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I hope I don’t have to face Harry Stone today. My attorney told me that he may have already signed the papers and we’ll just be meeting with his attorney today. In my state of mind, I may not be able to keep myself from dick punching Harry if I have to see his arrogant face.
It’s been a year since Mallory came into the salon, starry-eyed over her first date with Chicago’s favorite son—a former NHL star who shocked everyone when he retired at the age of twenty-six to serve in the Army for four years and then returned to Chicago to start his own business.
Neither me or Mal could have imagined she’d be pregnant with his child two months later. That he’d turn his back on her. That she’d be diagnosed with an aggressive metastatic breast cancer at the start of her second trimester. That she’d forgo treatment and have to fight with everything in her just to live long enough to deliver a healthy daughter.
I never would have dreamed, when Mal excitedly told me she was expecting a baby, that I’d be the one raising it. Or that I’d be on the verge of homelessness right now.
Harry Stone deserves a lot more than a dick punch. He deserves to have his dick rot off for what he did to Mal. But if he’ll sign away his parental rights to Avery, I’ll be content with that. Karma can handle the rest.
Chapter Two
Harry
The first thing I notice about my attorney, John Gallagher, is that he has a large corner office, with windows overlooking the city and Lake Michigan in the distance. His premium office better mean he’s worth his premium price.
“Harry Stone, it’s a real pleasure,” he says, grinning as he extends his hand to shake mine. “Come on in and have a seat.”
“Good to meet you, thanks.” I unbutton my suit jacket, take it off and drape it over the leather chair next to the one I’m about to sit down on.
“When I got your call, I had my assistant move some things around on my schedule to make room for you. It’s not every day a hockey legend knocks on your door.”
I shake my head, already knowing what’s coming next. “I’m far from a legend. I only played professionally for four years.”
His eyes widen, disbelief shining through his adoring expression. “You retired at what, twenty-six? You were at the top of your game then. Already had a cup under your belt. And you left to serve your country. Not many men are so noble.”
“It wasn’t noble—I just felt like I had to do it was all.”
“And you got out of the Army, what…five years ago? You ever think about going back to hockey?”
I laugh at the notion. “No, never. I’ll leave that to the young hotshots. I’m thirty-five now. Besides, I love what I do.”
“I saw an article on your company in Chicago Business Monthly. Sounds like you’re doing exceptionally well.”
“I’ve been fortunate.” I clench my hand into a fist and look down for a second. “At least, in business.”
John straightens in his chair and puts on his reading glasses, all business. “Let’s see if we can get this personal matter taken care of. And in case you aren’t already aware, everything discussed in this office is strictly confidential. Even my paralegals sign nondisclosure agreements.”
I nod. “That’s good to know.”
He looks down at the open folder on his desk. “So I know we didn’t have much time to talk last week, but that’s why I asked you to come in early for our meeting today. When you were served with the paperwork last week about signing away your parental rights, was that the first notice you had that the child in question existed?”
I let out a long exhale. “About a year ago, I was seeing a hairstylist. After about two months, she came over one night and told me she thought she was pregnant.” John makes a note on his legal pad. “I told her I’d need a paternity test, but that if it was mine, I’d provide child support.”
John nods, makes another note and looks up at me. “And then?”
I shrug. “Nothing. She left crying and never contacted me again; she wouldn’t even return my calls. I assumed she either wasn’t pregnant or it wasn’t mine. I was fucking floored when I got served with those papers last week.”
“Because you weren’t aware the child existed.”
“No.” My neck and shoulders tighten with agitation. “And I have no idea if she took care of herself when she was pregnant, or if this kid is even mine. It’s bullshit.”
“The first step will be a paternity test,” John says. “We’ll request that today, and if the petitioner doesn’t agree, I’ll get a court order.”
“Who is the petitioner? Winter, or whatever her name is? Why isn’t Mallory the one coming to me about custody?”
