The Perfect Play (23 page)

Elizabeth led her out the door and into the garden. The night was warm, but fortunately not hellishly so. Elizabeth walked over toward the fountain where a string of lights highlighted her red hair, which was expertly pulled up in what Tara decided had to be her trademark French twist. Pieces had been pulled down to frame her face. Elizabeth turned to Tara and smiled, but it was a calculating smile.

“Okay, Elizabeth, you got me out here. What about Mick?”

“I like Mick’s off time to be put to good use.”

“Which means what, exactly?”

“Charitable foundations, public events, premieres, galleries, anything where he can be seen and photographed. It’s good for his image and for the team.”

“And you think his relationship with me is getting in the way of that.”

“I’m glad you see things my way.”

“I’m not saying I agree with you, Elizabeth. I’m just saying I understand your meaning. I’m certain Mick can choose to do whatever he wants.”

Elizabeth didn’t frown, but Tara saw the flash of anger in her eyes. “Look, Tara. I’m sure he’s having a wonderful time with you and your son, but the appeal is going to wear off eventually, and he’ll move on. He’ll miss the glamour, the parties, the fun and excitement that he’s used to.”

Tara shrugged, refusing to let Elizabeth get to her. “And if he does, then I guess he will move on. That’s his choice to make when and if that happens. Or rather, it’s our choice to make as far as our relationship. Or do you expect me to kick him to the curb now in order to spare myself the heartbreak later?”

“He’ll leave you eventually.”

Tara refused to rub the ache in her stomach where Elizabeth’s words had created a hole. “So you say. And maybe he won’t. Maybe I can offer him something he can’t get anywhere else.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Tara, you don’t have enough to hold him, and he’s way too much of a playboy to settle down. You carry too much baggage and he can’t handle it. It’s only a matter of time. You should get out now before he hurts you. You have your son to think about, after all.”

What a bitch. No wonder she was so good at her job. She knew right where to stick the knife. “I think my relationship with Mick is none of your business.”

Now her eyes narrowed. “You don’t want me to make it my business.”

“You already have. Butt out.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, the anger leaving her expression and a bright smile replacing it. Tara could guess why.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been hunting you down and couldn’t figure out where the hell you’d disappeared to.”

Tara turned, already figuring out Mick had showed up. “Hi, there.”

He cast a worried gaze between her and Elizabeth. “What are you and Liz doing out here?”

Elizabeth strolled past, a plastic smile on her face. She patted Mick’s arm. “Girl talk, sweetie. I was complimenting Tara on what a wonderful job she did on your parents’ anniversary party.”

Mick relaxed his shoulders and cast a warm gaze at Tara. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”

Elizabeth kissed Mick on the cheek. “A peach.” She winked at Tara as she walked through he door. “We’ll talk again later, Tara.”

Mick’s gaze followed Liz, then he turned back to Tara. “What was that all about?”

Tara didn’t need Mick to intervene on her behalf, and the last thing she wanted was to cause friction between him and his agent. Elizabeth didn’t like her. So what? Tara could handle it. And if Elizabeth was right about Mick, then there was nothing she could do about it, was there? “Just chatting about the party and football. And you, of course.”

“Was she giving you a hard time?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. So, are you having fun?”

“No.”

Tara frowned. “Why not?”

“Because I couldn’t find you. Where’ve you been?”

“I’m the event planner, remember? Trying to make sure everything’s in place, and seeing that everyone is having a good time.”

His lips lifted. “My parents are having a good time, which is all that matters. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence stretched between them, and she hated it. “Mick ...”

He took her hands in his. “Let’s sit down.”

“Okay.”

He led her to the stone bench near the fountain, then sat next to her. She half turned to face him.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Tara.”

“Nothing’s bothering me, other than me needing to apologize to you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “For what?”

“For blaming my failures—and Nathan’s—on you. I was a mess the other day when Nathan got drunk. I wasn’t there when it happened, and for some reason I felt I should have been.”

He rubbed her hand with the pad of his thumb. “So now you’re supposed to be psychic?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. This parenting thing is hard. And doing it by myself all these years has been even harder. Sometimes I fail. A lot of times I fail.”

“Guess what? Even two-parent families fail. No one’s perfect at raising kids.”

She took a glance through the doors at Mick’s parents, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they slow danced. “Some manage to get it right without screwing up.”

“You think my parents raised perfect kids?” He tilted his head back and laughed, then got serious again. “I think there are a few things you need to know about me, Tara. I’m not perfect. Never have been and never will be. I made mistakes when I was young. I messed up. Bad.”

She crossed her arms. “I find that hard to believe. Look where you are now.”

“Right. But you only see the finished product. You don’t see what it took to get me here.” He looked around. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, but not here. Later, when we get back to the house. It’s important, and it has to do with your idea of perfection. And Nathan, too.”

She cast him a questioning look. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, but I don’t want to talk about it here where there are so many people. Can we table this conversation for later?”

“Sure.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Let’s go inside and dance. Show me your disco moves.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Oh, Lord. I might need some dance lessons from your mother before I attempt the hustle.”

He slid her hand in the crook of his arm. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

THIRTEEN

IT TOOK A LONG TIME FOR THE PARTY TO WIND DOWN. Mick’s family and friends could party all night long, but this time the venue hadn’t been booked for the duration of the evening, so they’d moved everybody out of the ballroom by midnight. As a gift to Mick’s parents, the kids had gotten them a suite at a very posh resort, so they’d already packed up and headed over there for a night in the honeymoon suite. Nathan was spending the night with Mick’s cousins again, which meant Tara and Mick had his parents’ house to themselves for the night.

Tara ran upstairs and changed, grateful to get out of her sole-killing high heels and the tight dress. She slid into a pair of shorts and a tank top, then came back downstairs to find Mick had done the same thing. He’d shucked the suit and put on a pair of to-the-knee cotton gym shorts and a sleeveless tank.

“Better?” he asked.

She sighed in relief. “My feet were killing me, so yes, definitely better.” She sank onto the sofa next to him.

“Want something to drink?” he asked.

“No, I’m good. How about you? Want a beer or something?”

There was something odd about the way he looked at her. “Have a bottled water here, so I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

She propped her elbow up on the back of the sofa and leaned her head in her hand.

“Tired?”

“I’m okay. How about you? You’re the one who ran ragged all day taking Nathan to the ball game and keeping him entertained so I could get everything set up. And then you helped with the party.”

“I didn’t organize the party. You did. And Nathan is never a problem, so stop apologizing for your son.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You do. A lot.”

She sat up. “Do I?”

“Yes. You make Nathan sound like an inconvenience to me, and he isn’t. If he was, I wouldn’t be with you. I knew almost from the beginning that he was a part of your life, Tara. I get that he’s part of the package, so stop apologizing for his existence.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. That’s what she’d been doing? Oh, God, it was. She’d been apologizing for Nathan, for having him, for him being in her life. “You’re right. I have been. I’m sorry.”

Mick swiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “You don’t have to apologize to any man that you have a son. He’s a great kid. You owe no one explanations or apologies for your life.”

She shuddered out a sigh. “I guess you’re right. I keep holding up other people’s childhoods and lives as examples of the perfection that I always found lacking in my own.”

“No one’s life is perfect, Tara. Not yours, not mine, no one’s.”

“So you say. Hard to see the imperfections through all the happiness sometimes.”

“You see what people want you to see, not what’s necessarily there.”

“You’re telling me your life wasn’t perfect. I find that hard to believe.”

He leaned back against the sofa and shoved his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I want to ask you. It has to do with Nathan.”

“Okay.”

“I’d like your permission to take him to a meeting with me when we get back home. I think it would be beneficial for him.”

“A meeting? What kind of meeting?”

“An AA meeting.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “Alcoholics Anonymous? Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you want him to go to an AA meeting? Nathan’s not an alcoholic. As far as I know, that was his first foray into drinking.”

“Did you talk to him about that night?”

“Yes. Of course I did. He understands what he did was wrong. And he felt terrible.”

Mick’s lips lifted. “Of course he felt terrible. He had a hangover. But that’s how it starts, Tara. One party, a lot of drinks. It’s social. It’s how they get accepted. Often it doesn’t stop there. I’d like him to see some cold reality.”

“I think that’s a little harsh, Mick.”

“Yeah, it is harsh. But it’s real. It’s not glossed over, and it’s not a sit-down lecture from his mother that he probably only half paid attention to. It’s never too early for them to hear what it’s really like when drinking gets out of control.”

“What do you know about AA?”

“Plenty.”

She cocked her head to the side and frowned. The way he looked at her, cold and straightforward ...

Then it hit her. “You don’t drink alcohol.”

His gaze never left her face. “No.”

“It has nothing to do with training, does it?”

“No.”

Her throat went dry as the realization of all these weeks together finally fell into focus. Her palms dampened, and she pulled her legs behind her, straightened herself up, and prepared herself for the truth. But she waited, not asking, knowing it had to come from Mick.

“I’m an alcoholic, Tara.”

The gut punch hurt. She palmed her stomach, was glad she was sitting, because the room spun. “How long?”

“Since I was a teenager. Still think I lived a perfect life?”

She didn’t know if she was angry or hurt, at him or for him. She forced back the anger because she needed to know, and because he had the guts to sit here and face her with the truth. She reached out to grasp his hand. “Tell me.”

“Just like Nathan, it started at football parties.” He looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought. “God, seeing him drunk at that party the other night—”

He dragged his gaze back to hers. “It was like seeing myself. I went back in time sixteen years, and there I was, shit-faced drunk and having the time of my life. I was invincible, cock of the block, popular as hell at fourteen. All the seniors invited me to their inner circle, and all I had to do to stay there was drink. Easy, right? Drink with the guys and you stay in the circle.

“I was desperate to stay on top, so I did whatever it took. I kept drinking. At first I hated it. It made me sick and it wore my body down. When you’re in football, staying in prime physical shape is everything to a guy. The last thing you want or need is a bunch of chemicals polluting your system. I was at war between what I knew was best for my body and what I wanted most of all—acceptance from those above me on the team.”

“You chose the team.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’d never had big brothers. I’m the oldest in my family. The responsible one, ya know? So when faced with someone older than me telling me what to do, I crumbled. I did what they said. I drank. And I taught my body to manage it all the way through high school and college. Because by then my body had learned to depend on it. So I gave it just enough to where I could still function at peak performance, but I could party, too. By the time I was a senior in high school I was rocking hard on the weekends, but I was the leader of the team. So I could tone it down somewhat and let the others pick up the slack, which meant I coasted by okay my senior year, enough to pick up that scholarship.

“But then college came around, and I was low man on the totem pole and it started all over again. I had to drink hard and party hard to fit in. By then I was already accustomed to doing whatever it took, so the daily drinking began. And the grades were easy to come by, so I spent a lot of time in college drunk.”

Mick paused, unscrewed the top of his water, and took a long drink. Tara released the breath she’d been holding, not wanting to say a word, hurting inside for what he’d endured.

“Anyway,” he said, replacing the top on his bottle of water. “By junior year of college the alcohol was starting to take its toll on my grades and my football performance. Coach started to notice it, and so did my parents. Once they started looking closer, it didn’t take them long to figure out I had an alcohol problem.”