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“Lonely,” he says without missing a beat.
I laugh. “Should I have called your cell phone at two in the morning? You could’ve done the night feedings with me.”
He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he frowns. “I’m sorry.”
“Damon! Stop it. I’m only kidding. What’s wrong with you? It’s your job, you have to go to training camp. How are you ever going to get through the season?”
I don’t know much about professional football schedules, but I have to think they’re demanding. For sure he’ll be out of town for half his games, and although he doesn’t play on Thanksgiving this year, he plays on Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. His only week off is the first week of December.
It’s ridiculous that I know his schedule better than he probably does.
He looks at Clover again, and God, the love in his eyes is so intense. I’m not sure I ever would’ve imagined Damon Siska could love so hard.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna do it. It was hard being away from you guys. Maybe I should’ve asked you to bring her down, but that’s a long drive, and I felt bad.”
“I would have. My mom and dad could’ve come.” In truth, I figured he wanted to do his own thing. Wanted to be free of the handcuffs our lifestyle put on him. Not that I thought he was out partying and sleeping with people—and even if he did, I have no say in that—but I’m surprised to hear how much being away from us has affected him. He put on a brave face whenever he called us from training camp.
“Yeah,” he says, sounding lost somewhere in his mind.
“Talk to me. We’re in this together,” I say.
“First, I think she needs changing.” He moves his head to the side to breathe.
“Yeah, for such a little thing, she sure can make a poop.” I grab the diaper bag, but he places his hand over mine.
“There’s something I want to show you.” He stands and leads me to a room I wasn’t in the night I was here. His bedroom and kitchen counter were the main spots I remember from that night.
“What is it?”
When we reach the door, he turns to face me. “I wanted to wait until later, but I can’t. I’m just not the type of guy who can sit on something for days and hide it to make it some big thing.”
I’m so confused, but I follow him into the room. He flicks on the light, and there’s a queen-sized bed in one corner and a crib in the other with a changing table.
“This is beautiful,” I say, my heart cracking. It only makes it more real that Clover won’t spend all of her time with me. She’s going to go back and forth between us at some point.
“I had Mom’s designer do it while I was at camp. I figured Clover needed to have a place here too.”
“Definitely.” My voice trembles, and I hope he didn’t hear it.
He takes the baby over to the changing table and undresses her to change her diaper. I’m not sure if he watched a YouTube video or what, but the man can change her better than me, which irritates me to no end. I’ll give Damon one thing—as soon as he finds something to be a challenge, he does whatever he has to in order to conquer it.
“So, I was talking to my GM, Ronnie Michaels, and we were chatting about how I won’t be as available to you during the season.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. Here we go. The closet is partially open, and I see that it’s full of clothes for Clover. I rise and walk over. “Yeah.”
There’s no way he’s going to ask for partial custody, right? I didn’t think we were at this point yet, although I guess we should be.
He’s your one-night stand, not your boyfriend. Of course we’re here.
I watch as he picks her up off the changing table. She always looks so much smaller when he holds her against his big body. I turn back to the closet, sliding the clothes carefully hung up on hangers across the bar.
“That’s my mom’s doing.”
He sounds annoyed, but how could he be? Every item in here is probably from an upscale store I could never afford. Clover will be dressed in Target with me and a brand I probably can’t even pronounce when she’s with Damon. I’m sure the press will have something to say about that.
“It’s all really nice,” I say.
“Why would you put a baby in half that shit? I mean, she needs cotton on her skin.” He looks at Clover and morphs into his baby voice. “Right, sweetie? Nice, soft cotton, not some itchy fabric.”
