Читать книгу All-American Father - Anna DeStefano - Страница 11

A LARGER-THAN-LIFE champion becoming a desperate single parent wasn’t an easily stomached sight, certainly not before breakfast.

Bailey didn’t know which made her sicker, Derrick’s heartbreaking concern for his child, or the thought of how Drayton would take advantage of it.

“You and your wife might want to reconsider—”

“My ex-wife’s back in Atlanta with her new husband, sweating the real-estate market, because the two-point-five-million-dollar palace he bought five years ago is in Windward. Seems Buckhead would be better for Amanda. She doesn’t want to have to drive the Ferrari too far when she’s ready to shop. With all those details on her mind, Leslie’s commitment to ruining her life seemed like a preteen phase the last time we spoke.”

Bailey blinked as Derrick pulverized the last of his cinnamon roll, adding bitter and divorced to her growing list of things she hadn’t expected in this grown-up version of her schoolgirl crush.

“I’m really sorry, Derrick.” She shook her head at the memory of the stunning blonde she’d heard he’d married, the cheerleading captain who’d ruled Western at Derrick’s side during Bailey’s freshman year. “I hadn’t heard about the divorce. I’ve been a little out of touch the last few years.”

A tired, defeated man looked up from his plate, instead of the conquering hero he played so well for the rest of the world.

“I don’t remember much about you back in school,” he admitted. “Except you laughing once, when you passed Amanda and me in the hall. Something about hoping I liked hanging out with leeches, ’cause I’d be paying for the privilege for as long as Amanda held on. Looks like you were right.”

“And you’re still paying.” Bailey winced. Had she really been that much of a snot?

“No, my kids are paying, and I haven’t protected them any better than I did myself. Alimony and child support were Amanda’s priorities during the divorce. To get the settlement she wanted, she asked for joint custody of the girls. But ever since she married her NFL superstar, Leslie and Savannah have been with me, and Amanda’s showing no sign of wanting them back.”

“Kids could definitely cramp a socialite’s style.” Or a successful lawyer’s. “So you brought them cross-country and away from the rest of your family. Why?”

“My parents are retired to Florida now. Leslie and Savannah have only met Amanda’s mother a couple of times. And Langston was someplace new. A slower pace than living in downtown Atlanta. And the job with my new firm promised a partnership as soon as I close the deal I’ve been working on since I got here.”

“Nice.” Something too much like envy tainted Bailey’s response.

“Yeah, except I’m no better at being a single father here than I was at being a married one in Atlanta. That’s why I came over to—”

“I can’t help you, Derrick.” She couldn’t even get through the morning without needing a contingency plan for outmaneuvering the IRS.

“You could reason with your boss. Pull a few strings. Get Drayton to see that putting Leslie to work would be a win-win proposition for the store. What does he have to gain by taking her to court?”

Derrick had been close to pleading when he arrived. Now, annoyance glittered behind the slate-gray eyes he shared with his daughter.

The man was a champion. He’d probably never had to beg for anything. He’d never scraped by on nothing, not even pride.

“By all means, see what you can talk Drayton in to, but count me out,” Bailey said, not liking herself much while she said it. “My boss is a hard-ass, and whatever markers I hold at the store, I need them to work out my own Hail Mary deal.”

“You really care that little about what happens to a messed-up twelve-year-old?”

Ah-ha. The gloves were off, and that made things easier all around.

“You know, you didn’t even know I existed before Thursday.” She picked up her plate and mug as she stood. “How is it that you’ve got my self-centered motives all figured out, in just a matter of days?”

Derrick was standing, too, lending height and muscle to the devastating good looks that had turned her to goo as a teen.

“Bailey—”

She raised her free hand to stop him.

“I may have had a crush on you, along with every other girl at Western, but you were full of yourself then, and you’re full of yourself now. I get that it sucks that the world’s not revolving around you anymore, and that you’ve got more to deal with than your fancy new career. But my advice is to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You always were smarter than any of your crowd gave you credit for. Find a way to solve your own problems.”

“Feeling sorry for myself? Is that what you call being willing to beg a stranger for help, no matter how pointless it obviously is?”

“No, it’s what I call being so wrapped up in your own world that you can’t see the mess crashing down on other people!” With his degree and experience, not to mention his high-profile image, he could write his own ticket in whatever city he chose to live in. But she was selfish, for not sticking her neck out to spare him the embarrassment of crawling back to Drayton? “I have my own problems, Derrick. I get that you don’t care what they are, but they’re just as real to me as Leslie’s are to you.”

“I…” He jammed his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “I’m sorry, Bailey. I shouldn’t be pushing like this. I heard what you’ve been doing since high school. And I can only imagine how hard it must be to keep this business going for your grandmother. You must be busy as hell, but—”

“Busy! I’m not busy, and I’m not putting you off because I think my problems are more important than yours. I’m drowning, Derrick….”

A hiccuping sound escaped her attempt to swallow. She never let the past in. With today and tomorrow to worry about, who had time? She just kept working. Kept her head down. Refused to give up.

“Bailey.” He reached for her arm.

“Don’t waste your pity on me.” She backed toward the kitchen, clutching her dishes to keep from tossing them at his head. Something raw and ugly had been building since first seeing Derrick in all his successful glory. Resentment she’d never before felt toward anyone or anything. “Save your energy. I know it must be tough being dumped by the woman of your dreams and starting over with a new six-figure opportunity in your fabulously successful law career, saddled with two kids someone else was supposed to be taking care of. But spare me the sob story. You’ll find a way to handle Leslie’s problems, just like you’ve handled everything else in your life. When you’ve hit rock bottom and have no way out except letting down the people you love, then maybe we’ll talk about running out of options.”

He should hate her for what she was saying—she did.

But if his problems that weren’t really problems didn’t get out of her house, she was going to embarrass herself and burst into tears for the first time since her father’s funeral. Derrick Cavenaugh made her remember a world she didn’t have time to think about anymore—the one from her dreams, where she got to risk everything and win, instead of fighting the never-ending, losing battle she’d been stuck in for over a decade.

Derrick’s eyes narrowed. The hand that had been reaching toward her returned to his side, his fist clenched.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your morning.” He turned to go, but stopped at the door to the hall. “You know, I get that I’ve had my life handed to me on a silver platter. Things have been easy for so long, I’m not sure I’d know the high road if it rolled up to my house and rang the doorbell. But there’s nothing more rock bottom than watching my little girl ruining her life.”

Maybe it was the gruffness in his voice, or the terrified love ringing in each word, but after he left, Bailey sat back down, instead of heading off to tackle her Sunday morning chores.

She’d railed at Derrick, when it was her life that was driving her crazy. She’d judged him, because she’d never felt more like a loser herself. And she’d totally disrespected the very real threat he faced of not getting through to his daughter.

Since when had her pain-in-the-butt life become an excuse for being an unfeeling bitch?

“WHAT’S UP?” Selena asked over the phone. “You sound wrecked.”

“Nothing new.” Derrick rubbed at the shooting pain behind his right eye. “Leslie’s gone again.”

“I thought you grounded her.”

“Yeah, well, that seems to mean about as much to her as everything else I say.”

Bailey had accused him of feeling sorry for himself. Truth was, he was terrified.

The happy, sweet little girl he’d known was gone, and the prickly preteen who’d taken her place was determined to hurt herself and everyone around her.

“Do you know where she went?” Selena said over a commotion on her end of the line.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked.

“I’m working on a mixed-media project I owe a client.” A loud crash nearly drowned out her words. “Of course Drew and Axel are demolishing my studio faster than I can get anything done. So, you’re going after Leslie, right?”

Bailey’s fierce expression flashed through his mind.

Find a way to solve your own problems.

“I think I know where she went.” Right back to that girl Ginger’s house. For no other reason than he’d forbidden her to. “Once I find her, we have some damage control to do this afternoon, at the convenience store she shoplifted at Thursday.”

He was going to convince the crabby owner to see things his way, whatever it took.

“Savannah can hang out here for as long as you need,” his friend offered.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he forced himself to say. Selena sometimes slaved over an installation for months. Her work had been featured in some of San Francisco’s premier office buildings. She didn’t need another kid hanging around, adding to the confusion.

Not to mention that he should be spending his first Sunday off in months with Savannah, rather than pawning her off on someone else.

“You didn’t ask,” Selena countered. “I’m offering. Can’t promise you won’t get the kid back covered in oil paint and dog slobber, so you might want to drop her off in the rattiest play clothes she’s got. But it’s about time you’re confronting Leslie. I’ll even keep Savannah overnight and get her to school in the morning, if you think it’ll help.”

Selena had been pressuring him to wake up for months. But he’d been too focused on clinching the Reynolds-Allied deal to listen. Then Leslie had upped the stakes.

“I could use the afternoon to work some things out,” he finally said. “But—”

“Then take it. Go do the dad thing. Savannah will keep Drew and the Tasmanian Devil busy. We’ll be fine here.” Another crash was followed by Selena’s frustrated groan. “As long as Drew stops playing fetch in the loft!”

The last of her statement had been screamed for her middle schooler’s benefit. Derrick chuckled in spite of his lousy morning, and the even lousier afternoon to come.

Do the dad thing.

Whatever the hell that was.