7. Cobb

CHAPTER 7

COBB

T here was something about that woman that I couldn't get out of my mind. The entire time I was thinking of her, I was ignoring texts regarding what I'd come to call my ‘New York Problem' and hoping that the lawyer had some information for me. Luckily, he wanted me to come grab coffee with him on Wednesday morning when Monroe happened to be at the courthouse.

With luck, I'd accidentally run into her after I was done. I didn't plan on telling anyone else about this situation if I didn't have to.

"Good to see you, Cobb," Manning the lawyer said, reaching his hand out to shake mine. I took it then he sat in the chair across from me and put his cup of coffee on the table.

"You have news?" I asked because that was where my focus was.

His head bobbled from side to side the way it would when someone was trying to say yes and no at the same time. "I wouldn't say news, exactly. But I've spoken with Hannah's father and their lawyer. She's not interested in a paternity test until the baby is born. Says it could cause complications."

"Could it?"

"My research says yes, but it's extremely unlikely, even in the invasive paternity tests. I plan to petition for a non-invasive paternity test." He took a quick drink then set the cup down with a thud.

"What does that entail?"

"A blood draw from the mother and a cheek swab from the potential father. I assume that won't be an issue."

I raised my hands in the air. "Swab me now."

He chuckled as he pulled a tablet from his bag. "I didn't think you'd protest. Of all the paternity cases I've seen, you are the one most sure you're not the father, and you aren't protesting having to prove it."

I furrowed my brows. "What do you mean?"

"Lots of men claim to not be the father. Hell, they're adamant, but when it comes time to do the testing, they don't want it. They just want them saying they aren't the father to be enough." He looked me directly in the eye. "Which usually means they're the father and are trying to get out of child support. You're not doing that. You're saying you're not, but you're willing to prove it."

"And if it were my kid, I wouldn't be trying to get out of anything." Even if I weren't in love with the kid's mother, I'd never turn my back.

"Exactly." He took a deep breath. "The downside is that I'm being told it can't be done this early and really should wait more until after week eight."

"So I've got some waiting to do."

"Yes. But I'll start trying to work the details out with them and if they resist, I'll begin petitioning the court so we're ready when that day comes."

"OK. That sounds like a plan I can live with."

Manning got up from his chair and slid the tablet back in his bag at the same time. Then he patted me on the shoulder. "Don't worry. It won't be long and we'll get this handled. Be glad it hasn't it the press."

"I am." Because then everyone would know and by everyone, I meant Monroe. Her being in the dark about this was exactly what I wanted. Even if we were only friends.

Sitting in that same spot was where she found me maybe ten minutes later.

"Lunch, Cobb?" she asked again because I'd zoned out. "You said you wanted to eat. When?"

"How about now?" I glanced at my phone and saw that it was late morning, but I had to get to the park soon. I wasn't pitching today, so my schedule was a little different. "It'll be early, but I'm hungry."

"Yeah," she said, giving me a sweet smile. "I could eat."

After deciding where to go, Monroe said she'd ridden with her dad again this morning, so we headed to my car and I drove us to the restaurant. This really good sandwich place not far from the field. Best sandwiches around.

Once we'd ordered, we took our lunch to a booth in the corner that wasn't likely to get a lot of attention.

"So is your issue over?" I asked her, knowing she'd realize I meant the whole damaging the car thing.

"Yep. Dad paid the damages but says I have to pay him back. Papa would probably be happy to pay for it himself but knows Dad won't budge on this. It's fine."

"So your dad's a lawyer. What does your papa do?" I shifted in the seat because those words sounded weird coming out of my mouth. I'd never called anyone ‘Papa' in my life.

She snickered. "He makes furniture. The pieces are pretty popular."

"So I would've heard of him?" I took a big bite of my sandwich because I was starving. Earlier when I'd said I was hungry, I'd downplayed it.

She shrugged. "Maybe. Christopher Bryan is the name he designs under."

My eyes widened slightly. "I think the coffee table in my mom's living room is his."

"She should give it back, then." Monroe snickered at her little joke. "But that's actually awesome. He still does all the designs but only works on the custom pieces for people who request him specifically."

"You mean he makes them?" I asked. She nodded. "With his bare hands?"

She furrowed her brows. "I think he wears gloves a lot of time." Then she cracked a smile. Those jokes might've been awful, but damn, I loved the look on her face as she made them. "Yes. He used to make all of them, but as the business grew, he had to bring artisans in."

"Wow." I sat back. "That's impressive."

"Says the professional baseball pitcher."

Now I chuckled and waved my hand in the air as if what I did was nothing in comparison. "That's a heavy dose of nepotism," I told her. "My dad played, and my grandpa owns the team. It was more the inevitability of the pro baseball player conveyor belt."

She set her sandwich down and popped a BBQ chip into her mouth. "What would you do if you didn't play baseball?"

"I don't know." It was the most honest answer I could give. "I wasn't really ever allowed to think about anything other than baseball."

She bit the inside of her mouth, as if she were trying not to say something, and her blue eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"What?" I asked. When she didn't answer, I said, "We're friends, right? You should be able to say anything."

"Yeah." She scrunched up her nose. "It's not really my place, though."

"I'm asking."

Monroe sighed and now looked me in the eye. "I was thinking that's a little sad. It sounds like you didn't have a choice."

"Don't get me wrong," I assured her. "I love this game. It's what I would've wanted to do, anyway. The conveyor belt just didn't leave me a decent relationship with my dad. He was hard as fuck on all of us."

"Well, that's worse." She threw her hands in the air. "I can't imagine not being close with my dads."

Now I chuckled. If only she had met my dad… Though that wasn't something I really wanted. "I don't think I'd be close to him either way. He's not exactly warm and fuzzy."

"Still…"

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes before I asked my next question. "Are you adopted? I mean, I figured you are and would already know, given how everything works."

She snickered. "Yes, I know that my dads combined aren't both my biological parents, but I'm only half adopted." Now that I couldn't figure out. "My dad is my biological father. Papa adopted me. They used a surrogate I know almost nothing about."

"So you never met your mom?"

Monroe scowled and the change in her face was marked. Normally, she appeared to be a completely docile, cuddly little animal. But now she looked like a feral badger about to strike. "She isn't my mom," she snapped. "I don't have a mom. The surrogate helped my dads have a family, which they wanted. It wasn't even her egg. They used a donor."

"Hey." I reached out, setting my hand on top of hers gently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I don't know how all of that works."

Her face softened and she sighed. "It's OK. I might be a little oversensitive."

"You're not. I should be more careful."

At least after that, we were able to go back to the normal conversation we'd been having before I'd put my foot in my mouth.

Once we'd finished eating, I took the tray to the trash, then we headed to the door, which I held open for her.

"Take you home?" I asked as we walked.

"Yeah. You have to go to work, right?" She looked up at me, squinting in the sunlight.

"In a bit."

When we got to her house, she invited me inside.

Her apartment wasn't large, but it felt bigger than it was. The open-floor plan and light colors probably did that. The kitchen had stainless steel appliances and the only thing separating it from the living room was the couch acting like a divider.

Monroe slipped off her shoes at the door, so I did the same thing, though she didn't ask. It was only fair to assume she didn't want people to wear shoes in the house.

"This is it." She put her arms out and swung around. "Not big, but big enough for me. Oh, the bathroom is there." She pointed to the only door I saw in the hallway. "And of course my bedroom at the end of the hall."

"It's cute."

"I like it. And the price is right." We both chuckled, given that she'd told me her dads didn't charge her rent. "I want to show you something." My stomach tightened, knowing that there were many things I would love to see, but my brain made sure to push that urge away. "You can sit down. I'll be right back."

Monroe hurried down her small hallway, her flowy skirt brushing against the backs of her thighs. It took all of my willpower to pull my eyes away from her and go to the couch as she'd suggested. Monroe was back in a flash, dropped onto the couch next to me and turned with her legs folded beneath her. That damn skirt spread out and raised up her thighs like it was mocking me.

"What's that?" I asked about the things in her hand.

"My mugshots." She grinned. "I thought you'd like to see them."

"Are you serious?" I asked. She nodded emphatically. "How many times have you been arrested?"

She swallowed hard and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Four, including this last one."

"Damn, girl."

She rolled her eyes at me. "I was taught that when you really believe in something, you stand up for it."

"Did they mean get arrested?"

She snorted. "No. Probably not."

"Good thing your dad's a lawyer."

"That's true."

Monroe reached out to hand me the next picture and the one after. In each one, one corner of her mouth was slightly raised in what might be considered a smirk. It didn't look intentional, more like it was a picture and normally, you'd smile for a picture, but here she wasn't supposed to. That was the best way I could describe the look. She was trying not to smile.

"But I know that I need to be more careful. I graduate in a year and will be looking for jobs. Dad says it'll be difficult if I keep getting arrested. It's why he was so adamant that I not have this one on my record."

My eyes widened in surprise. I didn't know that not having a record was an option. "No record?"

She nodded. "The prosecutor dropped the charges if I pay restitution. Dad paid it today. Now I have to pay him back."

"Does that annoy you?" I asked, still trying to figure out their family dynamic. "That you have to pay it back?"

"Not at all. I caused the damage. I should pay for it. Dad just won't let me pay for it out of my savings. He wants me to earn it and I can see his point."

"You have a good relationship with them?" I passed the photos back to her, though I was tempted to keep one of them. She was so fucking cute in each one that the urge was strong.

"The best, I think." She leaned back against the arm of the couch, but her bare legs were still there and the move pulled her skirt higher on her thighs. Nothing inappropriate, but fuck, did I wish it were. "Asher and Reana say it's unnaturally close, but I think that's just because they have more overbearing parents. They couldn't wait to get out of their houses while I love living here, knowing that I just have to go through that door and my dads are on the other side."

"Asher and Reana?" I knew neither of them was someone she was in a relationship with because she wasn't in one right now. Given that the ex-asshole was her last almost-relationship, according to her. Still, Asher was a name that could go for either a man or a woman and to say I was curious was a serious fucking understatement.

"My best friends. We've known each other forever. Asher… She's kind of more on the wild side and Reana is far more conservative, I guess is the right word."

"Where do you fall?"

She shrugged. "Somewhere in between."

I pulled my phone out to glance at the time and realized it was later than I'd thought it would be. Though I wasn't pitching today, I had to get to the field to do my off-day regimen. Ice the arm, dip in the ice tub, toss the ball—no pitches—just something to keep my muscles working and warm, then a short bull pen session. I'd already skipped my workout this morning because of the meeting. I'd probably do one later.

I sighed. "I have to get to the field."

Her eyes widened as she unfolded her legs and swung them off the couch. "Of course. I didn't mean to keep you here too long."

I reached out to grab her wrist as she stood up. "You didn't. I just have to get going." An idea came to mind just then and I wet my lips. "Do you want to go to the game?"

"Absolutely." He answer was instant.

"I'll have my sister get you a ticket and pick you up. Is that OK? I know you haven't met her."

"That's fine with me, but I can also drive."

I was already shaking my head before she'd finished. "If she picks you up, I can bring you home. I want to hear what you thought about the game. I'm not playing, of course, but I'll be there."

She furrowed her brows as if she were trying to figure out whether what I'd just said made sense or not. "Yeah, that's fine. Give her my number so she can text me."

"I will." I headed to the door and slipped my shoes on then sat on the bench she had there to tie them. "I'd take you with me now, but it's hours until game time and you'd be bored out of your mind."

"No problem. Gives me time to change."

Once I was on my feet again, the last thing I wanted to do was leave and I was suddenly cursing the universe for making me meet Monroe now when neither of us was in a place to be anything more than friends. I gently placed my arm on her bicep and said, "I'll see you later, then."

"Bye, Cobb."

Then I had to go.

As soon as I was to my car, I called my sister.

"You want something," she answered.

"How do you know?" I said with laughter in my voice as I pulled away from Monroe's house.

"Because all of you only text me. When you call, I know it's a big favor, so what is it?" Growing up with us meant that Camden knew us all too well and was completely accurate in her assessment.

"Can you pick someone up for the game tonight?" I asked, getting myself out of Monroe's neighborhood to head to the field.

"I can, but who? Also, you didn't ask if I was going to the game tonight." In my head I could see the pout on her face. She'd tried to use that since we'd been kids.

"I assumed, you're right. Are you?"

"Yes. But that's not the point."

I sighed. "Camden. Please. Can you pick someone up for the game?"

"I already said I could. As long as it's not some disgusting friend from high school I hated." There'd been more than one of those, given that most of my friends had been on the baseball team and Camden hated any baseball players she wasn't related to.

"It's not. Her name is Monroe Phillips. I'll send you the address and her number so you can text her if you need to."

Her breath caught when I'd said her . "A woman?" she asked suspiciously. "How in the hell did I become the go-between in my brothers' relationships? Who is she? How long have you been seeing her?"

"First, you've always helped us out when it came to some things, mostly to do with the game. Getting a ticket, making sure Everly knew where to go. Oh, yeah. The brothers talk," I said. She giggled into the phone. "It's not like that, though. We're friends. I met her the other day."

"Uh-huh." The suspicion was still there. As if I couldn't have a friend who was a woman. "You like her?"

"Clearly. I'm not friends with people I don't like." But that wasn't going to fly with her.

"You know that's not what I meant. You like her."

Now I sighed. "It doesn't matter, Camden. I've got shit going on and so does she. We're friends. We're going to remain just friends." Even if everything about Monroe was pulling me in. I'd be the best fucking friend she'd ever had.

"You guys are so stupid."

Now, that was probably true in general, but Camden knew everything that was going on with me. She might not have known what was going on with Monroe and honestly, I probably didn't know everything, either.

It just couldn't work right now.

No matter how much I was starting to want that to be wrong.