I zip my pants back up, realizing that we’ve gone as far as we will right now.
“Yeah, I’m up, buddy. Come here.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper.
“Hold on, Evan.” I hear some muffled sounds and then he says to me, “I’m sending a car for you. Same as yesterday.”
“Who’s that? Is that Mr. Bradford?” Evan asks.
I hold my breath and wait to hear what he says to Evan. “No. Do you remember Ms. Vickie? She’s Ms. Tara’s sister.”
He stays quiet for a while until I hear, “Oh, yeah. I like Ms. Tara better. Can you call her instead?” I don’t hear anything else for almost a full minute.
“Sorry, dumplin’,” he croons into the phone. My heart’s still in my throat at the rejection, but I remind myself that Evan is a five-year-old little boy who’s already lost his mother. He doesn’t want to have to compete for his father’s attention too.
“Who is dumplin’?” I do an exaggerated southern accent.
“Oh, sorry. We agreed I’d call you darlin’. Not dumplin’. I told you my memory is bad.”
“We agreed on no such thing. You’re full of it, champion.”
“Your champion.”
“You belong to the people of New York.”
“I belong to you.” My breath hitches in my throat, and I shake my head. “But darlin’, as much as I don’t want to, I have to get off the phone and get ready for tonight. Evan’s waiting for me so we can have dinner, and—”
“Go. You don’t ever need to explain yourself when it comes to your child. He should come first. Always.”
* * *
The excitementof the game is the same as the night before. The difference is I have more company tonight. Since the boys are out of school, Tara and Ethan have brought Evan and Vincent to the game. Colt also sent tickets for my dad and stepmom, and we’re all sitting center court, wearing matching jerseys, drinking beer, and eating the snacks that keep getting delivered.
Colt scores twenty-five points in the first half, and when he hits a three-point shot right as the buzzer rings, the entire place goes wild. The boys high-five each other and everyone around us. Just like he did the night before, Colt jumps through the crowd, kisses me then picks up the boys and tosses them in the air one by one.
I can feel the color on my cheeks, and Tara bumps her shoulder with mine.
“What?” I mouth.
“We’ll talk later.” More food arrives and she turns to the kids. Evan’s smile drops when he looks at me. I smile, but he looks away. I let out a breath, defeated once again by a five-year-old boy who views me as competition.
“You boys want something to drink”? I ask.
“Soda!” Vincent yells.
“No soda,” Ethan says.
“It’s a special occasion,” I tell Ethan.
“Yeah, Daddy! Please.”
“Loosen up, Ethan. We’re here to have fun.” Tara flags down our server, and the boys tell them what they want. I give Vincent a fist bump, but when I offer one to Evan, he ignores me.
Tara notices, and I shrug.
“We’ll be back,” she announces and gestures for me to follow her. As soon as she stands, Ethan pulls her into his lap and plants a kiss on her. I follow her to a private bathroom I had no idea existed.
“The kid hates me,” I say as soon as we’re alone.
