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But as I read over these accounts, all I find myself thinking about is Liam, and I’m reminded as to why I have my reservations about Brady in the first place. He was, and still is, according to this interview, living an outrageous lifestyle and not giving it a second thought.
How can that be suitable for Liam? Even if he looks adorable playing with and taking care of him—and despite him being the father, his lifestyle is not conducive for raising a child.
I turn the page, and a timeline stretches across the two pages. Rather than highlighting the major points in his career, it outlines his extracurricular affairs—his hook-ups, high-profile scandals, and extravagant spending.
It’s sad to see his lifestyle overshadowing the amazing skills he has as a quarterback. Even if therearesporadic photos of him related to his career—him on the field practicing and running drills and in the weight room bantering with his teammates, they all look like simple background props, not the main focus.
It’s amazing how different he seems around me, though. So opposite to what this article depicts. I’m finding it hard to reconcile the interview with my feelings for—and my time with— him.
And although I hate to admit it, it’s starting to hurt.
Reading these accounts over and over again in numerical and heightened detail makes me feel sick.
Shaking my head, I stand up and take the magazine with me to the kitchen counter and place my now cold tea in the sink. I’m hoping that in a different position, I’ll be able to refocus my attention and stifle these uncomfortable feelings.
I continue to read, and Brady boasts about the vacations he’s taken and the trouble he’s gotten into. I become more exasperated when he mentions the one time he had a run-in with the French police for being caught pants-less in the park in front of the Eiffel Tower.
He’s quoted:“What can I say? The moment got away from me. A beautiful woman, a romantic setting. It was bound to happen. Never underestimate what money and some charm can do for you, though. I’ve learned that can get you in and out of places rather easily.”
He sounds like such an ass. Someone I’d never see myself falling for. A man not qualified to be a father, especially a father to Liam.
And yet I have. And yet he is.
It makes everything about this so much harder. I know who and what he is, and I’m still here reeling after him.
As I finish the interview, my eyes latch onto the journalist’s last question:“So, do you think you’ll see yourself settling down soon, with a wife and a few little Bradys running around?”
I take a deep breath in, and my body stills, my anxiety coiling around me like a snake smothering its prey. I didn’t know that I wanted to know the answer to this question, but now Ihaveto know. His answer will steer me one way or the other—should I tell him or not?
I can feel the pressure settling onto my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The journalist describes:“Laughing almost too loudly, Brady responds, ‘That life—a wife, a white-picket fence, and 2.5 kids—has never and will never be in my cards. I never want to settle down, and I for damn sure never want children. There is too much life to live to be tied down.’”
I read and re-read his answer, wanting the letters to re-scramble into something I can swallow easily. But they don’t—they remain permanently printed.
I clutch onto the magazine, and a tear falls down my cheek. The realization hits me like a freight train.
If I do tell Brady, he’ll never accept Liam as his own—and I can’t do that to Liam.
