Page 32 of Tight Ends & Tiaras
BEN
I stare at the screen,wishing the paternity report said something different. Like, You’re off the hook, asshole! You weren’t dumb enough to knock up the woman who shredded your heart. You’re not stuck with her... for life!
Except that’s not what my laptop says.
Swallowing so I don’t puke up my breakfast, I try to remind myself of something wise Dr. Patricia says so I can calm the fuck down. But I can’t shake the idea that Janelle and I are parents. Together. And now she’ll be a permanent fixture in my life. But worse, Liliana is stuck with me.
Anxiety ratchets up my spine when I consider all the ways I could fuck up that kid. She deserves better. She deserves a dad who wants kids. Who knows how to be around them. Who doesn’t have massive panic attacks when he’s around what’s left of his real family.
Janelle and I are a shitshow on a good day. What’s gonna happen on the bad ones?
For some reason, Sienna comes to mind. Why couldn’t she have been the one I knocked up? She’s sweet and chill and fun and hot as hell.
I text Janelle.
The test was positive. But I guess you knew that.
Maybe that wasan assholish thing to say, but fuck it. She lied about it for years. Besides, I am an asshole. Best she get used to this version of me instead of the pussy-whipped douche who followed her around in high school.
Those three little dots start bouncing around, but before she responds, I tell her we’re going to Target to get baby crap. So I can actually take care of the baby.
Scary shit, right there.
“I guess it’s time I figure out my head from my ass and learn how to take care of Lily,” I mumble.
Scarier words have never been said.
An hour later, I’m standing in hell. AKA the baby aisle of Target.
“Oh, my God, this is so freaking cute,” Janelle squeals as she holds up some pink monstrosity.
“Does Liliana really need a tutu hanging off her ass?”
Janelle ignores me as she rifles through more girlie shit.
I glance around, feeling like aliens have abducted me. I’m surrounded by breast pumps and baby wipes and butt paste. Why would butt paste be in the children’s aisle, you ask? No fucking clue. And if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to find out.
Lily chucks her bottle out of the stroller, and when it lands, the lid pops off and milk goes everywhere.
I’m not a religious man, but right now it feels like I’m being punished for not going to church with Tía Teresa more often when I was growing up.
After I clean up the mess with a million wipes, I rub the spot between my eyes that started pounding a little while ago.
When I got the paternity results this morning, I figured Janelle would know what I’d need for my new place—my fake apartment at Sienna’s—but so far, all she wants to do is accessorize pink outfits.
Sienna, bless her beautiful soul, said we could bring over all this crap today to get Lily’s situation set up and make sure Janelle got the message loud and clear that I wasn’t on the menu.
When Janelle’s done crooning about the pink tutu, I launch into my spiel again, the one she keeps avoiding. “So how are we going to deal with custody? I need to figure this out, Janelle. I have training camp coming up that has the potential to suck the life from my body in this South Texas heat. I won’t be in a good headspace then to make any kind of decisions about this.”
Dr. Patricia is always reminding me to not make monumental decisions when I’m stressed, which sounds reasonable, though it’s not always practical. Don’t big decisions automatically skyrocket your stress?
Janelle turns her face up to me and lifts an eyebrow. “I could suck the life from your body,” she whispers in a sultry purr.
I check in with my dick, which doesn’t respond, thank God. Because a man can dislike someone and still want to fuck her silly. But I’m pretty sure she carved that up like a holiday turkey senior year of high school. Even last Friday night when I thought I was headed for a booty call, nothing below the belt got invested.
“As I keep telling you, I’m not interested, Janelle. In this life or the next. We are co-parents. That’s it.”
She pouts, which I used to find so appealing for some reason. Now I just want to roll my eyes.
