Page 3 of Power Play

“I’m staying in a hotel for a few days,” she says. “I know it might take some time for the paternity test results to come through and for you to trust me, so if you want, I can take care of Emmy until you can find a nanny. But eventually…”

Presuming this baby is mine, I’ll have to step up. I’ll have to be her father.

Fuck. I’m in over my head here.

Reaching into my pocket, I grab my phone and then scroll through my contacts. I should probably call McKittrick, my former captain, or maybe even Coach. I should definitely call my agent.

Instead, I dial the only person who can fix this.

“What’s wrong?” Vanessa Larsson asks as soon as the call connects.

“Why do you presume something is wrong?” Although I try to tease her, play it off like everything is fine, my voice cracks on the last word. After all, if everything were fine, I wouldn’t be calling her.

“Cut the shit, Gonzo.” A hint of fondness colors her tone beneath her no-bullshit attitude.

“Can you come to my place? Like… now?”

The team’s logistics coordinator sighs. “I’m on my way.”

On the couch, Riley raises her eyebrows. “So you believe me?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” I admit. “I don’t know you, and I don’t remember your sister. I’m sorry for that, I’m sure she was a lovely person, but⁠—”

“She was a bitch,” she says with a laugh. “A little rough around the edges, but given the hand she was dealt, she made the most of her life. We were sisters in everything but blood, and I loved her.” Riley’s face falls. “But because we’re not related, I have no legal claim to Emmy. I can’t put her on my health insurance, can’t take her to the doctor…”

“That’s her full name? Emmy?”

“Emilia Riley Matthews.” A proud smile curves her lips, the first sign of genuine happiness.

At that, the air knocks from my lungs like I’ve been cross-checked into the boards. My middle name is Emilio. Did she know? Or is it a coincidence? Was that Carter’s way of acknowledging my absence in her life?

But more than Emmy being named for me, I’m stuck on the other half of her name.

“She’s named after you.” They must have been close.

“Carter was my best friend. She drove me nuts, but we’re all each other have.” Her face clouds. “Had. Emmy is my last tie to her.”

“It must be tough. Losing a sibling. I can’t imagine…” Tony and Cari make me crazy, but I don’t know what I’d do without them.

Riley clears her throat. “Her birthday is April ninth.”

I count in my head. We’re in the second week of October, just starting our season…

“That makes her about six months old.” And conception would have been during the offseason, when I had nothing but time and energy for getting into trouble.

“She’s a great baby. Happy most of the time. Usually sleeps through the night. She’s… perfect.”

The baby stares at me with dark brown eyes. My eyes. Wisps of chocolate-brown hair attempt to curl on her head. Her cheeks are round and full, her arms and legs chubby with rolls. Although she’s wearing socks, they’re slipping off.

“Isn’t she cold?” She’s only wearing a little one-piece outfit, her limbs exposed. It may be early October, but it’s already getting chilly.

“I usually wrap her in blankets. She doesn’t like to wear clothes.” Riley chuckles. “If I let her, she’d be naked all the time. But that’s not a good idea in this weather.”

I grunt in agreement. Especially if she’s from Arizona, she won’t be prepared for the cooler temperatures in Boston. Every baby I’ve ever seen has been wrapped in blankets and layers. But what do I know about dressing a baby? Maybe that’s how they do it everywhere.

We fall into an awkward silence, interrupted by a knock on the door. I get up to answer it, my heart racing.

Vanessa is tall, blond, and athletic, with the best poker face I’ve ever seen. She works for the Boston Grizzlies, and she’s married to Sven Larsson, my teammate. She also has a kid about the same age as Emmy.

“What did you do?” she demands as she steps over the threshold. “I’m not PR.” At the sight of Riley and Emmy, she stops in her tracks. “Gonzo, what the fuck did you do?”

“I need help.” It’s the truth, but my voice still cracks anyway. I don’t like asking for help. I don’t want to be the family screwup any more than I want to be the team’s laughingstock.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa. I work with this guy,” she says, striding past me into the living room. She shakes Riley’s hand. “And who is this?”

“This is Emmy. She’s my daughter.”