“Dr. Cavanaugh should still be granted access to your apartment?”

“Yes, she can come in any time she wants. This is her home.”

He offered me a tentative smile. “Good. I like her, and that little girl of yours is simply an angel.”

“I agree. Thanks again,” I called over my shoulder before heading to practice. The team had an away game on Sunday, so we were traveling tomorrow. I hoped to find Blaire before I had to leave, or I wouldn’t see her until Monday. And that was just unacceptable.

50. Axel

Axel

I was going out of my fucking mind. It was now Monday, and I hadn’t heard a peep from Blaire since Thursday. She still had me blocked, so I had to go through Evan to arrange to pick up Carrie. My daughter was staying the night with me, and we were going to just chill together tomorrow on my day off. I’d missed my sweet little girl over the weekend and was looking forward to seeing her tonight.

It would be even better if Blaire was with you, too. If you weren’t such a fuck up, my brain insisted on reminding me.

I knocked on Evan’s door, and he politely invited me in. “Hey, have you heard from Blaire?” I asked as soon as I got inside.

He smiled kindly at me. “Yes, I talk to her every day.”

“How is she?” I asked, desperate for even a morsel of information about her.

He looked me up and down and said, “About the same as you, I would guess. Kind of a wreck.” He was right. I was a total goddamn mess. I had played like shit yesterday, my inability to focus on work getting me benched before halftime. It made my heart ache to think that Blaire was as miserable as I was. If she would just talk to me…

Carrie shot into the room like she had a rocket in her pants and jumped into my arms. “Hi, Daddy! I missed you.”

I snuggled against her neck, relishing her sweet, little girl smell. “I missed you, too, Care. You want to go out to dinner?”

“Yay! A Daddy date! Can we have Italian food?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” I turned to Evan. “I’ll have her back tomorrow evening by five. Is that okay?”

“Sure, Axel. That’s fine.” Fuck, I hated this, having to go through an intermediary just to pick up and drop off my child.

I took Carrie to a local Italian eatery, and as she was slurping up her spaghetti, she asked, “Daddy, why didn’t you just pick me up at the hotel?”

Hotel? My ears perked up at this bit of information. Was it wrong to pump my daughter for information? Probably. Did I give a shit? Nope. Exactly zero shits given.

“Which hotel?”