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Shit! Shit! Shit!
What the hell was I thinking? I’ve been in that dressing room way too long. We’re supposed to be back at the hotel, yet, here I am. Ten minutes had somehow turned into over forty-five, and it wasn’t until I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket that I cut off the conversation I’d been engrossed in with the coach and Joshua. The message was from a number I didn’t recognize, but she’d stated in the text that it was Faith, and that she had the kids at the hotel. Darcy must’ve given her my number.
After that, I hailed down a taxi and headed straight to the Four Seasons, knowing I’d just made a grave mistake.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I shake my head. I’ve completely lost my mind. I must have. First, their nanny leaves them, and now I’m taking my sweet fucking time picking them up from the hands of complete fucking strangers. Complete strangers that managed to get them back to the hotel.
Hell, they’re doing a better job as a parent than I am.
I don’t deserve those kids.
What the hell is wrong with me?
As soon as I get to the hotel, I fly out of the taxi. I don’t even look at the meter as I toss the driver a fifty-dollar bill. The driver’s cheering for me, saying that he supports his home team, but he loves the way I play.
I ignore him, running toward the elevator as if my life depends on it. My head pounds out of control as the guilt of abandoning my kids weighs heavily on my mind. I’m no better than Isobel.
I use the key to get into the suite.
Faith is sitting on the couch as if everything’s under control. I sigh, but then, I don’t know how she got into the room. She’s reading a magazine from the lobby with only the light coming from a dim wall sconce.
She stands up, tossing the magazine onto the couch, and her long dark hair follows her as if floating in the air. I never noticed that about her, that her hair’s so long. She turns on the brighter overhead light and whispers to me. “Good of you to show up. I put the kids in their PJs. They’re sleeping.”
“Great. Thanks for doing that.” I slump down on the sofa. “I…” I trail off, not knowing where to begin.
“Is that all you have to say? I looked after your kids so you could play that game. And judging by the hands on the clock, so you could attend the afterparty, too.”
What the fuck? She’s got every right to be angry, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy hearing it from her lips.
One minute she’s calm, and the next she’s face to face with me, her hands on her hips.
“You don’t even know me,” she reminds me. “I could be a serial killer or something, and you just left your kids with me.”
It sounds weak, but I say, “It wasn’t my fault. Their nanny just dumped them. How the hell was I supposed to know that I didn’t have a sitter for the game?” I stand up straight, trying to gain some composure, but my stomach is doing somersaults. I feel fucking sick.
She’s right.
“When you found out, you didn’t exactly try and sort it out. You happily left them with me.”
I point to her, but then head toward the bathroom. “I’m seriously going to be sick.”
I rush into the bathroom, unable to stop it, and she shouts out while heading to the door, “So am I!”
Then, she slams the door.
What the fuck just happened? One minute, she’s happily helping me out, then the next she’s pissed, reprimanding me like a goddamn child. I mean, I know why she’s pissed, but damn it, I didn’t even get a formal apology out.
This is why I’m single. I could never figure out Hayley’s moods when we were married, and I have no intention of going down that road again.
The contents in my stomach pour out of me. The headache I had a minute ago subsides, and I feel a little better once I clean up and peek in on the kids, who, just like Faith said, were safely tucked in bed, sleeping soundly.
No thanks to me.
I head to the shower, feeling physically better seeing the kids are okay, but feeling mentally worse about the way I parted with Faith. I didn’t even say thank you.
I’m an asshole, and I’m definitely not winning any Father Of The Year awards.
