Mike scoffs, waving his hand as he picks up his drink. “Hell, no. And I said this to her the other night. You’re two consenting adults. As long as you treat her right, with love and respect, and don’t let it affect your performance on the field anymore, I have no problem with it. I recognize she’s faced adversity being a woman in a man’s world and fighting against those who believe I’d be stupid enough to hire her just because of our relationship. The last thing she wanted was to be seen as just a WAG, the same as she never wanted to be seen as a nepo hire. But neither one of those are true, and I know it just as well as you do. She needs someone to help her believe it, even when people challenge her on it. So if you love Willow and can make her happy, then that’s all that matters.”
“I don’t plan on saying those particular words again until I’m certain she’s ready to hear it directly from me and without an audience,” I say solemnly. “But rest assured, what you just said is what I believe as well.”
“Then there’s no problem I can see except for how we’re going to get your head back in the game. I need my star player back.”
This time I raise my glass first, inclining my head toward the man who’s just single-handedly told me I have a chance at having everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Thank you, sir. I promise you, I’ll be ready for tomorrow.”
The clink of our glasses has my lips quirking up. The struggle isn’t over; I still have to convince Willow to give our relationship a chance to exist out in the open. But having Mike on my side should make that task a whole hell of a lot easier.
A short while later, I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. Picking up my phone, I ignore the pang in my chest when there’s still nothing from Willow. There is, however, a message from my mom, saying Peyton’s heading to bed soon.
After I pull on some pajama pants, I sit back against the headboard of the bed and open up a video call with them. As soon as the screen fills with my little girl, I grin. “Hey, kiddo!”
“Hi Daddy! Can I see your room?”
I dutifully stand up and take her on a brief tour of my room, including pointing the phone out the window, despite the sky already being dark. When I’m done, I settle back on the bed. “So what did you get up to today?”
“Gran took me to the park at my new school, then we went for ice cream, and then I coloured a picture for Willow. Wanna see it?”
“Of course, I do.” My stomach flip-flops. The one piece of the puzzle I haven’t yet fully thought through is Peyton. If Willow can’t move forward with our relationship, my little girl will be devastated. She’s just as attached as I am. Peyton disappears from the screen for a couple of minutes before returning, brandishing a green piece of paper. She holds it up, and I see a drawing of four stick figures, and something I assume is an animal. There’s a small circle above their heads, and their hands are up.
“Looks great, baby girl. Can you describe it to me?”
“It’s you, me, Gran, and Willow playing baseball. Can’t you tell?” Peyton sounds exasperated in a way only a four-year-old can. “See? There’s the ball. You’re gonna catch it. And that’s the dog I wanna get.”
“A dog, huh?” I force a smile, even as my throat feels thick with emotion. “I love it, Pey. You’re a great artist.”
“I wanna give it to Willow. When is she coming over again?” Peyton bounces up and down on the couch in the family room, the same couch where she was cuddled up against Willow watching a movie not that long ago.
As soon as she asks that oh-so-innocent question, that thick feeling in my throat intensifies. Because it’s not one I can easily answer. “I’m not really sure. I’ll talk to her when I get home, how about that?”
“’Kay. And will you give her my picture?” Peyton goes on, blissfully unaware of how her dear old dad is tied up in knots about the very woman she wants to give a drawing.
“You bet,” I answer, raking my hand through my still-damp hair. “It’s bedtime now, though. I’ll be home in a couple of days, maybe you could draw me a picture as well? My locker at the stadium could use something new.”
“I’ll draw you one like Willow’s. Then you guys can match.”
“Sounds great.” I muster up a smile. “Now, get your booty to bed.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
My smile automatically grows a lot bigger at those three words. “Love you, too, Rocket.”
We hang up, but I don’t put my phone down. Instead, I switch over to my text messages and hover over Willow’s name. I want to respect her need for space, but I also need her to know I’m not giving up easily.
RONAN: Hey Cherry. Just want to say I miss you, and I hope I haven’t screwed things up so badly that I never get a chance to tell you I’m sorry in person. Or to say the other words I shouldn’t have said that day, even if they were – and still are – true. I’ll give you as much space as you need, I swear. But I’m not giving up on us. And I’m not going to let you give up without a fight.
I stare at my screen after I hit send, overthinking every word I just typed. Until my phone starts to vibrate in my hand with an incoming video call.
My mouth goes instantly dry as I hit answer. “Hi.”
Willow’s beautiful face fills my screen, making my heart ache. Fuck, I wish I was there right now.
“Hey,” she replies softly, and I see her settle into the corner of her couch. “I hope this is okay to just call?”
God, I hate that she sounds unsure. As if I would be upset that she called. “Cherry, this is more than okay. It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”
