Taking Possession: A Secret Baby Romance (Bad Ballers Book 4) Read online

  After he’d settled, he’d demanded I tell him all about my phone fight with Dash. He’d listened without amusement as I related the instance. I’d read the disapproval in his face the entire time.

  “What do you think I’m going to say?” Abe grinned at me.

  “That I let my pregnancy hormones get the better of me.”

  Abe’s dark, expressive brows rose up to his hairline. “Would I ever say something like that to you?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  He shrugged and settled back into his Adirondack chair. “It’s not that you’re wrong necessarily,” he said after a moment. “But I don’t think Dash was being malicious – just stupid. So telling him to draw up custody papers might have been a little intense.”

  “I think it’s better this way,” I sighed.

  Abe frowned and set his drink down. “Annie, I’m disappointed in you,” he said.

  “You sound like my parents.”

  “Yes? Well, I’m not your parents, and I’m not your sister, so you might actually try and listen to me.”

  It was the tone of his voice that made me look over. His frown was genuine. “Did you ever think that there might be a reason you’re thirty and haven’t found a great guy yet?”

  I opened my mouth, and he cut me off. “Before you answer that, I want to remind you that you’ve maintained, for years, that you’re comparing every guy you meet to Dash, and that’s why you’ve not met anyone yet. But you had Dash in your grasp, and you bitched him away, so I’m going to call bullshit on that excuse.”

  I knew my mouth was hanging open because he stared at it wryly. “Close it, Annie Leibowitz, you’ll catch flies.”

  I wanted to hit him, but I couldn’t help but feel like he might be getting somewhere. When Abe was sure I wasn’t going to interrupt, he continued. “Guys aren’t book characters, Anne. They’re not going to magically say the right thing in the right situation, or do the right thing. Most of us have only our life experiences to guide us through life. And we judge others based on how we’d react, or what we might do in a given situation. Remember that you and Dash come from completely different worlds. You might think he should say something or do something, but it might just never occur to him. Rather than tell him what you need and want, you get mad at him for not intuitively knowing. That’s not fair.”

  I held up a hand. “I don’t think I’m needing and wanting anything unreasonable!”

  “Honey, please,” said Abe, dismissing me. “Compared to the women Dash is used to dating, you probably seem like a pillar of independence and sanity. Don’t let your own insecurities eat away at a relationship you might be having with him. You’re afraid of what people might think of you, and you’re afraid that you’re not good enough for Dash. So you’re pushing him away. Knock it off.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Abe gaped at me. “Okay?!” he repeated back. “That’s it? Just: Okay?”

  “Okay, you’re right,” I said. “About all of it. You’re right.”

  Abe settled back down in his chair. “Well, then,” he blinked and lifted his glass. “Here’s to being right!”

  “I’m not toasting you,” I said, taking a gulp of his mother’s terrible cocktail. “But here’s the real dilemma. What do I do about it now?”

  Abe snorted. “Nothing. You’re here with me now. Let’s enjoy ourselves. You can worry about fixing things on Monday.”

  34

  Dash

  George Brown was right about me, I thought as I parked my rented Porsche in front of the Barnes Compound, my parent’s East Hampton monstrosity. I’m just a spoiled Golden Boy.

  I hadn’t been to the Compound in months. I hadn’t actually spoken to my parents in months. But after speaking with Burke and Caz, I still wasn’t ready to own up to my own failings with Annie. I just wanted to shut down for a few days, and the best place to do that was in East Hampton.

  “Ah!” bellowed my father, stepping out onto the deck. “The prodigal son!”

  I grinned at him. Unlike Becca and Annie, whose relationship with their parents could be rather strained, I quite liked mine. There were four of us kids, and we had all gone to boarding school, so we’d never seen much of our parents. Which, in my mind, was why our relationship was so good.

  “Hey, Pops,” I said, letting him grab me up in a big bear hug.

  “Tell you what. Dashiell, my boy, you look…fatigued.”

  “I feel fatigued,” I admitted.

  “To what do we owe this impromptu visit?” my mother asked, coming out of the library and into the entry. “If I read your schedule correctly, we shouldn’t see you for another three weeks!”

  “It’s the weekend,” I said. “I’m not staying long.”

  “Ah,” said my father. “So our son has come to talk.”

  “Well, I like to think we’re good listeners,” said my mother, wryly. “Parenting your sister Dorothy will teach anyone patience.”

  “Are any of them here?”

  “Next weekend.” My mother raised her gaze toward the ceiling. “I’ve been praying for patience.”

  “I think that’s the thing that makes us saddest about the whole divorce business,” said my father, resting his hand on my shoulder. My father is a tall man, but I overshoot him by two inches.

  “What’s the thing?” I asked. My parents and I hadn’t spoken about it. Not even when it happened, although my mother had tried.

  “When your wife…”

  “His ex-wife,” my mother reminded him.

  “When your ex-wife and her sister were here, we could task them with wrangling the grandchildren. Now, we’ll have to entertain the devil’s get ourselves.”

  “To be fair,” said my mother, “it wasn’t Becca who was good with Adrian and Margot. Her sister handled them most of the time.”

  “Ah, well, there’s the solution,” said my father, beaming. “You divorced Becca. Not Anne. Invite Anne to stay this summer.”

  I closed my eyes. As usual, my parents were about to hit the nail on the head.

  “You’re proposing I bring Becca’s sister up here to babysit?” I said. “If you’re so concerned, you can talk to Dorothy and Tim about hiring a nanny.”

  “Ugh,” my mother made a disgusted sound. “Dorothy won’t hear of it.”

  “I wanted to swim a bit before we had our talk,” I said. “But since we’re on the subject of Anne, perhaps we should sit down.”

  “On the subject of Anne?” my father muttered, allowing me to usher him into the library, where my mother had been re-reading one of her mysteries.

  The library had been decorated in soft shades of beige and gold. The bookshelves weren’t decorative; they were full of spy novels, mysteries, and thrillers that my mother had collected over the years. It was an odd juxtaposition: the silk and pearl beaded curtains with the bent paperbacks.

  “What is it?” my father asked, sitting next to my mother on the small loveseat. I was too nervous to sit, so I remained standing.

  “I know that four grandchildren may seem like quite enough for any set of grandparents…”

  “Oh dear god,” my mother said, crossing herself. “I knew it.” She sent my father a vicious look.

  “Knew what?” I snapped.

  “Never mind,” said my father, loudly. “Continue, please. Margaret, I’ll thank you to shut up while Dashiell is speaking.”

  My mother pressed her lips together, but I’d already lost my momentum. I sat on the overstuffed, silk chaise and shrugged. “I’m going to be a father.”

  “Congratulations,” said my father, firmly. “And we mean it. Children are a gift. Unless they are your sister Dorothy’s children. Then, they’re a nightmare.”

  My mother whacked my father on the leg and cleared her throat. “Who, may I ask, is the Madonna carrying this miraculous conception?”

  I steeled myself. “Annie.”

  “Annie who?” asked my father, looking at me blankly.

  “Annie Brown. Anne B
rown. Becca’s sister.”

  My father blinked profusely, and my mother squinted at me as if trying to make me out. Then her face relaxed. “That beautiful red-headed goddess,” she said. “You’ll have blond and ginger offspring. How delightful.”

  “Ah, mom?”

  “What your mother means is that we’re happy for you,” said my father, but he sounded uncertain. “We’d never say a bad word about Becca. She was lovely. But her sister was another story. Polite, mature, helpful…”

  “Literate,” said my mother, dryly.

  “Mother, Becca was extremely intelligent…”

  “But she read non-fiction” said my mother, as if that explained all of her issues with my ex-wife.

  “Well,” I said, wondering what Twilight Zone I’d walked into. “Annie reads fiction, and Annie’s due in January.”

  “January,” said my mother. She held up her fingers and counted down. Then she looked at me again. “So, this tryst with Becca’s sister happened after the divorce.”

  I felt incredibly uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  “More importantly,” said my father, “Little Red will make it down here this summer so that I don’t have to murder your sister’s offspring in their sleep.”

  I blinked. “I’ll invite her…”

  “Oh, thank god!”

  “But she’s not going to be the nanny,” I warned.

  “Of course not,” said my mother. “She’s your…what do you kids call it? Your baby-mama?”

  “Mother!”

  “She’ll be treated as one of the family. We like Annie, Dash. We’re happy for you. Are you happy?”

  I ran a hand over my face. “It’s complicated.”

  “I recommend un-complicating it,” said my father, standing. “You’ve a week off coming up. Invite her down here.”

  I hadn’t spoken to Annie since our fight on the phone, and I wasn’t sure I could take another rejection. I took a run on the beach for an hour, went for a swim in the Atlantic, and then lay on the sand for a while, sunning. When I felt more like myself, I took a shower and sat down to call Annie.

  “Hello?” She answered on the second ring and, not for the first time, I breathed easier upon hearing her voice.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “What’s going on, Dash?” asked Annie, sounding hesitantly conversational. I took a breath. That was a good sign. At least she wasn’t angry any more.

  “I’m calling to apologize,” I said. “But I don’t want to do it over the phone. I want to do it in person.”

  Silence and then, “Are you coming to DC?”

  I bit my lip. “No,” I said, carefully. “I’m trying to be careful about exposure. I went to visit my parents and to tell them about…about us. They want to invite you to the Hamptons this summer. I’m hoping you might join me when I come back here in two weeks’ time.”

  “Two weeks’ time…”

  “We’ve got camp until then. But then I get a full three weeks off. I want to spend them with you. Some place where we can just be ourselves for a bit. Will you come to the Compound?”

  The quiet only lasted a second, but it felt like an eternity. “Yes. Okay.”

  “Great. I’ll take care of everything and text you the information. I…” I didn’t know how to end the call.

  “It’s okay,” said Annie. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

  35

  Anne

  Dash offered to drive the airport and get me, but I wanted to drive my own car. I was still nervous that this would be terrible and that I’d want to make a quick getaway. Dash seemed to understand and didn’t push the issue.

  By the time I’d gotten to the Barnes’ Compound, I’d worked myself into an anxious mess. I’d been so taken with the Compound when I’d first arrived. I remembered telling Becca how nice I thought everything was and how wonderful Dash’s parents and siblings were. Becca had said to me, “That’s because you’re not part of the family.”

  Would they treat me differently now? Dash had told me several times over the last two weeks that they wouldn’t, that they were genuinely happy for both of us. It was hard to believe. My mother and sister still weren’t talking to me, and I wasn’t yet ready to talk to my father.

  I pulled into the gravel driveway and stared up at the large, imposing home. It was called the Compound because there was a main house and three guest houses. Becca and Dash had had one of the guest homes to themselves, whereas I’d been put in a room in the main house.

  I’d only stayed for a weekend those last two summers I’d visited. A weekend was all I’d committed to this time, as well, though I’d packed for a week and had warned my team not to count on me for practice during the month of July.

  “Annie!” Dash called out from the front door, jogging down the stairs. He’d shaved the beard he’d been growing and looked like the old Dash. He wore board shorts and – of all things – a tank top.

  My stomach seized. Over three months into this pregnancy, and I was just beginning to feel as if my body weren’t quite my own. But that reaction was entirely normal upon seeing Dash. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to just how beautiful he was.

  “Wow,” he said, getting an eyeful. I was wearing a pair of white shorts and an un-tucked blue oxford shirt to hide my growing belly. “You look amazing.” He strolled down the stairs and took my bag from me.

  “That’s called ‘glow,’” came a voice from behind him. Mrs. Barnes walked out onto the deck and gave me a sweet and welcoming smile. “Hey there, Red!” she called. It was what she and her husband had dubbed me two summers ago.

  “Hi, Sheila,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.

  “Look at you,” said Sheila Barnes, following her son down the stairs and opening her arms. Sheila was also taller than I was, which meant I had to stand on my toes to get my arms around her. She gave me a hard hug. “You,” she said, “are a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Mother,” said Dash, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me away from his mom. “She’s not here to be Adrian’s playmate. Got it?”

  “Would you stop it, Dash?” said his mother, batting his hand away. “I want to get a look at your baby-mama.”

  I started, and Dash groaned, hiding his face in his hand.

  “You must be the most beautiful creature that has ever stepped foot in this house,” said Sheila. “Look at that shining hair, those gleaming eyes… you’re in the third month, honey, or I’ll eat my hat.”

  “You’re not wearing a hat,” said Dash, taking me back from his mother. “And I haven’t seen Annie in two weeks. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to show her around, and then you can gush over her skin.”

  Dash steered me away from his mother. I thought we might go upstairs, but once we entered the Compound, we went straight through and to the back. Like a hotel, the Barnes’ Compound had a pool, as well as a beautiful view of the beach.

  “Oh,” I said as we headed toward one of the guest houses. “I get to stay in a guest house?”

  Dash looked slightly embarrassed but didn’t comment. Instead, he showed me around the room and showed me where I could put my clothes. There was one closet where half of his belongings were hanging. I shared the bureau with him, too. It seemed very intimate.

  “How have you been feeling?” Dash asked after I was finished emptying my suitcase.

  “Strange,” I admitted, my hand fluttering to my stomach.

  Dash’s gaze followed my hand. “May I?”

  I nodded and moved toward the bed, where he sat. He lifted up my shirt and pressed his warm hands to the rounded bulge of my recently flat stomach. It was an incredibly intimate act.

  “Shit,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s really real.”

  I nodded. “No turning back now.”

  Our gazes met for a moment, and my breath caught in my throat. Something had changed in Dash. There was something softer about him, something less urgent. I wasn’t sure how to handle this new, mellower
Dash.

  “Come on,” he said, standing up. “Dorothy and her husband Tim are here, and Ray’s come without his wife. It’s best to say hi to all of them before we disappear.”

  “Do I need to change?” I asked. “I could smell dinner cooking as we walked through the house.”

  “No, you’re fine,” said Dash. “No senators or business men coming through this weekend. It’s just family.” I didn’t know if he was joking or not, and he didn’t give me time to figure it out. He grabbed my hand and led me out of the guest house.

  Stay more than a few hours with the Barnes family, and you’ll learn really quickly that they aren’t sports people. They’re old money. Dash’s grandfather was a railroad man who’d purchased the Hamptons Home sometime in the ‘40s. Dash’s mother was a professional decorator; his father worked in international finance and was on the board of several hospitals and charitable organizations.

  I’d always found them intimidating but, as their weekend guest the last few years, hadn’t had to do much talking. This time, it was incredibly different.

  For about ten minutes during dinner, I was the focal point of the conversation. I knew I spent the entire time red-cheeked, but there was nothing to help it. Beside me, Dash was no longer an intense, immediate presence. That role was taken on by his sister Dorothy, a property lawyer who lived most of the year in Asheville, North Carolina, where her husband ran a deli.

  Dash’s brother, Ray, was just as tall as Dash, but not nearly as in shape. Dining with the Barnes family was an overwhelming experience. They were quick to speak over one another, rarely listened to something the other said, and leaped after topics like sparrows after breadcrumbs. For ten minutes, they’d pumped me full of questions about Becca, and how I and Dash had ended up in this position. Once they’d gotten the answers they wanted, they’d moved on.