Page 33 of Unrivaled

With her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes fall closed. She expels a breath like I hit her in the gut, and guilt twists in mine. “No,” she says at length on a hoarse whisper. “No, I don’t want that.”

We sit for another moment, me staring at her, her keeping her eyes closed, her shoulders hunched as though to ward off an attack while I try to figure out how to get us back on the more positive footing I thought we were achieving before I made the horrific mistake of—gasp—opening her door for her. A literal minute ago I felt hopeful, and just like that, we’re back in the shit.

She has all the cards here. I want us to get along. Threatening to take her to court seems like a bad way to go about that.

She blinks her eyes open and sniffs—oh god, is she going to cry?

Studiously avoiding my gaze, she buckles her seatbelt. “I’m parked by the administration building. Pick where you want to have dinner, and I’ll follow you.”

I keep looking at her, hoping she’ll look at me so I can offer a real apology, but she won’t. Finally, with a sigh, I buckle my own seatbelt and pull out of the parking spot. “I’m sorry,” I offer quietly as I slowly make my way through the parking lot.

She doesn’t respond, sitting with her arms crossed and her face turned to her window.

“I’d really like for us to get along,” I try again. “Is there any way I can convince you to ride with me to the restaurant?

“No.” It’s flat and definitive and doesn’t make me feel great about our upcoming negotiations, but at least it’s marginally better than silence. Marginally.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tiffany

The drive to a quick service burrito place close to campus gives me a brief reprieve from Grayson’s overwhelming presence.

He’s determined and uncowed by my glares and rudeness. Dammit. I was half hoping that if I were unpleasant enough, maybe he’d just give up and leave us alone.

But it’s clear he won’t do that, and if he’s threatening to take me to court to sue for parental rights … I’m going to have to suck it up and play ball.

That thought still makes me sick, and even though the smell of spiced meats would normally make my mouth water, right now it reminds me of when I had morning sickness with Ben and any strong smells made me want to puke. My dad likes to snack on chips and salsa, and just being in the same room with him eating that would make me want to hurl. For a few months, he was only allowed to eat his favorite salsa when I wasn’t around and he had to immediately wash the dish after.

Would Grayson have done that for me if he’d been around?

I swat the thought away as I look around for him. He should’ve had the opportunity—would’ve if I’d gotten my way. I’m still not sure I believe his excuse that he never found out.

And even if it’s true, the fact that he wants to see his son now doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It could just be some kind of ego boost for him. Possessiveness, wanting what’s his, and not anything to do with what’s best for Ben.

Drawing my determination to protect my son at all costs around me like a cloak, I head for the corner booth where Grayson has parked, a plastic number tent sitting on the edge of the table.

He stands when I get close and gestures to the front counter. “I didn’t know what you’d want, but I can get it for you if you want to order something.”

Shaking my head, I slide onto the bench opposite him, setting my clutch next to me and folding my hands in my lap. “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” He sinks onto his bench, but doesn’t scoot all the way in, his brows drawn together.

With a huffy sigh, I shake my head again. “I already told you, this is unnecessary. If I want food, I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself. I’m not hungry. Can we please just get this over with?”

His lips firm, his brows drawing down as he slides all the way into his seat, a muscle in his jaw bulging.

He’s irritated? Too damn bad. I’ve been irritated since I saw him a few weeks ago, and my irritation’s only gotten worse.

Undeterred by his subtle display of displeasure, I put my arms on the table and lean close to him, pitching my voice so we won’t easily be overheard by the few people in the mostly empty restaurant.

“Look. I understand that you want to get to know Ben. He’s an awesome kid, so I can’t really blame you. But you have to understand that I’ve made the decision not to introduce Ben to people who don’t have an interest in being in his life long term. Which means, when I date, I have to be certain about the relationship before bringing Ben into it. If you’re not going to stick around, I’m not interested in letting him get attached to you, only for you to buzz off in a few months and break his little heart.”

He sucks in a breath, straightening in his seat, his dark eyes narrowed and fiery as he processes what I’ve said.

“I have no intention of disappearing,” he says at length.

It’s my turn to narrow my eyes. “You say that, and yet I’m quite certain that you’re planning on entering the NFL draft soon. Or did I mishear all the rumors flying around about you?”

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