Also, for the first time in his career, he had invited the press into his life. Matt and his publicist had advised him to do so to get ahead of the tabloids, and while Ryan was happy to claim his son, it was Kennedy’s reaction that he was worried about. When she didn’t say a word in protest, he was relieved. Part of him thought it was a sign that she was willing to give them a chance.
Ryan forced his worn-out body out of bed. He could hear Riley and Kennedy in the next room. Something was definitely wrong. Between the intense football training and Riley’s care, Ryan quickly figured out his body wasn’t built as strong as he thought it was. He padded on heavy feet towards Riley’s room and found Kennedy already changing the boy into a new set of pajamas. He watched as his son looked at his mother, his eyes empty, exhaustion scrawled on each and every one of his small features.
They had cut Riley’s hair. Ryan couldn’t take a second more of watching it fall out as Riley brushed it. His decision to take his son to the barbershop was the reason for his and Kennedy’s first argument. Riley had thrown a tantrum, but Ryan didn’t believe in letting a five-year-old decide what was important. He almost gave in when Riley was finally in the barber’s chair, but when he also shaved his head the next day, it had earned him points with both son and mother.
He walked over to the bed now and picked Riley up. It amazed him how the child trustingly wrapped both his tiny hands and feet around him, after only a few days of knowing him. He took Kennedy’s hand and tugged her behind him to his room and laid-down on his king-sized bed. His, because Kennedy had been sleeping in the guest room. But the peace lasted only for a minute before Riley was up again, trying to climb over his mother to get to the bathroom. But the boy’s feet hadn’t touched the ground before he was emptying his stomach.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” Ryan said to Kennedy when she rose. “You should probably go get some sleep in your room. We’ll join you after I clean up.” Your room, my room. Ryan couldn’t get over the fact that Kennedy was still wary of him. She didn’t trust him with her heart or her body. They kept their distance, only talking when they had to, usually about Riley. But they were civil with each other, interacting as acquaintances if not as two people who had made love or had children together. He was just glad she hadn’t drawn up a timetable for his spending time with Riley. Ryan had quickly gotten accustomed to having a family, and he wouldn’t relish being told when or where he had to spend time with his son.
As Ryan did the laundry, he marveled at the turns his life had taken. He never expected to be here. He had a family and the Rebels had won the AFC East division championships and were headed to the Super Bowl, which was just three days away. In an extremely lucky turn of events, the big game was being held here in Boston this year, so Ryan didn’t have to travel. There was still the dark cloud of his son’s sickness, but Riley was done with the chemo finally and the bone marrow transplant would happen next week. His son would be getting better. With surprise, Ryan realized that for the first time in a long time, he was happy.
• • •
“Clara is at it again.” Matt dropped a tabloid on Ryan’s breakfast table.
“I don’t care.” Ryan’s body was turned towards Riley, trying to sweet talk his son into taking a bite of his breakfast. Riley needed to get his strength up before the doctor could clear him for the procedure. The boy was being stubborn though, so Ryan quickly found himself resorting to bribery. “How about a dirt bike for your birthday?” Riley’s eyes lit up for a second but then gazed at him in suspicion. But after a minute of consideration, his son took a bite of his toast.
After promising him a gift with each bite, Ryan detected weariness in the droop of his little shoulders, so he cradled Riley in his arms, rubbed his back and hoped he would fall asleep. “He was up all night.”
“He’s still getting sick?” Matt asked, with a discouraged sigh.
“Yeah. But in three days, it’s going to be over. The chemo will be done, and then the transplant happens, and he will soon get better,” Ryan said, attempting to encourage himself.
Matt nodded, his eyes already straying back to the magazine on the table. “You don’t want to know what Clara did this time.”
Ryan shook his head. He already knew what the little bitch was capable of. She had not only somehow gotten her hands on and released the elevator sex tape and the picture of Matt giving Kennedy money, but she’d been running her mouth to the tabloids, accused him of having many other affairs and lovers. He had ceased caring about what she was doing or planning on doing.