Rage

  They brought Clair’s breakfast in, and AJ sat and chatted with all of them for a while. As expected, Clair wasted no time getting caught up on what she’d missed with the team, stats, and standings. They also spoke more about the upcoming playoffs, strategies, etc. It was so good to see how well she was doing.

  Such an overwhelming relief.

  Maybe now AJ could get some sleep. He’d hardly slept since this all went down, and it’d begun to affect his game. He was there for a couple of hours until Clair announced she needed to use the potty. Addison had told AJ that a couple of days prior when Clair had been coherent enough to realize she was wearing a diaper, even without being able to talk as much as she was doing now, she made it clear she did not want to be in a diaper. She’d been getting up and using the potty in her room ever since.

  On that note, as much as he would’ve liked to stay longer, AJ thought he’d give them the privacy she needed. He had a plane to catch and some much-needed sleep to catch up with anyway.

  Clair’s grandma offered to help Clair to the potty so Addison could walk AJ out. They were still afraid Clair might be too dizzy or weak to walk on her own. They stepped out into the hallway where, as soon as the door closed behind them, AJ took her into another crushing embrace. “Thank God,” he whispered, kissing her head.

  Like when he first arrived, she seemed reluctant to give into the embrace completely, but then she did, hugging him tightly. When he finally pulled away and glanced down at her, her eyes glistened again. “I’ve no doubt,” she said, shaking her head, “that seeing you was the motivation it took to get her talking the way she is now.”

  AJ smiled. “You heard her.” He laughed softly. “She wasn’t worried at all. She knew it was just a matter of time.” He let his head fall back, feeling the emotion and stress drain from his body. “I’m just so glad the doctor said she’s looking good and this is almost over.”

  She shook her head adamantly. “That’s just it, AJ. It’s not over. It’ll never be over. This was just a devastating reminder of how not over this is and that I can never let my guard down again. It’s why—”

  “First of all,” he said, pulling her back to him when she attempted to pull away. “You didn’t let your guard down. We both know whose fault this was, and trust me, now that I know . . .” He stopped when she began shaking her head again. “Look. I’ll respect your wishes and step back,” he said, peering at her with purpose, “for now.”

  Addison shook her head again, and he took a deep breath, willing himself to not get too worked up. “Baby, you gotta know there is no way I’m just walking away from you guys. I understand you need time. You just went through something no parent should ever have to. I know you’re terrified and I don’t blame you. I am too. But you did nothing wrong. You made it absolutely clear how dangerous her allergies are. I’m the idiot who chose to believe maybe you were just being overprotective. Trust me. I will live to regret it, and after everything that’s happened, you know me and how much I care about you and that little girl. I swear to you it will never happen again.”

  She stared at him, brows pinched, still appearing unsure, so he leaned in and kissed her nose then kissed her softly on the lips. “I don’t want you thinking or worrying about what should or shouldn’t happen with us. Focus on her. I’ll wait as long as I have to and do whatever it takes. I’m just letting you know right now you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  This time she took a deep breath, but utter uncertainty lingered in her eyes. At least, it wasn’t a flat-out no. He’d take it. He said his final good-bye and kissed her one last time, this time a little longer than just a soft peck. She let him, but he didn’t want to push, so he forced himself to pull away.

  Breathing in deep again, he let his head fall onto backseat of the Town Car that was bringing him straight back to the airport. Things weren’t settled yet, but this was a definite positive turn. Clair was talking and better now, and Addison hadn’t dismissed him with such finality again. It was a start.

  Chapter 25

  Addison

  One of the other things Addison had been so afraid of when she decided to let Clair in on her relationship with AJ was her being hurt. Never in all of the short seven years of her little girl’s life had she seen such sadness in her eyes. Addison knew she’d be disappointed but nothing like this.

  “It’s because you still blame him, isn’t it?”

  “No, honey,” Addison said, bringing her arm around Clair’s shoulder and pulling her to her. “I don’t blame anyone but myself. As your mother, I should’ve been more alert, more careful, but it’s not why AJ and I broke up,” she lied, glancing away because Clair’s sad eyes were staring at her. “I just need to focus on you and your health right now. Work is also getting really busy, and I won’t have time for a social life for a while.”

  They were in Clair’s bedroom, where Addison had sat down next to her on her bed, to do what she’d been dreading to do: explain why she and AJ were going to be just friends now. Just as she’d promised her from the beginning, she said, no matter what happened between Addison and AJ, he’d still be Clair’s best buddy. Addison could only pray that would be the case. The more she thought about giving into the temptation of continuing what she had with AJ, the more it scared her. AJ was a huge distraction, and she feared that once the fear lessened, as it had begun to when she’d been so caught up with him, she might slip again.

  Nothing was worth reliving what she’d gone through when she wasn’t sure if Clair was going to make it. Nothing. Addison couldn’t even chance that something like that might happen again. Seeing AJ and feeling his arms and lips on her when she’d missed him so much had, momentarily, made her forget the suicidal thoughts that’d actually crossed her mind when, for a few horrific moments, she thought Clair was gone. She shook her head, feeling every hair on her body stand as the ugly memory resurfaced. Never again.

  “What about when things slow down at your work? Will you and AJ get back together then?”

  Addison pressed her lips together. She refused to give Clair false hope. “I don’t know, honey. That’s a big if. Work just seems to be getting busier and busier. It wouldn’t be fair to AJ, but like I said, we’ll still be friends.”

  Reluctantly, Clair seemed to accept the confirmation of her suspicions. Today was the second day her papa and AJ were back in town for their home stand. Addison hadn’t attended either game, and AJ hadn’t come by like he normally did when he was in town and they were still together. She’d told Clair she had too much work to catch up on, so Clair had gone to the games with her grandparents. Today was also the first time Addison had allowed herself to watch a few minutes of one of AJ’s games on television, and she’d completely choked up at the sight of him.

  Because of who he was and whose granddaughter Clair was, like when Isaiah had been hurt, Clair’s near fatal allergic reaction received national attention. It’d been on the news those whole first terrifying days. The news vans had lined up outside the hospital, likely waiting to be the first to report she’d passed.

  There was no way AJ would know, and if he did, she was certain he would’ve said something, but Fred had been calling Addison nonstop since the news broke. She’d been so caught up with Clair at the hospital she hadn’t bothered to answer his calls or return his messages. It wasn’t until he threatened to show up at the hospital to see his daughter that she’d finally called him back.

  She explained to him what had happened. In no way did she make it sound like it was AJ’s fault or that she blamed him. Yet the very next day a reporter outside the stadium in Baltimore asked AJ if it was true he was to blame for Clair’s allergic reaction. Impressively, AJ had kept his cool, ignoring the question until the reporter followed up by asking him if he planned on adopting Clair if she made it. AJ had reacted to the tactless comment as only he could. They had to pull him off the guy whom he nearly choked with one hand.

  That, of course, made the headlines as well. The footage of
it had been played over and over. Fred assured Addison he hadn’t said anything to anyone about AJ being the one who’d shared his possibly contaminated ice cream with Clair, but she knew better. Fred wasn’t nearly as upset about what happened to Clair as he was that AJ was being billed as her stepdad in some reports. Addison had smiled bittersweetly while listening to one radio’s broadcast announcing they’d have an update on AJ Romero’s stepdaughter after the commercial break. But like the reporter who questioned AJ, speculation ran rampant that perhaps AJ would be adopting her.

  As usual, it was all Fred cared about. He was suspicious that maybe there was some truth to the reports. He was still talking about moving out to California, which worried Addison. But worse yet, he’d already made clear in not so many words that he wouldn’t be signing off his rights to Clair so that AJ could adopt her. Addison had assured him the topic had never once been discussed. She’d been so worried he might start with other threats that she’d let him in on something else: that she and AJ were no longer romantically involved.

  Instead of that lessening the calls and texts from him like she’d hoped, he seemed to be getting more relentless. Though she didn’t answer or respond to them all, she did want to stay on his good side, so she responded every now and again. Today she’d responded to a message saying it was his travel day and he’d be in town. He wanted to see her. He said he needed to discuss something he thought would be better if they discussed in person. Clair had been an afterthought as usual.

  “Maybe you could bring Clair too, and we can finally formally meet.”

  Out of the question.

  Addison was still holding out hope that it would never be necessary. For that reason, she agreed to meet him alone, using Clair’s still delicate condition as an excuse for why she couldn’t come along.

  They were meeting at Lou and Mickey’s again. It just felt safe for the same reasons she’d explained to AJ when she’d had to come clean about meeting him the first time. It was the only good thing about not being with AJ anymore. She didn’t have to feel guilty about sneaking around, nor did she have to think about having that dreadful conversation with him again. The promise was that she’d keep him in the know if she planned on letting Fred into Clair’s life. So far it didn’t appear she’d need to. It’s why she was here tonight in hopes of negotiating.

  The waitress had just dropped off her tea when Fred arrived. Addison had made her concern of being spotted very clear on the phone before meeting him. They were in one of the furthest-to-the-back and darkest booths in the place. She also made sure to get there earlier than she said she would so there’d be no danger of being seen arriving together. It had nothing to do with her not wanting this to get back to AJ.

  Since the news broke about Clair being rushed to the hospital, the speculation of who her father might be started up again. It was another thing that had rubbed Fred the wrong way. AJ had since answered the question everyone was asking. His statement had been, “If that amazing little girl was my daughter, I’d be an idiot to keep it to myself. I’d want the whole world to know it.”

  Fred had taken it as a jab. “That asshole’s calling me out,” he’d said in an angry message he’d left Addison.

  Again, Addison had to scramble to assure him that wasn’t the case. He also suspected that AJ knew who he was. Addison assured him with all certainty that that wasn’t true either. Still, it was beginning to feel like she was losing the battle to have Fred keep his identity under wraps. She was hoping tonight she could regain some ground.

  She glanced up at him and smiled as genuinely as she could. The evening was chilly and he wore a beanie, but she was sure it wasn’t because he was cold. It wasn’t that cold yet. He’d also dressed down in a black jeans and a black tight T-shirt. She’d asked him to be as inconspicuous as possible and, thankfully, he’d obliged.

  The man wasn’t bad-looking by any means. Admittedly, aside from him being an up-and-coming ballplayer, it’d been initially what had attracted her to him. He’d only grown into his own over the years, filling out very nicely. She was sure it was why he’d worn the T-shirt that showed off every bit of his impressive physique.

  He sat across from her and ordered a gin and tonic, making sure, as usual, it was top-shelf gin. “You look amazing,” he said as soon as the waitress walked away.

  Addison took an extra-slow sip of her tea in lieu of a thank you. She’d dressed just as inconspicuously but purposely dressed down as much as she could in jeans and an old baseball T-shirt with her hair in a ponytail and baseball cap. There was nothing amazing about the way she looked tonight, and they both knew it.

  “Can you please explain what it is you need to discuss with me that can’t be done over the phone?”

  “There’s something I wanna show you, but I thought we could have a few drinks and talk a little first.”

  “This is all I’m drinking,” she said, pointing at her cup of tea.

  “That’s fine.”

  “It’s not what I’m here for, Fred. I’m not here to socialize. You said you needed to talk to me. The only thing you and I have in common is Clair. She’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Why do you have to be like that?” he asked, sitting back in his seat and thanking the waitress when she dropped off his drink. “We have a kid together—”

  Addison shushed him, glancing around completely annoyed. Fred laughed, picking up his drink. “You really think you’re gonna be able to keep my identity a secret forever?”

  Feeling the panic sear through her, she toned down the annoyance in her words. “I’ve managed to this long, haven’t I? As long as you don’t say anything, no one will ever have to know. It’s what you’ve always wanted too, right? I’m not trying to be a bitch or anything. I just have a lot of work I need to get back to, and I need to be home for Clair. She’s still not a hundred percent, and I don’t like leaving her for too long.”

  “All I’m saying is,” Fred said, sitting up, “can’t we just try being friends. Try being social? Don’t you remember you did like me once upon a time?”

  He smiled at her, tilting his head sideways, the twinkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way he used to look at her so long ago. It was probably something that still worked for him with the girls, but at the moment, all Addison felt for him was disgust. Didn’t he get it? Clair was her world. She just mentioned needing to get back to her, and he still had yet to ask her so much as how Clair was doing. He was doing it again, showing exactly what the only thing he was interested in was. He’d use Clair to get Addison to agree to things like this—being here with him now—agreeing to be friends. Yet, he was too stupid to realize if he showed even an iota of interest in the most important thing in her life, his daughter, that maybe he’d have a better chance of getting in her good graces. Instead, it only made her hate him more and remind her how special AJ was.

  She stared at him, desperately trying to squelch the temptation to tell him to go to hell. “I don’t have time for a social life. I’m sorry. It’s why I broke things off with AJ. Clair requires my full attention.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, taking another sip of his drink, then smiled. “But being that I am her father, it seems it would only be fair that I help alleviate some of that burden you’ve been carrying all this time on your own. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your life, Addi.”

  Addison glared at him, trying desperately to refrain from throwing her tea in his face. How dare he call himself a father! And how dare he refer to Clair as a burden! He knew nothing about sacrifice. He was only after one thing and they both knew it. Even then, a part of her questioned whether or not it was his inflated ego behind his newfound desire to be a part of their lives.

  Before she could calm herself enough to say something less abrasive than what she was thinking, he put his drink down and laid his arm down on the table palm up.

  “Look,” he said, with a smug smile.

  Addison glanced down at the heart tattoo on the inside of his lower arm.
Her eyes widened when she saw the name inside the heart with angel wings: Clair.

  “It’s my tribute to my little girl.”

  Not only was his calling Clair his little girl as ridiculous as his calling himself a father, it felt contrived. The tattoo looked new. The skin around it was still bright pink. The placement of it was so that it’d be very visible not just now but when he’d be on the field.

  “Why would you do that?” she asked, unable to pull her eyes away from it, her heart thudding in her chest.

  “Why not?” he said, looking back down at it. “Despite what you may think, these past few days have been very distressing for me. Just when I’d decided I wanted to be a part of her life, she was close to dying. I felt like I needed to do something.”

  “You haven’t even asked me how she’s doing today.”

  “I was going to,” he said, glancing up at her, obviously surprised at the change in her now-hardened tone. “We just got into other stuff, but I was getting there. How is she?”

  “You don’t care,” she said, shaking her head, feeling like an idiot for even being there now.

  “Yes, I—”

  “You’ve never cared. This is just about you and your fucking ego. You don’t care about me either. You just can’t stand the thought of me being with someone else and that AJ got all the sympathy and credit for being Clair’s dad. He’s been more of a dad to her in the past couple of months than you have her entire life. And now you go and do that”—she pointed at the offensive tattoo—“because you’re just hoping someone notices it. Someone’ll put two and two together just because you can’t stand feeling left out.”

  Addison grabbed her purse and began to slide out of the booth. She couldn’t sit there another minute and listen to even one more word out of this idiot’s mouth.

  “Addi,” he said, sliding out of his side.

  “You disgust me,” she said, flinging her purse on her shoulder as he pulled out a twenty, threw it on the table, and rushed after her. “I’ve just gone through the worst experience of my life,” she said as she rushed through the thankfully near empty restaurant, “and all you could think of was why AJ was getting all the attention.”