Page 41 of Unrivaled

“Yay!” The bouncing resumes, then he runs back into the fray, climbing into a boat and moving all around like he’s being tossed at sea.

I may not know the first thing about diapers and packing the right amount of snacks and clean up supplies for a trip to a mall playground, but I already know I’d do just about anything to keep a smile on that kid’s face.

“He’s really cute,” I say after watching him go down the slide a couple more times.

“He is,” Tiffany agrees easily.

We watch him in relative silence for a while, and while it’s not uncomfortable, the question of how we’re going to tell Ben who I really am to him needles me like a thorn stuck under my clothes. If we can get that out of the way, maybe we can move from stilted silence to actual conversation.

“So what’s your plan?” I ask at last.

She turns to me, her eyes as wide as Ben’s were a few minutes ago, and suddenly I see echoes of her in his face as well. “My plan?”

I gesture around, encompassing us, Ben, and the play area. “We’re telling him today, right? That was the impression I was under, at least. But this doesn’t seem like the most conducive spot to have a conversation.”

She ducks her head like she’s trying to hide behind her hair, but it’s piled on top of her head in a messy bun, so the move doesn’t really work. “Yeah.” She clears her throat. “There’s not—” Looking up, she shakes her head and sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“That makes two of us,” I mutter.

She shoots me a look, her lips quirked in a rueful smile, and for a brief shining moment, it feels like we’re in this together. Not adversaries or whatever we’ve been, but like we’re on the same side. “There’s not exactly a handbook on this, you know? I actually poked around on the internet last night to see if there were any tips.”

“And?” I tried that too, but didn’t even know how to frame the question so Google would give me any answers that might help.

She shrugs. “And it’s all very subjective. Go slow—which we’ve already agreed on—and validate your kid’s feelings kind of stuff.” Pressing her lips together, her eyes on Ben, she shakes her head. “I don’t know that there’s a right way, really. All we can do is our best.” She looks at me again. “If you don’t want to tell him here or in the food court, that’s fine, I just …” She shrugs again. “I don’t really know where would be better? Most things said familiar surroundings are best for young kids. But I still live with my parents, and I didn’t think having them around would be helpful today. The park by their house is familiar, but it’s too cold to be outside for long. So that left here.”

Nodding, I slump down on the industrial carpet covered slab of wood masquerading as a bench to try to get comfortable, enjoying this fleeting feeling of camaraderie for as long as it’ll last. “Makes sense,” I say gamely. While I might not’ve been thrilled about a mall play area and food court as a first choice of venue, there really aren’t a lot of options for neutral territory that’s also familiar to Ben. Hearing her admit to winging it makes me feel better about the fact that I feel like I’m at sea in a life raft without even an oar, much less a motor to navigate the choppy waves.

She glances at me before looking at Ben again. “We can schedule something else. Tell him another time. If you want.”

“No.”

She looks at me, eyes wide at my barked negative. And just like that, I’ve fucked up whatever connection we shared. Dammit.

Forcing a deep breath, I try again. “Sorry. That came out harsher than I intended.” I sit up straighter. “I don’t want to wait. And I don’t have any better suggestions of places to meet. I mean, there’s my apartment, but that doesn’t meet the familiar surroundings requirement, and I don’t have any toys or anything there.” Shit. Should I have gotten him a toy for today? I didn’t even think about that until just now.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Tiffany says, turning and digging through the bag next to her. She pulls something orange out and slides it toward me along the back of the bench. “Hurry, stick it in your pocket or under your coat before he sees it. He’s got a sixth sense for anything you don’t want him to see. Packing that in there and keeping him from noticing was a whole thing.”

My fingers brush hers as I take the hard plastic toy from her hand, a zing of electricity passing between us. Her lips part, and I’m ultra aware of how close we’re sitting, how she’s leaning toward me, how I could press my thigh to hers if I closed the few inches between us …

She jerks her hand away, turning toward her bag again, making a production of arranging everything just right.

I look down at what she handed me and find an orange and red triceratops in my hand.

“Hide it. Quick!” she hisses, and I obediently stuff it under the coat in my lap. She relaxes back against the wall, giving me some serious side eye. “You’ll have to up your subterfuge if you’re gonna be a dad.”

“What?” Something about her referring to me as a dad is messing with my head, and none of her words make sense.

She chuckles, adjusting her position on the uncomfortable bench, and that rare glimpse of laughter from her dazzles me as much as her earlier words addled me. “I’m not saying you need to be a pathological liar or anything, but you gotta be able to hide toys and stuff. Otherwise he’ll figure out you’re Santa and the Easter Bunny before he turns four.”

An answering grin pulls at my lips. “Thanks for the tip.” An image comes to my mind of pulling out hidden presents for Christmas and setting them around a tree for Ben to find when he wakes up in the morning. I shake it off quickly, though, because in that vision Tiffany’s with me, tiptoeing around, giggling and trying to stay quiet as we set everything out together. Which is definitely impossible.

I mean, would I want that anyway? I’m supposed to be focusing on my football career. I’ve purposely kept myself free of entanglements and relationships. Now … I guess I’m firmly entangled whether I wanted to be or not.

And maybe I didn’t want to before. But now that I know about Ben … you couldn’t pay me enough money to stay away.

My eyes are drawn to her profile, and I study her as she watches Ben, tracing the lines of her face with my eyes, remembering the feel of her plump lips under mine. Sure, it’s been years, and maybe I’m embellishing the memory, but I remember thinking she was hot as fuck that night and how much fun it was to get to screw with my rival by dancing with his girlfriend. I caught him watching us, but when I kissed her it became far more about her than about screwing with him. And when she agreed to head to a bedroom …

Ben comes running up, out of breath and sweaty, pulling me out of the memory of our night together. “Mommy! Mommy! I’m thirsty!”

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