BILLY
“I can’t believeI forgot this appointment. I’m so sorry, Billy,” Marlena says as she darts around her living room, gathering baby supplies.
“I got this. Marley will probably sleep during the whole morning anyway.” I pause to consider what we’re doing. “Are you sure Roxy won’t mind?”
“Why would she mind?”
Well, aside from her still being upset with me? I mean, I’m guessing she is. I’ve barely seen her, and when I do, she seems so standoffish. It didn’t help that I had another away game last weekend.
I feel like I’m screwing up everything, and I don’t know how to fix it. There’s nothing I can do about my football schedule.
Now that Coach is confident he can use Nick as a starter and he’s having me work on trick plays during our official practices, we don’t have secret lunchtime drills. On the bright side, Ezra is riled up as hell about it. On the downside, Rox can’t meet then anymore because she’s always recording broadcast assignments. In other words, our schedules are a total clusterfuck.
Remembering that Marlena asked me a question, I rub the back of my neck. “She might not be crazy about me taking Marley to class.”
“She won’t care as long as someone responsible is babysitting.”
Grandma Lena overrules. Fine by me.
Because I’m running late to class, the only spot is down at the front, and I’m afraid if I take it, Murphy’s law says Marley will wake up and cause a ruckus. Plus, it’s right next to Vicky, and I don’t want to encourage her.
So I stand in the back of the huge lecture hall with Marley strapped to my chest and sway side to side. My little bean is sound asleep.
“Mr. Babcock,” Professor Leonard calls out. “Are you planning to join us?”
The entire room turns to look at me. Why is everyone acting like they’ve never seen a man with a baby before?
“I’m listening, sir.” I point to my binder that’s sitting on the back window ledge. “And I have my notes here.”
“Why did you bring a random child to my class?”
I almost make a joke about how thisisChild Development, so what better way to learn about kids than to have one on hand? But I don’t. Because Coach Santos taught me not to fuck around and be an idiot.
“She’s not random. She’s…” I want to say “my daughter,” but I can’t. While a lot of people assume she’s mine, I generally avoid the subject. It’s a little reminder of who I am to Marley. At the end of the day, I’m no one. Fucking Ezra Thomas has a bigger claim on her than I do. I clear my throat. “I promise she won’t cause a problem.”
“See that she doesn’t.”
After class, a few people come up to chat. One girl says she’s from the school newspaper and asks me how I learned to hold a baby.
“She’s like a football. Cradle her like she’s precious, and watch the handoff.”
Everyone laughs. I’m feeling pretty good about myself since I managed to pay attention in class while keeping my little sweetheart comfortable.
Fortunately, Marley slept through most of class, and when she woke, she wasn’t fussy. When I fill in Roxy on my day, she says she’s just grateful I could babysit.
But when a photo gets printed in theBronco Timestwo days later of me in the back of class with Marley, her eye gets that twitch. “Baby cradled by star football safety.” Her eyebrows hike up her forehead. “Did you know you’re on the cover of the school newspaper?”
I’m sprawled out on our couch, reviewing some notes. It’s one of the rare times we’ve both been home at the same time in ages. Wish I didn’t have to study for a test. “Funny, isn’t it?”
She sighs. “You and your fans.”
That doesn’t sound like enthusiasm. “What do you mean?”
“Look at this pic. You’re basically being mobbed. When you walk through campus holding Marley, you’re catnip to single women everywhere.”
I smirk. “Yeah, but am I catnip to you?”
When she doesn’t say anything, I realize our problems are bigger than me trying to make her laugh with some smartass remark.
