Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“My dad is Nathan Bishop. I assume you know that, right?”
She nods. “I think everyone knows who Nathan Bishop is.”
They know about what he’s done, but I’m not sure many people truly know who he is, and what the cost of his success was. Basketball was his life. Everything else always came second. But that’s not what this conversation is about.
“He was obviously very driven,” I say. “And I started playing basketball when I was a toddler. The taller I grew, the more my father envisioned me being his heir apparent. He had it all planned out—I would go to Duke and go pro when I graduated. But then…” I lean into the back of the booth, pausing for a couple of seconds. “Then I got my high school girlfriend pregnant at the end of our senior year.”
Kylie is watching me, taking in my words but not reacting. She nods slightly, encouraging me to continue.
“My parents were furious, of course. They accused her of getting pregnant on purpose to trap me. But that wasn’t the truth. We were just irresponsible. And I hadn’t planned on being a father for a long time, but when it happened, I knew I wanted to be a better father than my dad was. My parents offered to support Angie financially so I could still go to college, but that was never an option. I decided not to go to Duke and I got a job working construction as soon as I graduated high school. Angie and I got married and got an apartment.”
I push away the flood of memories, and swallow against the tightness in my throat. Kylie must sense something is wrong, because she reaches across the table and takes my hand in her much smaller one.
“Angie and I were nineteen when Jack was born.” It’s all I can do to keep my voice level as I say his name. “He was our whole world until the day he died of SIDS when he was three months old.”
Kylie’s eyes flood with tears. “Oh, Pax. I’m so sorry.”
I’m silent for a few seconds, remembering how light my son felt in my arms when I rocked him to sleep. How much I loved the way his face lit up when he heard my voice. Losing him has never stopped hurting. I keep living, but I’ll never be the man I was before I was Jack’s dad. And that’s a good thing. The therapist I saw after he died told me it hurts so badly because I loved him so much, and he’ll always be a part of me.
“Angie was depressed after it happened. Seriously depressed. She was hospitalized for it.”
“My god.” Kylie wipes the corners of her eyes. “I can’t even imagine.”
“The thing is, we weren’t that serious about each other,” I admit. “In high school, I mean. We were planning to go to different colleges. But everything changed when she got pregnant. When I took those marriage vows, I meant them.”
Kylie squeezes my hand across the table, and I squeeze hers back gently.
“I tried to support her as much as I could,” I say. “But she was hospitalized for months while being treated for depression, and when she was released, she told me she wanted a divorce. Looking at me was just too painful for her; it made her think of Jack and that wasn’t helping her heal.”
Those months were the darkest of my life, and jumping back into them emotionally makes me feel like I’m sinking in quicksand. I push forward, though, knowing Kylie needs to see all of me before deciding if she wants to be with me.
“I understood,” I tell her. “I wasn’t mad at her or anything. We divorced amicably and she moved to California. She got remarried a couple years later and had twin girls. And I kept working construction for a couple more months, until one of my high school hockey coaches called and asked me to meet with a scout.”
“Was that a huge surprise?”
I smile at the memory. “Such a surprise. My dad had been on me about making some calls so I could go to college and play basketball, but I didn’t want to. Hockey had always been my first love, but my dad looks down on hockey.”
Kylie scrunches her face, confused. “Why?”
“Not as much money, not as many opportunities, and more likelihood of injuries. And also…he’s Nathan Bishop. It embarrassed him that his own son wanted to play any sport more than basketball.”
“He sounds delightful,” she says, her voice loaded with sarcasm.
“You have no idea.” My smile is wry. “So anyway, I did it. I started with a minor league team and got called up partway through my first season. And now, here I am.”
When I look into her eyes, they’re filled with something new. Not sympathy, but appreciation. Warmth. And if I’ve still got game after all this time, I think…arousal?