off at some bridal place where Leighton is trying on wedding gowns.
“Nah. Anyway, I thought it was bad luck for you to see the dress?” I’m trying to stop us from having to go to the bridal shop for two reasons. One, I don’t ever want to be in a bridal store, and two, Callie is there. And although we’ve figured out our shit, the one thing we haven’t figured out is how and when to tell Hayes. I have no idea if she’s told Leighton I’m the baby’s father, and if she did, Leighton clearly didn’t tell Hayes since he’s been more than fine with me all day.
Which only makes me feel like an even bigger asshole.
“I’m not going in. You are,” Hayes says.
“No, I’m not.” I lean against the wall and lower my hat, although my neck tats give me away.
The two of us together is like a flashing neon sign. So far no one has approached us though. I will say, I’m not sure if Chicago fans don’t give a shit about their professional athletes, but I haven’t had many people approach me in public since I came here.
“Yes, you are, because you don’t want your best friend to start off his marriage with bad juju.”
I scowl at him. “Juju? Who the fuck are you, man?”
He chuckles as the woman brings our drinks to the counter. Two to-go trays with eight cups.
“Who are all these for?”
Hayes chuckles again. I will say he’s a happy fucker since Leighton and the kids came into his life. Makes me wonder if when this kid comes, I will be too.
“It’s Kyleigh Landry’s store,” he says.
“Who?”
He picks up one tray, and I pick up the other, the two of us weaving through the mid-morning rush inside the coffee shop.
“Rowan Landry’s wife. The center for the Falcons.”
My head falls back in recognition.
As we approach the door, a gentleman holds the door open for us. “We’re rooting for you boys.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hayes says. “We’re trying our best.”
I nod, and his gaze flashes to my neck, presumably to my tattoos, but he doesn’t comment. “Good luck tomorrow. Toronto is gonna be tough.”
Hayes is polite as always. I nod again since my stomach is in knots because my pitching hasn’t exactly been stellar. I’m not getting the velocity I had last year, and it’s hard not to wonder if I’m in some downward spiral toward retirement. There’s no way I’m gonna be one of those guys who draws each drop of blood before calling it quits. I will go out on top as much as I possibly can.
The baby changes things a little. I’ll have a little life to support and make sure he or she wants for nothing.
