Don't Let Us Go

Left Behind

"Let's give it up for blessed newlyweds, wishing them the best of married life." Spencer toasted to his teammate and his new bride. Applause rang out, and music blared in the background as Spencer gulped down the wine, taking a heavy sigh.

After a few light chats between colleagues and wedding goers and Spencer decided he'd endured the proceedings long enough to make a sly ditch from the wedding reception.

Having heard enough of, "When are you settling down?" Or, "Any lucky woman for the New York's prime bachelor?" Spencer concluded it was time to head back home to his home penthouse.

Once inside, Spencer watched as the smartlight lit up the extensive rooms of his penthouse. Filled with the best decor and furniture that his decorate could find, the single man wasn't one complain as he kicked off his shoes and headed towards his state of the art kitchen, in search of a midnight snack.

Passing glass display cases of trophies and fortunate items he acquired over his nine years playing professionally, Spencer smirked to himself, letting a void sink in. This was what his life came to, he thought as he downed a freshly cut melon, stabbing the fork deeply as he glanced around his expensive yet empty home. Depressed by the lonely atmosphere, Spencer dragged himself upstairs to the next level of his penthouse in the direction of his room. Tossing off his suit and pants, Spencer tossed himself into bed, ready to end his sad evenings.

Night shifted to morning, and the hungover Spencer found himself awakened loudly to the buzzing of his visitor alert. Groaning, Spencer forced his face into his pillow, wishing to drown out the annoying sounds.  With no end, his doorman continued to page him through the buzzer, forcing Spencer out of bed.

"What is the damn problem, Jerald?" Spencer muffed into the intercom raspyly. "Huh? Who is it?"

"Apologies, Mr. James, but you have a visitor who is demanding I let her up? And sir, I don't think I am any position to turn this one away."

"Isn't that your job?" Spencer argued crabbily.

"Perhaps you may hear this one out, Mr. James. I find it inappropriate to intercede into this situation." Jarald explained vaguely.

"What the he'" Spencer muttered, confused as he rubbed the tip of forehead, irritated. "Just send them up, okay."

Not waiting for a response, he walked away from the buzzer box to throw on a shirt and basketball shorts. Making his way to the elevator loft, he entered the elevator, pressing floor level would allow for him to arrive at the regular floor level before the airlevel of the penthouse. Listening to the ding of the elevator, Spencer waited for the doors to open, scanning the hallway outside the threshold of the elevator. Taken aback by the sight of a small child, grasping a purple and blue suitcase, while dragging a sports bag on the carpetred ground, Spencer said nothing. Grinning a Cheshire beam in his direction, the little girl greeted the silent footballer. 

"HI, you don't know me, but I'm Gracianna Corilynn James." She stated matterfactly. "And I am your daughter." 

Staring blankly at the little girl, he failed to respond, causing her smile to drop as she nervously rubbed her hands at her sides, biting her bottom lip anxiously. 

Sensing the akward tension, Spencer cleared his throat. "We should go upstairs." He managed to force out, getting a firm nod from the kid, who grasped her belongings before speeding to his side as he climbed into the elevator. The doors shut, forcing them into another awkward silence. Keeping his eyes trained on the doors, Spencer tried to ignore the fact that he could feel the eyes of the little girl burning into the sides of his face. 

Finally, the doors opened, revealing the penthouse, giving Spencer sudden relief as he stumbled into his home, trailed by the little girl. 

"Woah." Gracianna gasped looking around the expensive home in awe. "You have an awesome house." She complimented, thinking about how it looked like a scene out of a movies she watched at home. 

Spencer stayed quiet, watching her analyze his home as she made her way over to his display cases. "You have alot of awards." She noted, intrigued by the multiple number of certificates and trophies mounted in the displays. Her eyes fell to walls, that was lined with photos. Her smile faltered, as she eyed the frames photos of the same group of people. Team members, coaches, fangirls, colleagues, and more football surrounded people. "Where's all your family? Mom showed me pictures of you and uncle Dillion when you were younger. And she lots of pictures with Nana Gra. Even pictures from with you two and your friends from high school. I go through that photo album by myself at home. But you just have some people over and over again." 

"Is that suppose to be a bad thing?" Spencer inquired, going through his phone in search of his publist's number. 

'No, I just also thought when I finally met you that you'd have a whole nother family." Graciana shrugged. "I'm happy you don't. Mommy will be happy when I tell her too. Even if you stills acts like she doesn't care." 

His fingers halted on the dial bottom as the mention of this little kid's mom. He finally looked girl curiously. "Who did you say your mom was again?" He asked, thinking back to the multiple one night stands he's had over the years. 

"My mommy is Olivia Baker. Duh." Gracianna squinted her eyes as if he grew two heads. 

His breathing halted and he  gazed at the child suspiciously. "Liv is your mom?" He inquired indisbelif of what he just heard. Shaking his head in denial, Spencer refuted the answer. "Not possible. Liv would not have kept....she couldn't. Not Liv."  His eyes narrowed at the little girl. "If Liv is your mom, why drop you off alone. Huh? Doesn't sound like the responsible Olivia I knew." 

"Oh, that." Gracianna giggled. "That's easy. She didn't want to see you." She rolled her eyes, as if the answer were obvious. 

"Un-fuc..." He began to swear until he saw the girl widened her eyes in surprise. "Unbelievable....." He muttered, pulling out his phone to dial the one woman who might be able to help him. "Tanya, I need your help."