“Yeah.” His blue eyes lower to the felt table. “I’ve had one of those too.”
And for just a moment, I see the crack in his cocky, asshole facade. It’s fleeting and gone just as quickly as it appeared. But it’s enough to pique the fixer in me’s interest.
I always said the only job I could possibly love more than my own would be to be a fixer. The Olivia Pope of the sports world because seriously,politics—eww.
“Shouldn’t today be a good day?” I wrap my lips around another olive and bite down, not missing the way he watches me. “Not to toot my own horn, but you just signed with the most prestigious agency in the country. What’s been so rough about your day?”
He looks at his card and taps the table for another hit. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
Jesus. He may as well have waved a red flag in front of a raging bull, and I hate how wrong he is.
“Try me,” falls from my lips before I take a hot second to think the words through.
His eyes lift, intrigue shining back at me. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
I wave my hand over my cards. I don’t want another.
“Come on, Olive . . .”
I should say no. I’m not about to bad-mouth my bosses to a man who just signed with one of them. But for some reason that makes absolutely no sense, I’m desperate to know what’s bothering him.
The dealer flips the card, and my smile stretches my face as the chips are slid my way again. “Fine. You first.”
Long, dark lashes I would die to have frame baby-blue eyes that hold me hostage for one beat, then another... I watch the muscles in his forearm bunch before he sips his bourbon, looking into his glass. “Do you know I have a daughter?”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah... guess you didn’t know.” Logan’s cocky smile is gone as a couple sits down across from us. “She just turned one, and she’s great. Her mom is another story.”
I feel like I’ve heard this story a million times from a million players, but I listen with rapt attention, already knowing where this is going.
“She was a puck bunny. But I’ll never regret her because she gave me Maggie.” He pulls out his phone and hands it to me. A miniature version of Logan stands on unsteady legs in the middle of a field of sunflowers, her tiny arms crossed over her chest, a little pink jumper tied in bows at her shoulders, and matching ribbons laced around two space buns holding back brown curls.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, staring at the sassy little girl. “I take it you and her mom aren’t?—”
“No. We’re not. We never were. Not like that. It was never like that with Monica. When she told me she was pregnant, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to keep the baby. And until now,she’s been happy with visitation. Hell, she doesn’t even bother to show up half the damn time.” His voice raises on the last sentence, and Serena and Rafe look over. Rafe’s brows go up in concern, silently asking if his brother’s okay before Logan nods and waves a hand over his cards, holding this hand.
“Okay, so your baby momma is a shitty mom. That’s...disappointing.” What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Sorry she sucks? “But not exactly an original story.”
“It wasn’t a bad thing as far as I was concerned, until she got engaged and decided she wanted to actually be a mom.” His face tightens, and so does his hand on his glass, worrying me he’s about to break it.
“And that’s a bad thing?” I push, trying to understand and completely clueless why I even care.
“It is when I get served with custody papers.”
“Ouch.” I study him. The tired line of his shoulders. The heaviness in his eyes that wasn’t there when he sat down. “What are you going to do?”
And just like that, the lingering exhaustion snaps away, and the cocky mask slips back into place. “I don’t know, Olive. You’re the lawyer. You got any fancy ideas?”
“You’re not my client, Adler,” I remind him as memories of my own shitty day linger on the periphery. “Did you talk to Pete about it?”
“Not really. I hired him to be a shark for my career, not my personal life.”
“Oh, you sweet summer child.” I sip my martini and look at him over the rim of the still cold glass. “Don’t you know they’re one and the same?”
“Okay then, Olive. If you’re the smartest woman in the room, what would you tell me to do?”
I look at him... Really look at him, already knowing the answer.