Page 46 of Unrivaled

I step back, giving her room to get to her door, then move to stand near Ben’s window so I can wave at him as they drive away.

He waves back, a big grin on his face, thrilled with the attention. I force myself to smile back until I can’t see him anymore. But I don’t feel like smiling. I feel somehow bereft after only two hours with the both of them.

I promised football with him next Saturday, so we won’t be meeting at the mall playground again unless the weather’s truly terrible. At least I have the promise of seeing him a few minutes a day to look forward to. And in that time, I can hash out with Tiffany where we should get together next weekend.

And hopefully rein in my entirely inappropriate and unwelcome feelings toward her.

* * *

The next two weeks pass in a blur. I meet Tiffany every day to pick up Ben from preschool, swinging him out to the car every day as promised. And every day they burrow their way into my heart a little more.

With Ben, that’s not a problem. Yeah, we’re taking things slow, but he’s my kid. I’m supposed to think he’s the greatest thing in the world, right?

But with Tiffany … spending time with her every afternoon, finding ways to make her laugh or smile, it makes it more difficult to keep my feelings—and my hands—to myself. And when her face starts lighting up at the sight of me, I feel a thrill of victory tempered by a profound sense of disappointment that it won’t ever be anything more.

She keeps her distance, carefully out of touching range, and I keep my hands in my pockets to remind myself that I’m not supposed to touch her no matter how much I want to. Every day I have to restrain myself from pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her. And when we say goodbye, I stop myself from hugging her and placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, or her forehead … or her lips.

Seeing her and Ben has quickly become the highlight of my day, even if it’s over almost as soon as it starts and full of unfulfilled longing.

The pressure of my own desires is compounded by my parents wanting to meet their grandson. They haven’t been hounding me or anything, giving me time and space to get things settled, and I’ve been giving them updates and pictures. But I know they’re anxious to meet Ben, and that knowledge weighs on me.

I worry that asking right now would upset the delicate friendship I’ve struck up with Tiffany. And I’m not willing to do anything that would send us back to the stilted awkwardness of those first few meetings. Not when she greets me with smiles and falls into easy conversation like we’re old friends, texting me photos of Ben making silly faces or drawings he’s made when we’re apart.

Our day at the park playing football with Ben went goes a long way toward getting Tiffany on my team. She helps coach me on how her dad plays football with him after laughing at me standing and staring at Ben open mouthed when we got out in the grass, all bundled up in sweatshirts against the chill despite the unseasonable sunshine.

My regulation sized football is obviously way too big for him, and Tiffany came prepared with the Nerf ball he uses with her dad.

Saying goodbye at the end of our visit is the most painful part. I actually got to touch her under the guise of playing football, her thick layers making her cuter rather than less attractive, and it takes everything in me not to wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair. But I manage to restrain myself. Barely.

For our next visit, the weather is bad—just enough above freezing for the drizzle to be rain instead of snow and cold enough to be nothing but miserable—so she’s bringing Ben over to my apartment for the first time.

I’ve acquired a handful of toys—some blocks and Duplos I got from my mom that were mine and Piper’s when we were kids plus a Little People plane and a few wooden peg puzzles that looked nice when I saw them at the store. Walking up and down the toy aisle was overwhelming, though. There are so many choices. And I don’t know Ben well enough to know what he’ll like.

The one thing I was confident about was getting him his own little foam football stamped with MU and a kids’ Marycliff Football jersey from the campus store. The jersey might be big on him since they didn’t have toddler sizes, but I want him to have it anyway. Maybe it’s silly since my one and only football season here is over, but I feel just as much a part of this school as I did in Ohio. Maybe more so since I grew up going to Marycliff football games and taking part in the special camps they put on when I was in junior high and high school.

When Coach Reese said he was coming here and offered to bring me with him, making the decision was a no brainer once I heard Piper was coming back here. She’d dreamed of escaping all through high school, so I knew she hated getting dragged home. Helping out her and Coach Reese at the same time while taking advantage of an opportunity to show what kind of leader I can be on the field in a way that Ohio wouldn’t provide seemed like a win all around.

And now that I know about Ben, I’m extra glad I decided to come home. If I hadn’t, I could’ve easily gone my whole life without even knowing he exists.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts.

They’re here.

With my heart racing with anticipation, I cross the room and pull the door open, captivated by Tiffany’s smile. “Hey,” she says.

All I have time to get out is, “Hey,” before Ben barrels into me, wrapping his arms around my legs, his head just low enough that my junk is safe. Barely.

Because he’s the real reason they’re here, I let him claim my attention despite the fact that I want to greet Tiffany with the same amount of enthusiasm Ben has for me. Okay, maybe I don’t want to headbutt her junk, but …Shutting down that train of thought right away.

“Hey, little man!” I say to Ben. Reaching down, I grab him under the armpits and lift him up, tossing him in the air above my head and making him giggle.

“He hasn’t had anyone do that for him in quite a while,” Tiffany muses as she closes the door, a smile in her voice.

“Oh yeah?” Pretending to drop Ben and catching him, setting off another squeal followed by a round of giggles, I set him on the floor and point him in the direction of the living room. “Go check out what’s over there.” As he runs off, I straighten and return my attention to Tiffany.

She’s wearing a green sweater with a low scoop neck that looks soft as a cloud and displays a tantalizing amount of cleavage paired with her black leggings with the subtle leopard print. I’ve seen her in them a few times now. They must be one of her favorites. With the way they show off her ass, they’re one of my favorites too.

“He’s gotten too heavy for me to toss in the air like that,” she continues, claiming a kitchen chair to hold their coats and her magic bag of tricks. “My dad too.” She looks up at me with a warm, happy smile. “He still asks sometimes, so it’s nice that someone can do it.”

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