The next morning I called my attorney, and he put a petition in to the courts to establish paternity. I went to the hospital, got swabbed, and left. Now, I’m just waiting to find out the results.
Yesterday, my mom called to find out when she would see me for Christmas—which really meant she wanted to find out my side of what’s going on. Luckily, we had an away game, so I was able to put off her inquisition temporarily. But at some point I’m going to have to deal with her. There’s no way she’s going back to North Carolina until she gets some answers. My dad has already mentioned them finding a short-term lease here in New York. I’d like to think it’s so they can be near me for moral support, but I know better. I’ve been spending every day at practice or in the gym to keep busy. I need to stay focused. We’re too damn close to becoming champions for my drama to fuck it all up now.
The negative tension between Coach and me has been awkward to say the least, and I was worried it would rub off on the rest of the team, but we made it through our game—winning 24-21. We already clinched a spot in the playoffs, but this game determined if we would have home-field advantage. It was a close game, and it had the commentators talking, questioning if I’m regressing with the new weight and stress on my shoulders. Celeste was right in that regard. The tabloids and gossip rags are all talking, and none of it is projecting me in a positive light.
I was hoping when we returned today, I would come home to a quiet house, but instead, I walk in to the opposite. Groaning when I spot everyone, I consider sneaking back out and heading to Killian’s place, but before I can, Celeste spots me and calls out my name.
“Thanks for letting me know everyone is here, babe.” I glare at my fiancée, and she shoots daggers back at me. Nobody besides Killian has any clue about our pact-slash-fake relationship.
“Of course we’re here!” My mom huffs. “Yesterday was Christmas and you were away. I was thinking we can open gifts. Celeste said your results are back. They came in this morning. Has this woman told you what she wants yet?”
I grab the envelope off the counter and notice it’s been opened. “Really? You guys opened the results for me?”
“We need to know what we’re working with, Nick,” my dad says. “I saw your game yesterday. You can’t let this baby news affect your game, and if you don’t nip this shit in the bud, she’ll be suing you for child support.”
“So, I’m the father?” I ask, pulling the papers out to read them myself.
“Yes,” Celeste answers, zero emotion showing through her rough exterior. “But this doesn’t have to change anything.” She comes over to me and puts her hands on my arms.
“I need to think about all this,” I tell her honestly. Now that I officially know I’m the father, there are a million different thoughts swarming around in my head. It was one thing to consider the possibility, but now it’s fact. I’m someone’s dad.
Not liking my answer, Celeste squeezes my arms. “What is there to think about?”
“A lot, actually,” I say, moving my arms out of her grip.
“Like what?” she presses.
“How about the fact that I have a child with my coach’s daughter, for starters?” That’s not really high on my list of worries, but it’s the safest thought to say out loud.
“That’s hardly a concern,” my dad says. “Your season is almost over, which means so is your contract, and with the way you’ve been playing, every team is going to want you.”
“Like who?” Celeste asks.
“LA for one,” my dad says. This gets Celeste’s attention. I can already hear the ideas forming in her head of moving across the country and away from Olivia. LA isn’t really where Celeste wants to live, but since she sometimes travels there for work, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“I don’t know what the future holds. For all we know, I could end up in Michigan or somewhere.” I name the last place in the world Celeste would want to end up just to fuck with her, and it works. She shudders then glares.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,” she seethes.
“I need to go speak to Liv about the paternity. Now, as my fiancée, do you want to go with me?” I know she won’t want to go, but at least I can say I tried.
“I need to catch my flight soon.”
“Mom, do you want to go with me to meet your grandchild?”
My mom scrunches up her nose. “How about you send me a picture? At that age, all they do is eat and sleep anyway.”