A Daddy for Mother's Day_A Secret Baby Romance Read online

  “Brady, this place is beautiful.” Her voice is quiet, almost as if she’s talking more to herself than to me.

  “Meh, you know.” I shrug. “It keeps me dry.”

  I kneel down to Liam, whose eyes are still glued to the ceiling.

  “Want to see something even cooler?” I ask him.

  “Yes!”

  This kid is at Disneyland.

  “Come on, follow me.” I drop their bags on the floor. “Phil will put your stuff in your rooms.”

  We walk through the entryway into the open-concept living room and kitchen combo. The place came pre-furnished with high-end furniture and plenty of bland, contemporary art that I’ll probably replace with my Scarface posters later.

  “Right this way, right this way,” I say to my captivated guests.

  They follow me into the kitchen where I have three boxes of pizza waiting for them: one cheese, one pepperoni, and one veggie.

  “Dig in, guys. There’s a topping for everybody. Or at least I hope so.”

  Liam turns and looks at Izzie for permission.

  “Go ahead.” She nods her head and ruffles his hair with her fingers. “Go get yourself a slice.”

  Liam grabs a plate and makes a beeline to the pepperoni pizza.

  I turn to Izzie whose face seems permanently set to skeptical surprise—I mean, what was she expecting? Some shitty frat house with thongs swinging from light fixtures? Surely she should have had a little more faith in me than that.

  “You want a slice?” I motion toward the veggie option.

  She shakes head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry right now.”

  I shrug and grab a cheese slice for myself.

  “Oh, well, more pizza for me and Liam.” I turn to Liam who’s already inhaled his slice. “Am I right, little dude?”

  We high five each other. Kids are so easy to impress. Izzie on the other hand...

  After we finish our pizzas, I decide to give my guests a tour of the rest of the house. I take them upstairs to my mezzanine, which has been converted into a lounge and game area, complete with a foosball table and a couple of old school arcade games.

  Liam’s in heaven right now.

  “Do you have any newer games?” he asks while playing Ms. Pac-Man.

  Uh-oh. He’s been here for only an hour, and I’ve already spoiled him too much.

  Izzie walks up to the foosball table and starts eyeing it like it’s an old friend.

  Catching her eye, I walk up to her and grab a handle from the table. “Fancy a game? I promise to go easy on you.”

  Izzie looks at me like she’s amused and insulted at the same time.

  “Oh, no, I haven’t played foosball in forever.” She brushes her flyaway hair behind her ears. “I’m not sure if I even remember how to play.”

  “Oh, come on.” I grab the ball and drop it on the table. “I bet you’re still awesome at it.”

  Izzie reluctantly takes a spot on the other side of the table, brushing the handles with her fingertips. “Yeah, when I was younger I used to play it a lot with my sister...”

  For some reason, she trails off and stops talking. I look up at her and see that her face is a jumble of nerves, like she said something she didn’t mean to say.

  “Yeah?” I try to make her continue. “Did your sister use to kick your ass a lot or something?”

  She abruptly steps away from the table. “You know what, I really need to unpack and get situated. Maybe we can play another time.”

  Shit. What did I do now? Just when I’m thinking we’re about to get closer.

  Was it something I said?

  She walks over to Liam and places her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Liam. I think we’ve bothered Brady enough. Let’s go to our room and get out of his hair.”

  Liam looks up at her as if she just stomped on all of his childhood dreams. “But I’m having fun here!”

  He does not want to give up Pac-Man.

  Hey, I don’t blame him. I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time eating little white dots on that game.

  I rush over to Izzie. “It’s cool, I’ll watch him.”

  “Really?” She has that skeptical surprise look on her face again.

  “Yeah, we’re buds now.” I pat Liam on the head. “Go to your room, take a shower, and rest. I can’t imagine your day today. We’ll be right here.”

  Izzie looks up at me and, for the first time, I see her skepticism melt away. I think she’s genuinely touched by everything I’m doing for her, which—duh—is the point.

  “You have no idea how grateful I am for your help.”

  She then does something I don’t expect; she reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder. Sure, it’s not much, but it’s the most physical contact we’ve had so far.

  She smiles at me, looking like an angel, as she exits stage left to her room.

  I look at my shoulder where she touched me and feel a lame tingle inside. It’s crazy how she makes me so happy with so little.

  I look down at Liam who’s still hunched over Pac-Man.

  “Dude, scoot over,” I tell him. “It’s my turn.”

  Chapter 14

  Izzie

  I’m sitting here in Brady’s guest room and the place seriously looks like a hotel. As soon as I walk in, I feel paralyzed by how extravagant all of it is.

  The sheets are plush and brand new. The bed’s a gigantic king size with an expensive, intricate headboard that looks like it costs more than my entire college education. There’s even a massive 84-inch flat screen TV that’s hooked up with an Xbox, a Playstation 4, an Apple TV, and a Roku.

  Geez, now he’s just spoiling me. Surely he didn’t buy all this stuff just for me and Liam, right?

  Honestly, since arriving here, I’ve been feeling the weirdest mix of emotions. I owe Brady big time for everything he’s doing for Liam.

  When Brady said he would roll out the red carpet for us, he certainly delivered on that promise. I’m honestly surprised. I expected a lot less from him.

  And it’s not that Brady’s some disgusting guy who would make me and Liam stay in some Playboy mansion full liquor and hookers, but…is it wrong that a part of me did think that?

  It’s just so confusing. There’s the Brady that’s right in front of me who’s incredibly nice, generous, and has the most gorgeous eyes that I can simply fall into.

  And then there’s the Brady of my memories. The one who ruined my family. The cocky football quarterback who collected girls like trading cards only to break their hearts and then travel across the country to become a flashy, rich jerk.

  So which one is the real Brady?

  God, I feel so disgusted with myself for feeling this magnetic connection whenever he’s around. Just the way he brushes against me, or the way I notice his muscles subtly formed beneath his shirts.

  Why do I notice these things?

  And when that spark happens, it’s like my world stops and I can hear my heart beating in my ears as I awkwardly wait for it to stop.

  It’s like having an addiction to something I’m deathly allergic to.

  And with me being so weird around him, I’m fearful that he’s going to find out about everything. After all, here I am showing off Liam to him.

  Geez, am I being really careless here?

  Liam looks just like Brady. Same face, same eyes—everything. The only thing they don’t have in common is hair color.

  Liam’s hair has always been dark like my sister’s. They even have the same personalities. That’s probably why they’re getting along so well.

  Brady doesn’t strike me as someone who likes kids, but he and Liam are like best pals. It’s almost as if Liam is Brady’s ‘mini me.’ They both have that competitive and playful spirit and are both extremely confident.

  Crap, is Brady going to find out?

  He and Liam are now playing video games together, bonding, and who knows? Maybe Brady will turn to him and the little wheels in his brain will start cranking.
/>   He’ll start to think, this Izzie character sure is strange, and she seems so familiar. Her brother kind of resembles me as well. Wait a minute…

  I can see it so clearly now in my head. Although thankfully Brady doesn’t seem like the over-analytical type.

  Hopefully he doesn’t put the pieces together, because he absolutely can’t find out.

  I know it’s risky being here, allowing Brady to get closer to me and Liam. But once again, I can’t help but feel conflicted.

  Even though I don’t want to stay here for a week, when Brady met us outside and took our luggage and humored Liam, I couldn’t help but feel kind of…relieved?

  I’ll be honest, I’m still skeptical about Brady. I’ll never forget what the old him did to my sister, but he’s older now. Maybe he’s grown up and changed. Maybe he’s not the monster I’ve been hating and blaming for years.

  Maybe I haven’t been fair to him. After all, my sister never told him about the baby. Maybe he would have stayed if he had known.

  My sister was so stubborn and naive. She’s gone now, so I guess I don’t have any choice but try to understand and respect the choices she made. But damn was it hard to stand by her through all that; and I know it wasn’t an easy decision for her either.

  Because of her sacrifice, Brady is now a big shot football player—I mean, look at this place! This place is a palace. There’s no way he’d be this rich and famous if he stayed in Texas and helped raise Liam.

  In a way, it’s all so bittersweet. My family had to fracture in order for Brady to have his success.

  And knowing all of that, how can I be sitting here thinking about him like I’m a dumb teenage girl?

  Why the hell am I even entertaining such an asinine idea?

  Seriously, get it together, Izzie! Start thinking with your head for once.

  Because even if Brady wasn’t the dick who killed my sister, dating athletes are completely off limits. I could lose my job, and it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Why would I throw that all away just for fucking Brady, the man I’ve despised for years?

  The fact that I’m even sitting here having a mental conflict about the whole thing proves how far gone I am. It would all be so much easier if he clearly didn’t like me back.

  Although I was a tad rude to him about it, the veggie pizza option was very nice of him; I’m not even sure why I even declined the slice. I was touched, but I think I was afraid of showing any positive emotions toward him.

  I don’t want him to get any ideas—especially now that I’m in his house and sleeping in his bed.

  I suppose that’s also why I was terrified when he asked me to play foosball. Now that he knows I have a sister, will he put the pieces together? That was really stupid of me to bring her up at all.

  He probably thought I was being icy cold and distant on purpose. Little does he know that the truth is so much worse. So, so much worse.

  I can’t imagine how he’d react if he ever found out. God, he’d be furious.

  Would he take out his anger on Liam?

  Oh, please. What am I saying?

  He’ll definitely take out his anger on me. After all, it is a pretty messed up thing to keep from someone—which is exactly why he can never find out.

  My sister wanted the secret to die with her, and I must maintain her secret—it was her dying wish. I just wish the person who ruined her life looked like a troll and not like Adonis. It would make this whole complex situation a lot easier to navigate.

  Ugh, this bed is so soft. I can live here forever.

  My mind’s on autopilot as I wonder what Brady’s bed looks like. Is his bed as comfy and perfect as this one? I bet he sleeps right dab in the middle with his rock-hard arms all spread out.

  When I touched him on his shoulder a few minutes ago, I could feel every ripple under his shirt. Feeling the warmth of his skin suddenly made me very aware of his body. Just imagining it brings that ringing back to my ears.

  And now I feel ashamed of myself again.

  I mean, there’s nothing wrong with finding Brady attractive, right? He looks like Hercules; how can anyone not find him to be a total babe—which he is? And from the way he struts about the stadium, I can tell he knows it too.

  But that doesn’t mean I have to initiate anything. I can keep my distance from him, and handle the rest of the week as professional as possible. At the end of the day, we’re co-workers.

  And yes, we have a deeper history together, but no one has to know about that.

  What would my sister think of me messing around with her ex? Liam’s dad? She’d probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

  In the meantime, I just have to monitor my feelings the best I can. After all, the body wants what it wants, but I must be stronger than that.

  As I sit on his amazing, soft bed, I repeat to myself, Brady’s the dick that killed your sister. Brady’s the dick that killed your sister. Brady’s the dick that killed your sister.

  It’s just a little attraction. That’s all. Nothing more.

  I plop myself down on his bed with a resounding thump and sigh.

  God, this bed is actually heaven.

  Chapter 15

  Izzie

  I open my eyes, stretch, and toss my head from side to side. And then I blink furiously in a wave of sudden confusion.

  Where the hell am I?

  Certainly not my place, not with a bedroom this size or a bed this totally comfortable. Or a ceiling without cracks in the paint.

  Then, it occurs to me.

  Oh.

  I think about last night and how tangled up I was about Brady and Liam and what would happen if Brady found out that Liam is his.

  But now, in the morning light—and, to be honest, feeling so totally relaxed—it doesn’t seem like quite so big a deal.

  I just have to stay on my toes and not get suckered into thinking that Brady is actually a great guy underneath the jock exterior.

  What was last night’s mantra? Right. Brady’s the dick who killed your sister.

  In the light of day, it almost seems kind of over the top. Definitely feeling my drama queen tendencies there. Still, I need to remember Lucy and my promise to her.

  I shake my head to let those thoughts go, then stretch luxuriously, glancing at my phone beside me.

  Holy shit. Eight o’clock? No. No no no no, it can’t be.

  I practically leap out of bed. Liam needs to be woken up, fed, and ready to leave for school in half an hour. Frantically, I throw on a pair of leggings under my nightshirt, then wrench open the door and dash down the hallway to Liam’s room.

  “Liam, hurry up, I overslept…” I say as I go into his room, already in action mode and thinking about what he needs to wear to school today.

  My voice trails off.

  No Liam. Just a rumpled bed.

  A spike of panic stabs me.

  Where is he? Did he wander off? He doesn’t know where he is, really…

  I almost trip down the wide staircase as I leap over steps to get to the bottom. Where is he?

  I try to think where he might go. He’s probably hungry. Where’s the goddam kitchen again?

  “Liam!” I call, nearly skidding on the polished marble floor of the foyer, cool under my bare feet. “Liam?”

  “Eww, what’s that gross green stuff?” I hear Liam say.

  “Kale,” I hear Brady reply. “It’s good for you, man. Can’t do much if you don’t feed your body right.”

  “I’d rather have pizza,” Liam says pointedly as I round the corner into the kitchen. “Some pizza has green stuff on it. Peppers and junk. So it must be good for me, too, right?”

  Liam is sitting at one of the tall stools pulled up to the kitchen island. In front of him is a plate of scrambled eggs, half-eaten, and—wow—what looks like…whole grain toast? And orange juice, too.

  Amazingly, Liam the picky eater seems to be liking the stuff, even if it isn’t pizza. Which I hope he isn’t giving the impression that that’s what
he usually eats for breakfast…

  Brady is standing on the other side of the island with a blender that looks like it could power a small country. Oddly, he looks kind of sweaty and overheated, as if he’s already had a workout.

  He expertly feeds kale and then a handful of blueberries into it, then pushes the button. He looks up and sees me, smiling and saying something that’s drowned out by the roar of the blender.

  “What?” I scream into the sudden silence as he stops it.

  “I said, good morning,” Brady says, with a grin. “Did you sleep well?”

  I climb onto the stool next to Liam, who has gone back to eating his eggs. “Hey, guy,” I say to him, tousling his hair in the way I know he hates, but it reassures me that he’s here and everything’s fine. “I see you got some breakfast. Who made it?”

  Liam points to Brady, unable to speak around his mouthful of eggs.

  “That’s kinda insulting. I did, of course,” Brady says, pouring the green smoothie into a glass and chugging it. “Who else?”

  I eye him speculatively. “I guess I didn’t figure you as a guy who cooks,” I say as he reaches behind him and pours a cup of coffee from a huge coffee machine that looks like something NASA might invent for a space flight.

  But I don’t argue when he pushes it in front of me, and I take a huge sip, wishing there was a faster way to get caffeine into my system. Now that I’m paying attention, I can see that the stove and the sink are filled with a lot more dishes than most people—like me—would need to make scrambled eggs and toast.

  “I cook,” Brady says with a shrug. “Though not much anymore. It’s more work than I remember. But this guy was hungry, and it seemed like you could use some extra sleep, so…”

  “It looks like it was a pretty big effort,” I remark, looking him over and trying not to dwell on the fact that his muscular arms are so well-displayed in a sleeveless tee shirt.

  “It takes him a lot longer than it takes you,” Liam observes, drinking his juice and then swiping his mouth with his sleeve. Wordlessly, I hand him a napkin.

  “What can I say? I’m out of practice,” Brady replies, pouring another glass of his smoothie. “I used to make breakfast for my brothers and sister all the time.”