Baller (Heritage Bay Series Book 5)

by M. A. Foster

  “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make it out of this room.”

  I wiggle my brows. “You could always cancel,” I tease, knowing that’s not even an option.

  He shoots me a look that says “Are you crazy?” “I don’t think your dad would appreciate being stood up.”

  He wouldn’t. Dad will use any excuse to give Jake a hard time.

  While Jake gets dressed, I call my dad to let him know we’re on our way over. Hanging up, I slide my phone into the back pocket of my shorts and turn to Jake.

  He reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my ring finger. “Thank you for saying yes.”

  Emotion clogs my throat. Why can’t I let go and give this man my all? “I love you, Jake,” I breathe.

  He bends and kisses my lips again. “I love you, too, Vanessa. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Mornin’,” my dad greets as I climb the steps of the front porch.

  Coffee in hand, he’s dressed in a hunter green golf shirt with a palm tree and “University of Heritage” stitched in gold over his left pec, khaki shorts, and golf shoes. A set of clubs leans against the exterior wall beside the front door.

  I can’t help but grin. He’s so adorable. Scratch that. My dad is handsome. He’s tall at six-foot-four, and even at forty-eight years old, he still has a baby face. Hazel eyes that mirror mine and shimmer with affection every time he looks at me. His brown hair is cut short on the sides, longer on the top, and is graying at the temples. My mother had long thick strawberry blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and freckles. Except for my freckles, I look like my father.

  My parents met in college. Dad was on the baseball team, and Mom was studying to be a teacher. They were only dating a few months when Mom got pregnant with me. They were married for almost nine years before she passed away from pneumonia.

  “Morning, Dad.” I throw my arms around his waist and squeeze before letting go.

  His gaze moves over my shoulder to Jake’s Mercedes idling in the driveway.

  “Go easy on him today,” I tell him. “You make him nervous.”

  “Good,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Dad,” I chide, smacking him playfully in the stomach. “I’m serious.”

  “You going to the cemetery today?”

  My brows pinch. “Of course.” He knows I go to the cemetery every time I come to town.

  He nods before taking a sip from his mug. His eyes zero in on my ring finger. “Are you happy, Vannie?”

  At first, all I can do is blink. His blunt question shouldn’t come as a shock. My dad has never been one to hold back his thoughts, opinions, or otherwise, even with me.

  “Of course I am,” I snap. “Why?”

  He holds up his free hand. “Don’t get defensive. It’s a valid question.” He lowers his voice. “I found an old iPhone in your desk drawer. I turned it on, which means someone charged it recently.” He quirks a brow. “I wasn’t aware you’d kept it.”

  When Liam and I got married, he upgraded my iPhone and added me to his account. After we split up, I went out and got another phone. Liam never disconnected the old phone—I’m not even sure he realizes he’s still paying for it—but I kept it. It’s where I keep our memories stored and it’s one of the few things I’ve held on to over the years.

  My stomach flips. “It’s not—”

  “It’s okay,” he cuts me off. “I’m sorry for judging and invading your privacy. I was looking for an extra phone charger because Kelly took mine. I knew you kept extras in your desk. I saw the phone, and I was curious.”

  “It’s just…,” I start to explain, lowering my head. “There are a lot of memories on there. Stuff I’m not quite ready to let go of but also don’t want to see every day.” Only when I come home to visit.

  “I understand.” He sighs, scratching at the scruff along his jaw as an unnamed emotion crosses his features. It was fleeting, but I caught it. “I need to get going or we’re going to miss our tee time.” He holds out his coffee mug. “Would you mind taking this inside?”

  “Sure.” I take the mug, and he turns to retrieve his golf bag. “Dad?”

  He looks over at me, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

  “I hate that I ruined your relationship with him.”

  Dad frowns and shakes his head. “Don’t start, Vannie,” he warns lightly as he pulls the leather strap over his shoulder. I drop my gaze to the mug in my hand. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, you’ll always be my number one.” He gives me a sad smile before descending the porch steps only to stop short and twist around. “By the way, you have a new voice mail. I didn’t listen to it.” Then he turns back around and continues toward Jake’s car.

  My heart twists in my chest as I fight the urge to rush inside and check my old phone. Instead, I stand on the porch and wave at Jake, the man I love, the man who loves me, the man I agreed to marry. He blows me a kiss as he backs out of the driveway.

  Scratching on the other side of the front door pulls me from my thoughts. Turning, I grab the handle and press down on the lever, pushing open the door and stepping inside. I’m greeted by the sweetest face of my five-year-old labradoodle, Princess Buttercup.

  “Well, hello, pretty girl,” I coo.

  Setting Dad’s mug on the entry table, I drop my purse at my feet and fall to my knees. Princess B props her paws up on my shoulders and tucks her head under my chin, a trick I taught her when she was a puppy, and I wrap my arms around her.

  Anxiety weighs heavily on my chest as I pluck the old iPhone from the top desk drawer and press the Home button. Two notifications pop up on the screen: a missed call from “Baller” and a voice mail notification from “Baller.”

  His last message said he wasn’t going to contact me again.

  So why did he call?

  Sucking a deep cleansing breath through my nose, I release it slowly as I swipe a shaky finger across the screen and bring the phone to my ear.

  “Vanessa,” Liam breathes. The deep timbre of his voice shoots straight to my core, stirring up the butterflies that have been lying dormant for far too long. Goose bumps pebble my skin. “I swore the last time I called you would be the last time, but….” He sighs heavily. “I saw you tonight with your boyfriend.” My heart nearly springs from my chest. Oh my God. He was there? “Seeing another man’s hands on you fuckin’ gutted me.” He sniffs. How do you think I feel, asshole? “You’d think after five years, it wouldn’t hurt like this, but it does. I knew you’d moved on. I thought I had too… until tonight.” He sniffs again. Is he crying? “I love you, Vanessa. I don’t know how to stop. I hope you’re truly happy. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me.”

  Pulling the phone from my ear, I stab the End button before tossing it back in the drawer and swiping at the tears streaming down my face.

  Fuck him.

  He doesn’t deserve my tears.

  Not anymore.

  Not ever.

  During the two years of our relationship, Liam was thriving in the major leagues and I was working hard on my nursing degree. We were happy and in love, but the miles between us and the time apart definitely put a strain on our relationship. Liam was struggling with it the most, so when he came home during the off-season, I suggested we take some time apart. He refused. He said he couldn’t even stomach the thought. He wanted me to move to California. He even offered to pay for me to finish nursing school. I told him I needed time to think about it, but I would come for the summer and see how things went. My dad was wary, and I didn’t understand why. Dad loved Liam. I loved Liam. And I missed him.

  Looking back now, I realize Dad knew I wouldn’t be coming home.

  The night Liam surprised me with a trip to Vegas for my twenty-first birthday was one of the best nights of my life. We had drinks, we danced, we laughed. We were so in love. I told him I was staying in California so we didn’t have to be apart, and he was so happy. We got caught up in
the moment, we celebrated, and we eloped. It wasn’t planned. If anything, it was reckless. But for some reason, it just felt right.

  Until Milana Bedhi showed up and ripped the blissful rug out from under my feet.

  The fact that Liam kept his “friendship” with Milana from me meant there was more than just friendship. Do I believe he physically cheated? No. But cheating isn’t always physical. It’s emotional. Milana might have initiated the kiss, but Liam gave her no reason to think otherwise. Liam cheated, lied, and broke his promise.

  Cheating might be forgivable for some, but I am not one of those people.

  Yes, I’m stubborn, but I refuse to be anyone’s doormat.

  Liam promised me forever, and in return I gave up everything.

  For him. For our future. For love.

  And then he broke my heart.

  He broke my trust.

  He broke us.

  But life goes on, no matter how painful it is.

  I stare down at my old iPhone for several minutes. My gaze shifts to the ring on my finger.

  I need to let go. I need to let him go. And in order to do that, I need to forgive him. I know that’s what Liam wants, what he needs. But in order to forgive him, we need to talk. Then we both can get the closure we desperately need.

  I pick up the phone, take another deep breath, and type out a text.

  Can we meet?

  VANESSA

  The bell on the coffee shop door chimes as it swings open, and in walks Liam, sucking all the oxygen from the room and my lungs. Just about every head turns to gawk at the gorgeous man filling the space with his presence. Suddenly, five years doesn’t feel like enough time apart. My heart beats wildly in my chest like an excited puppy whose owner just returned from a long trip. A reminder that I will always love him, even though he destroyed me.

  What was I thinking?

  While struggling to catch my breath, I watch as Liam scans the coffee shop, seeking me out. When his gaze finally turns in my direction, I hold a hand up and wave him over.

  Keep it together, Vanessa.

  Since Dad and Jake are golfing in Magnolia Park, I figured it was better to meet Liam on his home turf in Heritage Bay.

  Patrons follow Liam with their gazes as he weaves through the tables, stopping a few times to autograph something or shake someone’s hand. Liam’s not just a famous baseball player, he’s also a Mackenzie, which is practically royalty in Heritage Bay. His father, Max Mackenzie, is a highly respected physician who owns a medical center here on the island, and his mother, Ella Mackenzie, is a well-known designer who’s been featured in dozens of magazines.

  Liam stops to chat with a few patrons sitting at a nearby table, and I use the opportunity to drink him in. He’s still as gorgeous as the day we met, a well-defined athlete, exuding an air of self-confidence I always found sexy. His black hair is tucked under a baseball cap, and those captivating green eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviators.

  A navy T-shirt with “BALR” printed across the front is stretched over his broad chest and arms, and a pair of worn jeans clings to his muscular thighs. It reminds me of the “Baller” T-shirt he wore our first night together. The one I stole from him and may or may not still have in my closet at Dad’s house.

  “Hey,” he says, pulling out the chair across from me. Removing his glasses, he hangs them on the collar of his shirt.

  “Hey.” I offer him a tight-lipped smile. “Good to see you.”

  Liam smirks, leaning with his forearms on the table, hands clasped. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  I shrug. “I’m not lying,” I say, leaning forward to wrap my hands around my coffee cup. I need to do something with my hands to keep them from shaking.

  Liam’s gaze drops to the diamond on my ring finger, and I tense. He doesn’t have to say anything. His flared nostrils and clenched jaw tell me everything. He’s pissed.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s been almost five years, Liam.”

  “I know.” He averts his gaze briefly before returning it to me. “Congratulations,” he says, practically choking out the word. “Who is he?”

  Releasing my cup, I ball my hands in my lap. “His name is Jake Peterson.”

  “Are you and Jake living in Heritage Bay now?”

  I shake my head. “No. We just came for… for dinner.”

  Liam narrows his eyes. “He proposed last night, didn’t he?”

  He was always so perceptive.

  “Yes.” My reply is nearly a whisper. Why do I feel like I did something wrong?

  “How sweet,” he drawls sarcastically.

  “Don’t be a jerk,” I snap.

  He shrugs as if to say “This is who I am.”

  Before this conversation turns into an argument, I change the subject. “What are you doing in town?”

  A wide grin stretches across his face, nearly touching his eyes. “Jay is getting married today.”

  How did I forget? The story has been all over the media as “the wedding of the year.” That explains the unusual amount of helicopters hovering over Heritage Bay this morning.

  “She can’t get married. She’s only thirteen,” I joke.

  A sudden sense of melancholy washes over me. I miss her.

  I spent a lot of time with Jay during that summer. She was a fascinating girl. Very mature for her age, beautiful, and talented like her father. She and I had a few girls’ nights when Liam was out of town. Sometimes we did pizza and movie night; sometimes we just hung out and talked. She told me all about Zach and that one day they would get married. Then I left without so much as a goodbye. She probably hates me.

  He breathes out a soft laugh. “She’s eighteen—almost nineteen.”

  I grin. “I can’t believe your baby is getting married.”

  “I’m not allowed to call her that anymore.” He rolls his eyes.

  “She’s a young woman now. I have to admit I almost wrecked my car the first time I heard her song on the radio. I couldn’t believe the voice coming through the speakers belonged to the same little girl who used to let me braid her hair and paint her nails.”

  “She’s going on tour,” he tells me.

  “I read that. I actually tried to get tickets, but they were sold out in less than an hour.”

  “If you really want to go, I can get you tickets,” he offers.

  “It’s fine. I have to work anyway.” I wave him off. “Why are they getting married here and not on that beautiful beach in Malibu?”

  “Because Marcus died there,” he says softly before clearing the emotion from his throat.

  I suck in a sharp breath through my nose, and a pang of sorrow hits me in the chest. “I’m sorry.”

  You had to be living under a rock if you didn’t know who Marcus King was. His death had rocked the foundation of the music industry. I’d read the “Life & Death of a Rock Star” interview in Rhythm & Riffs Magazine back in February. His story was beautiful and heartbreaking. But I didn’t need to read an interview to know what an amazing man he was. I knew Marcus. I’d had multiple conversations with him. I’d had dinner in his home, with his family. I knew the love he’d had for his wife and daughter. I’d witnessed it. Marcus and Emerson had the kind of love other couples envied.

  I thought I had that kind of love with Liam.

  I’d wanted to reach out to Emerson after the news broke about Marcus, but I didn’t know how. I felt weird after the way everything went down with Liam and didn’t know how she would react to my call.

  “How is Emerson?”

  I can’t even imagine what she went through. Even though I was only eight, I remember how lost and devastated my father was after my mother died. Losing the love of your life over a breakup is devastating, but to have to bury them is a whole other level of heartbreak.

  Liam’s lips pull to the side. “She’s doing well, actually. She and Cam are expecting a baby in November.”

  My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Oh? That’s—” I start to
say, “fast,” but think better of it. I don’t know Emerson’s story. And when did I become so opinionated? “What happened to Jules?”

  Something flashes in Liam’s eyes, and his expression goes from playful to hard. “They’re divorced.”

  “Oh.” I clear my throat.

  “They’re still friends,” he adds. “Jules owns a dance studio over in the square.”

  “That girl loved to dance.” I smile, remembering the night at the club in Vegas. We danced for hours. “Maybe next time I’m in town, I’ll stop over there and say hi.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to see you.” He taps his fingers on the table, bouncing his knee anxiously.

  “Your mom and dad are doing well? How are Max and his family?”

  “Everyone is great.” His eyes flick to the side as he shifts in his chair. It’s a clear sign that he’s getting annoyed with the small talk and ready to end this painfully forced conversation.

  I prop an elbow on the table, tucking my fist under my chin. “How about you, Liam? Are you happy?”

  “I’m living the dream,” he says, leaning back in the chair and clasping his hands behind his head, giving me a lopsided grin, his playful expression back.

  Judging by the tabloids, Liam is living his best life. Last year, several photos of him with a beautiful dark-haired mystery woman on his arm were posted on a celebrity gossip website. The photos were taken on the red carpet of a charity event in honor of Marcus King’s Mayhem Foundation.

  Since then, the two had been spotted together at various red carpet events such as the ESPYs and the Grammys, as well as lunch and dinner dates. The tabloids revealed her name is Dr. Jasmine Ramos. Neither of them has confirmed their relationship, but it’s obvious she’s someone special in his life.

  “But are you happy?” I press.

  “Are you?” he tosses back, quirking a brow.