Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“You’re…the father?” Coach asks, but I don’t answer him. I’ve lost my voice. I’m in shock. A minute ago, I was remembering how this woman was the best damn lay of my life, how I woke up wanting more, wanting to get to know her, how she walked away without looking back, and now she’s trying to fuck me over. She didn’t want anything to do with me the morning after when she thought I was a nobody, but now that she knows who I am, she wants to cry baby?
“Bullshit!” I say, finally finding my voice. “We had a one-night stand.” I turn to Liv. “If you think you’re getting a dime from me, you’ve lost your mind.”
“Son, what did you just say?” Coach’s face is turning beet red. I’ve never seen him this pissed. I’m not sure why he cares, but he needs to have my back or mind his own business. “I would watch what you’re saying.”
“What the hell, Coach? You expect me to just stand here while this gold-digger tries to fuck me over?” I nod toward Liv who looks like she’s not sure whether to be mad or upset. “You’re supposed to have my back.”
Without saying a word, Coach cuts across the room, and before I can duck, he punches me in the face. My back hits the wall as the guys all jump into action, pulling him off me.
“That gold-digger is my daughter!” Oh, hell…shit just got real.
And this is when I should close my mouth, but I’m too worked up—too pissed because I thought she was different, too disappointed that she’s like everyone else in my fucking life. “That may be so, but can’t you see this for what it is? She’s a fucking groupie.” I turn to Liv. “What do you want? Huh? Money? A house? A car?”
Coach pushes through the guys, but Killian grabs him before his fist can connect with my face for a second time.
“Nick, stop!” Killian shouts, but I don’t listen.
“C’mon, you come at me, what—” I quickly do the math in my head—“nine months later. What do you want? And don’t tell me nothing. Everybody wants something.”
She stares at me for a minute, her face bright red with anger and her hand resting on the top of her swollen belly. “I didn’t know…I lived in Paris…I didn’t know who you were that night, Cole.” She emphasizes my name to prove her point. Anybody who knows me calls me Nick. My mother calls me Nicholas. I told her my name was Cole.
Coach goes to his daughter’s side. “Olivia, honey, what the hell happened?”
Five
Olivia
Nine months ago
“Olivia, I hate that you wouldn’t let me fly over for your graduation.” I’m sitting on my terrace, talking to my dad, but my mind and heart are a million miles away as I stare at the Eiffel Tower. It’s nighttime, and the beautiful tower monopolizes the area. The twinkling lights glitter, making it look like a white Parisian Christmas tree.
“You came for my graduation when I got my bachelor’s degree. You didn’t need to come for my master’s as well. Plus, I was thinking of coming to visit you.” I wasn’t really, but in light of recent events, I’m thinking a vacation across the Atlantic is just what I need.
“Yeah?” My dad’s voice raises several octaves in excitement. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding. I would love for you to come and visit.” My thoughts go back to the day my dad married my stepmom, Corrine. The way he smiled with unshed tears in his eyes. After losing my mom—his soulmate—to breast cancer seven years ago, he didn’t think he would ever fall in love again. Then he met Corrine. I remember when he called me. His voice wavered, scared I wouldn’t be happy for him. How could I not be? He loved my mother until she took her final breath. Nobody deserves to live the rest of their life alone because they lost the love of their life too soon.
“I would only be able to come for a week, though. The museum has asked me to come on fulltime as their Arts Education Coordinator now that I’ve graduated.”
“That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you. You took your passion for education and your love of art and seem to have found a job you really enjoy.”
“Well, I have to make a living somehow.”
My dad chuckles. The truth is, my mother was an extremely wealthy woman, and when she died, she left everything to me. I have enough money to never have to work a day in my life. When I asked my dad why she didn’t leave it all to him—he was her husband after all—he told me his job was to take care of her. She never had to touch the money while she was alive, and it was her last wish to know I would be taken care of.