“That’s not what you want,” I interrupted, every muscle in my body locked down tight. “If what you wanted was to co-parent, you would have called when you realized you were pregnant. You would have been standing on that front porch with her after she was born. I would have helped. We could have made the whole co-parenting thing work, but instead, you left my daughter on my porch and hoped I’d find her. You had every available chance to come forward, but you didn’t. So what the fuck do you actually want, Tiffany? Because there’s zero chance you’re getting any custody of Skye without a hell of a fight. She’s mine.”
“Let me in and I’ll tell you.”
It always came down to money, didn’t it?
Wrap it up. That was the first piece of advice I’d gotten from the coaching staff when I’d committed to the University of Minnesota, and again when I’d signed with L.A. Guys who made millions were targets for the kind of women who liked fat child support checks.
I’d broken the cardinal rule of professional sports, and now I sat across Silas’s conference table from the consequences of my actions.
It had taken twenty-four hours to get the paperwork in order, but now we were all here: me and Houston Bowman—Asher’s personal attorney—on one side of the table, and Justine Tiffany Miller and the attorney Asher had provided for her on the other.
Asher himself was leaned up against his desk, watching with a carefully blank face as Houston handed out a set of papers in triplicate.
With just a few signatures—and a shit ton of money, Tiffany would be out of our lives.
Fuck, I wanted Fiona here. I wanted to know what she thought about all this. I wanted her advice, her opinion. I just wanted her. But after the first dozen calls and texts had gone unanswered, I’d gotten the fucking point.
Fiona didn’t want to be here.
“As we went over on the phone, this is a one-time offer,” Houston said with that austere professionalism only attorneys were capable of. “The settlement amount is listed here,” he tapped on the bold-typed figure on the first page. “And covers what was mutually agreed upon as twelve months of child-support. Nine for your pregnancy, and three for the minor’s first three months of life.”
The minor was Skye Miller. Tiffany hadn’t given Skye my last name, which was one of the first things I’d remedy once this was over. My daughter sure as hell wasn’t going to carry the name of a mother who had never wanted her and only used her for financial gain. Fuck that noise.
“Where is she now?” Tiffany asked through her perfectly lined lips. “Skye?”
My first instinct was to mouth off and tell her Skye’s location was none of her fucking business, but I wasn’t about to blow this deal by letting my temper get the best of me.
“In a friend’s office down the hall,” I answered. “Why? Would you like to say goodbye to her?” Skye was in Langley’s office with Mia, Evie, Maxim, and half the Reaper team standing guard.
Evie had saved my ass during the game last night, and there was only God to thank for the coincidence that we’d been playing at home this week. I couldn’t have gotten on a plane with all this shit going on. But what really floored me? Fiona had been the one to call Evie and ask for help. She might be pissed as hell at me, but she still managed to show up for Skye.
Tiffany tilted her head as if giving the idea some thought. “Would you let me?”
Would you charge me for the privilege?
“Yes,” I ground out.
“Really?” She tapped her pen against her chin.
“Really.” I shifted in my chair and did my best not to glare at the mother of my daughter.
“Why?”
I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair in agitation. “Because one day Skye will ask about this moment, Tiffany. She’ll ask about her mother. She’ll want to know why you walked away and why I let you. She’ll probably think she did something wrong, something to deserve the hot fucking mess her first seven months were, and why she wasn’t enough to get you to stick around.”
Tiffany paled.
“And it’s my job to make sure she knows that this,” I gestured to the paperwork, “had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you and your choices. I will have to look her in the eye and tell her that I offered you every reasonable arrangement and the chance to stay in her life, and you chose money.” I hated that word and everything it represented. “And I’ll have to do it in a way that doesn’t make you out to be a total monster just to make her feel better about where she comes from. But you bet your ass the one thing I’ll never do is lie to my daughter, Tiffany. So yes, if you want to say goodbye to her, then you absolutely can, because I’ll never be the one who cut her off from you. You’re choosing to do that all on your own and that’s on you.”