Page 56 of A Game Plan for Love

Her laugh is a bitter, empty thing. “It’s why my parents told me I was wasting my potential.” She lifts her chin in defiance of whatever her parents told her.That’s my girl.“I was invited to the Olympic trials for volleyball. But then I found out I was pregnant with Nora, and the decision was to terminate the pregnancy or pull my name from the trials. It was an easy choice.”

A question sits on the tip of my tongue, but a part of me is afraid to know the answer. I ask anyway. “Nora’s father?”

“A loser.” Addie shakes her head. “Condom broke and he didn’t tell me. He signed away his rights before Nora was born. He’s never met her, and he isnother father. Just a sperm donor.”

“Got it.”

Am I a terrible person for the relief I have that he’s not in the picture?

“That’s all my baggage,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I wanted you to know before we moved any farther, just in case…”

“In case, what?”

“It’s too much,” she admits quietly. Her head drops, and I tip her chin so she looks me in the eyes. Vulnerability shines in those hazel eyes.

I have to bite back the uncomfortable laugh that threatens to escape. Little does she know her baggage is tiny compared to mine.

“If I told you all of my baggage, would it scare you away?” I ask. She shakes her head. “It’s no different for me. It’s hard for me to talk about,” my throat is thick with discomfort, “but I grew up in foster care.”

Addie sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“For the first twelve years, I lived in a home with an older couple. They were kind, but they had multiple foster children, and when the husband got sick, they no longer had the capability to foster everyone. I was moved to a group home, but when I was fifteen, my high school football coach went through the training to become a foster parent. I lived with him until I went to Notre Dame.”

Her fingers swipe away a tear that trails down my cheek. This is not how I wanted the night to go; both of us in tears on my couch.

“He died last December of a heart attack. It was sudden, and it felt like my heart was ripped from my chest.”

It’s all the details I can get out before my throat closes up and the guilt begins to drown me. I’m floating away when Addie’s voice brings me back to the shore.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, fingers digging into the back of my neck.

The action is soothing, and for the first time in a long time, it’s freeing to share about my life with someone else. Maybe because in a fucked up way, Addie understands. While it’s not the same, she empathizes with the struggles of family dynamics and how heavily it can weigh on your shoulders.

We sit in silence on the couch as our confessions hang around us. Addie leans forward and grabs another card.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” she asks.

I let out a small chuckle. “The first time I heard your name was at Donna’s Diner when Deon waxed poetic about the new nutritionist and her ‘tropical bonanza’ smoothie. The first time I saw you was also clouded by Deon’s weird obsession with you.”

“He’s got the right idea. Everyone should be obsessed with me. You need to get to his level,” she teases.

“Oh, I’m there. Trust me.” I squeeze her sides and she giggles. “But the first time I truly saw you as anything more than a coworker was when I saved you from disaster. And you took my breath away as you gobbled down a cheeseburger and ribs with a gorgeous smile.”

“I am gorgeous, aren’t I?”

“And so, so humble,” I respond, then press a kiss on her forehead.

She preens and burrows deeper into my side, yawning heavily. The card game lies forgotten on the table as her head begins to drop then rise quickly. She shakes herself out of her slumber.

“Stay the night,” I whisper.

She sucks in a breath. “I—”

“Clothes on. I just want to hold you,” I admit.

I want to hold her in my arms and allow what I feel for her to grow. It’s beating in my chest, right beside my heart, and it deserves to be felt.

“Okay.”

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