“Damn…going soft on me.” Killian laughs.
“Shut the hell up. Now watch this fucking movie with me or leave.”
“Fine…but after your fairytale shit doesn’t work, we’re watching Daddy’s Home.”
We watch the movie, and I take notes. Here’s what I’ve learned about fairytales through Sleeping Beauty:
The princess is beautiful yet helpless—Olivia isn’t helpless.
There’s an evil bitch who—like Killian mentioned—fucks shit up—kind of reminds me of my mom.
The parents send Aurora away—which is nothing like Olivia’s life—unless you count her leaving to Paris after her mom died.
There’s a whole lot of singing—I wonder if Olivia can sing, and I hope she doesn’t want me to.
Princess Aurora sees the prince and falls in love with him after they dance together—I can handle that.
She’s being forced to marry the guy she doesn’t love—Olivia would never do shit she doesn’t want to do.
She pricks her finger on a needle and passes out—fucking needles! Nothing good comes from those fuckers.
The prince does all the hard work, defeating the evil bitch and winning the battle—I need to convince Olivia to let me do some of the work.
The prince saves the day by kissing the princess, and they live happily-ever-after—I got this shit.
Now, I don’t know anything about the other fairytales, but from what I gathered while watching that one, Olivia wants me to show her I can be her Prince Charming. The problem is, like in football, a quarterback is only as good as his receiver. I can throw perfect passes all day, but if I don’t have someone there to catch the ball, it’s pointless, which is why Olivia and I need to talk. I need to find out if she’s going to be a team player or if I’ll be throwing incomplete passes.
I’m about to head out the door when my phone rings. I see it’s my attorney, Dylan Blake, calling. Dylan is Killian’s brother and a sports attorney. He doesn’t usually do family law, but he’s familiar with it, and he’s the only person I trust to handle this shit with Olivia.
“Hey, Dylan. How’s it going?”
“Good. I just wanted to let you know Ms. Harper responded.” Shit…I completely forgot about the petition I put in for joint custody.
“And…?”
“She countered. She wants legal custody, giving you visitation. You had requested fifty-fifty joint. This would mean sixty-forty with her legally being allowed to make all final decisions.”
“What about the child support?”
“She’s okay with it, but she did make a few revisions. All expenses are split down the middle including health insurance and educational expenses.”
“She’s something else…” I laugh to myself.
“She had to submit her bank information to the courts. Are you aware this woman could probably buy the team you’re playing for?”
I chuckle. I knew she had money, but I didn’t know she had that much. The brownstone she’s living in has to be worth a few million, but I kind of assumed her dad might be helping her out. Apparently I was wrong. “She’s definitely not the helpless princess,” I say more to myself than to my attorney.
“What?”
“Nothing…go ahead and approve her request. I agree to all of the above.”
After practice, I get to Olivia’s place, and she lets me in. “I wasn’t sure if you were still coming over.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I walk in behind her.
“Well, my attorney called and said you approved the custody agreement. Today is Monday, and your days are Tuesday and Thursday.”
“I leave tomorrow to go to Denver for the Super Bowl.” And then an idea forms. “Why don’t you and little man join me?”
“Umm…I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” A beeping noise comes from the kitchen, and she runs that way, pulling a pan of brownies out of the oven. The house smells like a bakery, and my stomach rumbles.
She places the pan onto a rack of some sort, then goes about cutting up another pan of brownies into small squares and placing them on a plate. I grab one and pop it into my mouth. They’re cool, so they must’ve been sitting there for a little bit. The brownie practically melts in my mouth. “Jesus, woman. That’s some good shit.” I grab one more.
“Thanks! Are you umm…are you taking…” She gulps loudly, looking everywhere but at me. “Are you taking Reed with you today?” She asks this same question every time I come over, and every time I make up some lame excuse as to why I’m just going to chill here.
“Nah…like you said, it’s not my day. I’ll just hang out here if it’s okay with you.” I move closer to her, and she backs up slightly. She has a spatula of brownie batter in her hand, and she nibbles down on the plastic nervously.
She moves the spatula from her mouth, leaving a bit of batter behind. “Yeah…that’s fine. I imagine we’ll have to work around your football schedule.”