Page 18 of Shattered Dreams

“Right,” I say, clearing my throat. “Pizza.”

Andre hurries out of the bedroom, leaving me alone and wondering what the fuck just happened. I don’t know how to explain it, except that it felt intense. Different. Almost like he wanted to kiss me or something, even though that doesn’t make any sense and is completely off base. It’s probably just stress. Stress does weird things to people.

I hear the door shut downstairs, so I know he’s got the pizza. I shake off the weirdness as best I can and let it go. I’m sure it won’t happen again.

I slowly walk down the steps, taking in the sight of the house with its fresh furniture, bright and clean. Beautiful and full of possibility. There’s a comfort here that can’t be denied.

I find Andre on the couch, the box of pizza and paper plates on the large coffee table in front of it. For a minute, I just observe him as he sits there, seemingly lost in thought. I find my spot beside him and he gets up.

“Want a beer?” he asks, and immediately I relax.

I nod. “Yeah, sure.”

Andre comes back and hands me a cold bottle, and I take it from him, his fingers brushing mine lightly. I pop the cap and take a sip, sitting back on the couch. Andre does the same. For a moment, we just sit there, the two of us, side by side, arms brushing against one another comfortably before he grabs a paper plate and puts two pieces of pizza on it. He says nothing as I grab my slice from his, even though we both know I could get my own. I swear I feel like I’m home. But this place isn’t my home.

It’s Andre’s. This is his life, not mine.

But for just a little while, as we sit on his couch and wait for his parents and our kids to get back, I let myself pretend it is.

We sit there in companionable silence, eating, drinking, until the sound of footsteps and laughter come barreling through the door.

It’s nearing eight by the time we leave. Maddox rubs his eyes as Andre walks us out onto the porch, carrying a passed out Rylee in his arms. I know she’s not the only one who’s going to sleep well tonight, judging by my reciprocated yawn.

“Thanks again,” Dre says, his voice low and smooth.

“You don’t have to thank me,” I say with a smirk. “What are friends for, right?”

Dre sways back and forth on the porch, the lantern lights casting a soft glow on him and his daughter.

“Right,” he says, his smile echoing the tiredness I feel as he rubs Rylee’s back slowly. I can’t help but smile.

“Good night, Andre.” I say, guiding my kid towards the car.

Chapter Seven

Andre

Rylee and I fall into an easy routine. Summer is here, and we keep ourselves busy by going to the park, having picnics, and swimming. It’s hard to believe she’ll be starting school in less than two months and that her mother isn’t here to see it. I only hope that I will be enough for her in all the ways she needs during this huge change.

I try not to worry about it too much because Victoria would hate that. She wouldn’t want me moping and miserable, but I can’t help that I miss her and the way our life was when she was around.

Yes, I’ve been a father for five years, ever since Rylee was born, but my job had me away a lot. I don’t know what it’s like to raise a kid full time, and I’m only just learning what it means—since we moved into our home, because before that, I had my parents to help me.

My parents come by a few nights a week to have dinner with us and they have sleepovers with Rylee every Friday night. My mother and her watch “girl” movies together and do “girl” things like their nails and hair.

It’s sweet.

I hate that Rylee’s mother is gone, but I’m glad that she’s building a relationship with her grandmother, something she didn’t have before because we lived across the country. Now we’re here and life is different. Rylee seems to be adjusting just fine. She gets sad, like I do, but for the most part, she’s doing all right.

I’m getting ready to drop her off at my parents’ house, since it’s Friday. Tonight, they’re going to work on Rylee’s braiding technique and paint their nails pink with little suns on them for summertime. My mother also promised to bring her shopping in the morning for some new summer dresses before they go out for lunch.

Every Friday since this has been going on, I’ve spent it alone, just trying to catch my breath for a minute. Tonight, though, I made plans with Paul because I need to get out of the house, and I can’t remember the last time the two of us did something that was just the two of us. I’m going stir-crazy, and it’s about time I make a decision about my job. I need to tell them I’m quitting.

After Victoria’s death, I took an immediate leave with no return date. They’ve started to nag me for an answer, and I keep saying I need more time. But that’ll only get me so far. If I tell them I need to quit, it may look better for me later on—if I ever decide to go back.

Coaching wasn’t what I wanted to do for my adult career—I wanted to play. It’s what I’ve done since I was little. But it didn’t work out that way, and I don’t hate my job.

I just can’t do it right now. I need something more low-key. Something easier. Something closer. This is my home now. I’m Rylee’s sole provider, and I need to stay right here.