Blindsided: A Sports Romance (14 page)

They weren’t lying. I drove home as fast as I could go without being pulled over by the cops, but she’s already gone by the time I get there.

There’s no note.

No anything.

I walk through the house. It was furnished when we moved in here, so I don’t know why it feels so empty without her. But that’s the way it feels, even though she had barely anything when she came. It’s the little things—her books are missing from the coffee table. Her baking stuff is gone from the kitchen.

The house is strangely silent. I miss the sound of her laughter and the steady
thunk
outside as Sam made the most of the long, bright evening and yelled for me to go play with him.

The bed in her room is neatly made. The closets are empty apart from her white toweling robe which must have come with the rental. I pull it off the hanger and lift it to my face. It smells like her. Pure Rose. Coconut and tropical fruits.

I sigh and throw it on the bed. Every instinct I possess tells me to run after her, but I know I can’t do that. I wouldn’t just be destroying my own future, I’d be ruining hers too. And Sam’s.

No, I need to stay away until all this is over.

I shuffle down the stairs, deciding that’s what I’ll do. I may not even have to wait until Coach and Charlie decide my marriage can end. All I have to do is hold out long enough for us to win the championship. Then my name will be worth something and I can start to talk to other teams. It’s not ideal—I love Denny and the guys like they’re my own brothers—but what else can I do? I want to be with this woman.

I throw myself on the couch and flick on the TV. The past several weeks are like a dream. I can’t believe how much fun I had with Rose and Sam. Now that’s all gone.

Normally around now, we’d be hanging out in the kitchen or on the back deck, watching Sam play. Thinking about it just makes me feel hollow. I get up and walk to the kitchen.

I open the cupboard and frown. It’s empty apart from one brightly-colored box. It’s Sam’s favorite cereal. I pull it from the shelf and open it. I frown. There’s a little square of paper sitting on the top. I pull it out and tear it open.

Jake.

You know now that there’s been a change of plan.

And that’s okay with me.

Let’s face it, it’s not like we have a future together. We’re too different.

Please don’t try and contact me again. It was fun while it lasted. Good luck with your marriage. I sincerely hope you two are happy.

Rose.

I stare at it, completely dumbfounded. Just a day ago we were happy. And now this. I’m so engrossed in my thought that the knocking doesn’t filter through to my brain for several minutes. By then, whoever it is is banging as hard as they can. I scrunch the note up and drop it in the trash.

***

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I say as I reach for the door handle.

A second later, when I’ve flung it open, I wish I hadn’t bothered.

“Hi, sweetie.” Darla stares at me, eyelashes fluttering.

“Hello,” I say through gritted teeth. “You got what you wanted. Congratulations.”

My wife. The complete stranger. How could I have been so fucking stupid? We even joke about this kind of thing in the locker room. It would have been better to pay her off, I think. Although if Manny decided that she was a risk, then maybe it would have ended up costing them a lot more in the long run.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she asks in her little girl’s voice.

It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes.

“It’s your house too,” I say, turning and walking back inside. “You can take the main house. I’ll stay in the guesthouse.”

The door slams closed behind her. “Wait, Jake,” she says, grabbing my arm. “I don’t know what you think this is. But I want us to work at it. I want this to be a real marriage.”

I spin around and find her looking up at me, full lips pouting. All I feel is disgust. “Darla, that’s bullshit. All this time you’ve been trying to blackmail me. And now you tell me it’s not money you want, it’s to work at this bullshit marriage of ours?”

“It wasn’t bullshit,” she whispers. “I just… I lashed out. When you didn’t want me.”

“Oh please.” I drag the words out, rolling my eyes. “You met me and saw dollar signs. Admit it.”

She shakes her head defiantly. Suddenly I don’t care anymore.

“I’ll be in the guesthouse. If you need anything, call the team.”

I stalk off. I’d give anything to have Rose back here, even if she was mad at me. But I know that’s not going to happen.

I run up the steps and let myself in the front door. Since they found out about our relationship, there have been photographers camped out at the gate. They’ve even taking to hiding in the trees that surround the property. So I’ve been careful to make it look as if everything’s real.

Darla and I spend our evenings eating and drinking at the most exclusive restaurants in town.

And all I can hope is that Rose has used her money to take Sam to Europe so she doesn’t see any of the pictures in the paper. Talk about a lie—I’m living the biggest lie of all now.

“Is that you, honey?”

I roll my eyes. “Save it, Darla. Those photographers might have telegraphic lenses, but there are no mikes. Okay?”

I plod into the living room and my stomach plummets at the sight of her. It’s only four but she’s already drunk. I can tell from the empty wine bottle on the table and the redness in her eyes. She’s wearing a silk robe that’s come apart to reveal a red lacy bra and panties more suitable for a strip club than for lying around at home. I’d take Rose in fleecy pajamas any day.

“I missed you, darling.”

I open my mouth to object, but there’s no point. Ever since we moved in together, Darla’s been adamant that she’s doing this for our love. I can see right through her, but no matter how often I tell her that she refuses to listen. At least I don’t need to worry about her being convincing for the cameras.

“Whatever,” I say, walking straight past her to the guesthouse door. “Be ready at 7. We’ve got a charity event. You know what’s happening tonight.”

“But Jaaaaake.” She drawls my name and it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

“Darla,” I say, spinning around.

She’s off the couch, standing before me with a challenge on her face. Her robe falls off her bare shoulder and I have a flashback of our night together in Vegas.

But that’s all it is. A memory. Half-formed if even that. I don’t want her. There’s only one woman I want in the world and I have no idea where she is.

“Come on, Jake,” she purrs. “You’re obviously under a lot of stress.”

I shake my head. “Yeah. The only stress in my life is this bullshit.”

“Let me see what I can do to help you unwind.”

It’s totally unlike me to turn down a free fuck when it’s on the table. But it’s not what I want anymore.

“Get dressed, Darla,” I call behind me as I’m about to close the door. “And drink some water. You’re not gonna look good in the press photos if you’re still wasted.”

***

We stand together awkwardly. The Grizzlies are one of the gold-level sponsors of the Montbatten research center, so Charlie hired a bus to take us all here. The entire team stands there, plus wives and girlfriends. But all the press wants is me and Darla. Ever since those photos ‘leaked’, they can’t get enough of us.

I smile as widely as I can manage.

Apparently that’s not enough.

Behind me, Coach leans forward. “Make nice, Jake. If you don’t make this look real I’m gonna make sure Manny and the others bury that contract of Rose’s.” I look around. It’s clear to me that nobody else has heard him. Their smiles look genuine. Mine needs to too if I’ve got any chance of keeping the press fooled.

I glance back at Coach but he’s deep in conversation with Charlie now. I want to reach back there and shake the shit out of him. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t use Rose as a way to blackmail me into doing what he wanted. Would he?

Of course he would. I stare ahead at the cameras, smile frozen on my face. I know this is all my own fault and I’ve got nobody else to blame, but I can’t believe how well they’ve played me. They’ve really got me by the balls on this one.

I feel his thick fingers dig into my back. He might as well have hissed ‘dance monkey, dance’. I’ve got no choice.

I pull Darla to me and kiss her shocked face, even though every bone in my body wants to pull away and wipe the smear of neon pink lipstick off my face.

No half measures.

“Darla Danza,” I say, carefully controlling my tone. I’m used to telling her to fuck off out of my space, not proposing to her in front of the national press.

Quiet falls over the crowd as if they’ve sensed what’s about to happen. Of course, we’re already married, but nobody knows that yet. Manny Blackmore has probably pulled strings to keep that fact buried forever.

She smiles up at me, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I have to give her that—she’s a great actress. “Yes, Jake?”

I reach in my pocket for the little velvet box Coach presented me with earlier today. No wonder I’ve been in such a foul mood all day.

I pretend she’s Rose and smile at her as if she’s the most precious thing in my life.

“Darla,” I say again. “I love you more than life itself.”

Personally, I think all of this is a bit dramatic for a football player, but Jackson seemed proud of his creation. I tried to object but found myself overruled by Charlie and Coach Fox.

I think about crossing my fingers behind my back, but I’m not that stupid. No doubt one of the dozens of cameras would catch it and have it broadcast around the country within minutes.

Then I get down on one knee. The crowd goes crazy.

“Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Darla is word and action perfect. She clasps her hands together and turns to the cameras as a single tear streams down her cheek.
Goddamn it
is all I can think. If it wasn’t for a stupid drunken decision I made not so long ago, it would be Rose standing here with me. And I don’t know about her, but this would have been genuine for me.

“Yes,” she gasps, through overwrought sobs.

I think about our plays. We need to work on getting a few of the guys up to speed if we have a hope in hell of getting a place in the final.

I stand and pull her into my arms. “Oh, darling. You’ve made me the happiest man on earth.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. I focus hard on running through the most complex plays in my head to keep from storming away from there and walking all the way home.

The crowd around us bursts into spontaneous applause and I cringe at the sound. Rose was right all along. There’s something sickening about lies. But she doesn’t get it. Sometimes you have no other choice.

“Damn it,” I mutter, almost knocking over a pile of Sam’s toys as I rush out my bedroom door and into our tiny living room.

This place is nothing special, but it’s more spacious than our last apartment. And there’s even a small garden area all of the condos share that’s perfect for Sam. The neighbors don’t like him playing ball, but there’s a park nearby.

“Sam, what did I tell you about putting your toys away?” I yell.

He pops his head out of his bedroom door and stops. “Mom, are you okay?”

“Yes, honey. I’m in a hurry is all. I’ve got a job interview this morning.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“It’s just… you don’t look so good is all.”

I turn and look through the open bathroom door. He’s right. My face is pale and drawn. My eyes look deep-set and glazed.

I shouldn’t look like that. Not now that Sam and I are set up for life. As soon as those million dollars cleared into my account, I put the money straight into a high-interest account. If we’re careful, we should be able to live off the interest for several years as long as I can get a decent paying job to top us up. Then the bulk of the money will be more than enough to pay for Sam to go to any college he wants.

Which right now is the University of Greenboro, just like Jake. I swear he’s become obsessed with the guy ever since we lived with him. Too bad I’ve been warned not to approach him again or risk losing Sam’s future. But that doesn’t matter. All our financial worries have been taken care of.

As for why I look like shit? I don’t know. I just haven’t been sleeping properly lately, I guess.

Sam watches me closely.

“Maybe you should try dating,” he says solemnly.

I turn to face my baby. It feels like only months ago since I held him in my arms. Now he’s giving me life advice? I can’t help but smile.

“I don’t have time for dating, honey. I need to find a job that’ll fit around my college hours.”

This past month I’ve been busy. I’ve had to be. I never expected anything to come of my admission tests for Greenboro Community College, but they accepted me.

“Happiness is important.”

I snort with laughter and pull him to me, shuffling his messy blond hair.

“Mom. Get off me.”

“I can’t help it, kiddo. You’re just too cute.”

He groans. “I’m late for school.”

“Oh so
now
you care about school,” I say, mussing up his hair some more.

“Mom. Stop. You’re sooo annoying.”

“Okay. Okay. It’s difficult, though. Like I told you. Just too cute.” I pretend to reach for his hair again and he glares at me. “Give me two minutes to fix my hair and I’ll walk you to school. My job interview is nearby.”

He nods and walks back to his room.

I pause at the mirror and grasp my stomach. I’ve felt unsettle the past couple of days. At first I thought it was something I ate. Now, it seems to have triggered again at the mention of Jake. Either way, it’s not good. I don’t have time to be unwell. Part of me wonders if it’s mental, like walking away from Jake has had a real physical effect on my body.

“You did the right thing,” I whisper to my reflection. “How would you have felt in ten years if you’d had to tell Sam there was no money in his college fund?”

I stop and run my middle fingers beneath my eyes. I’m going to need some industrial-strength concealer if I have any hope of fixing those dark circles. Luckily, Van has left her makeup bag while she travels on business. I open the drawer and rummage inside.

Van’s been staying with us for the past couple of weeks—at least her stuff has been. She’s been traveling for business for weeks now. Ever since she found out about what Jackson did, she hasn’t been speaking to him. I begged her not to break up with him because of me, but she said it was really just the final straw in a long series of bad behavior.

I smear on some of the thick concealer and try to blend it in. I’ve always been hopeless at makeup.

“Mom, come on. I’m gonna be late.”

I give up and wipe the thick gunk off with a cloth. I settle instead for highlighter, brushing it on my cheeks and hoping I don’t look like a clown.

***

“Mom, look. There’s Jake,” Sam says, before clamping his hand over his mouth.

“What? Where?” I ask, equal parts hope and dread rising inside me. How do I explain to my eight-year-old that I’m not allowed to even be in the same room as his idol or I’ll risk losing the roof over our heads?

Luckily, though, he points to a newsstand outside his school gate. Well, I consider that a good thing for about a minute until I see the headline.

Lucky Mrs. Thorne.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“What? Don’t be, kid. I’m happy for him.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me either. The sight of Jake in glossy close-up, holding an open ring box with a bedazzled look on his face… It’s too much. But I can’t hide my feelings. I’m too busy trying to swallow back the bile that’s risen in my throat. I look around desperately for… something.

“Go, Sam,” I say, pushing him forward.

The gate is in sight and I really don’t want to have to do this. Luckily none of the other moms are around to witness this—sometimes there’s a lot to be said for running late.

“But Mom…”

I’m out of time. I push him toward the gate and rush back, holding my hair back as I retch into the trash can. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life, but I’m glad of two things. No one else was around to see and for once Sam has obeyed me and headed for school. I rummage in my purse for a tissue or napkin or something to wipe my face. Not only do I find an unopen pack of Kleenex, but I stumble on a mint from a Chinese restaurant. At least I’m not going to turn up to my interview smelling like vomit.

It’s the small mercies, right?

***

Let’s face it, I probably still smelled. But the interview went well considering I had to run three entire blocks to make it there in time. My stomach bubbled dangerously all the way there but thankfully there wasn’t a repeat of the fiasco outside of the school.

And I feel fine now. More than fine.

I think I aced it. The face-to-face interview itself was short and to the point. Most of the time had been taken up with typing speed and accuracy tests. That’s one thing my years at the Greenboro Court prepared me for. I’m used to manning a desk while taking phone requests from guests. I can speedtype with my eyes closed—Marcus would have bawled me out if there’d been any mistakes with guest requests.

It doesn’t pay all that well, but I don’t need it to. We have our financial cushion. This is extra, something to keep us going and build up even more of a buffer.

I walk home briskly, feeling happy for the first time in several weeks. It feels like everything is coming together. Van is due back this afternoon and I feel like opening a bottle of wine and celebrating. I know it’s premature, but maybe we can celebrate me doing my first job interview ever. Hopefully I actually get the job too.

My stomach lurches as soon as I enter our apartment building. I clamp my hand over my mouth and rush to the elevator. This time, I can’t explain the nausea. I was just walking along, not thinking about anything in particular.

Thankfully, the elevator car is here so I don’t need to wait too long. The doors slide open and I jump inside, slapping the doors close button almost as soon as I’ve crossed the threshold. I take deep breaths through my mouth and count the seconds.

The doors open. I rush along the corridor to our apartment. I’ve already fished the keys from my back. There’s something so familiar about all of this but I’m in no position to think about that now. There’s only one thing on my mind now—getting to the bathroom in time.

I burst through the door and slam it closed behind me, even though I’m always telling Sam not to do that. I rush through and blast into the bathroom just as I can’t hold back any longer.

***

Exhausted, I stay sitting on the bathroom floor just in case another wave comes over me. I wonder if I should go see a doctor. There’s no reason for me to be sick like this. It’s weird. I hope there’s nothing wrong.

I stand and run the water until it’s cold. I splash my face. It feels nice, even though I’m not running a temperature or anything. I look up at my reflection. If they hire me then I know for sure they’re not judging me on my appearance. That’s nice.

Something strikes me then and it’s like all the heat drains out of my body. It’s the most powerful sense of déjà vu. It’s like I’ve literally been here before. I stare at my reflection in horror. The tiredness. The upset stomach. The nausea.

I gasp.

Oh.

My.

God.

And I know then. I don’t need to pee on a stick. I’m pregnant.