There it was, in black and white, her name and cell phone number.
I closed the email when I heard the sound of footsteps coming up from downstairs. “Thanks for coming over to scratch the itch.” I heard Murielle tell her trainer. “You always know just the right part to scratch.”
“If you caught an itch,” I said as I got up, both of their heads swinging around as they looked at me, “then I suggest you go get that checked out.” I headed to the stairs and walked upstairs to tuck in Jaxon.
As soon as he went to bed, I walked out of the house, closing the door behind me.
I pull up to her house and see the porch lights on and the black BMW parked in the driveway. I park behind her, and I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going to tell her, but I have to see her. I have to at least tell her something. She deserves that; to be honest, she deserves better than that. She deserves better than me. My phone rings, and my heart speeds up, thinking it’s Evelyn telling me not to bother coming. But instead, I see it’s Murielle.
“What?” I say, answering the phone.
“Where are you?” she asks, and I just shake my head.
“Is Jaxon okay?” I ask, and she huffs out.
“Okay, then bye.” I can hear sheets rustling, and I don’t bother saying anything else to her before I hang up. She calls me back again, and I know if I don’t answer her, she is just going to call me over and over again. “What is it, Murielle?”
“Don’t what is it, Murielle me. I’m your wife,” she says, and I laugh. “I have a right to know where you are.”
“I have a right not to have your trainer fuck you in our home, too. I have a right to ask you for a divorce. We can’t all get what we want,” I say. “Now if Jaxon is fine and sleeping, we have nothing else to say.”
“Are you fucking around on me?” she shrieks, and I laugh.
“I’m not that lucky,” I say and hang up on her. When she calls back, I send it to voice mail. I wait to see if she calls again, but instead, she just sends a text.
Murielle: We need to talk.
I walk to the front door and ring the bell. I look down at the concrete walkway and then look up when I hear her unlocking the door. The door opens slowly, and I see her. She is wearing a sweater that hangs down to her knees and tights. Her red hair is piled on top of her head, and I can see she has been crying. The tip of her nose is red, and her eyes are swollen. It is a kick in the balls.
So many things are going through my mind, so many things I want to say, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is her name. “Evelyn,” I whisper, the pain in my chest a bit more than I can bear.
“You have five minutes,” she says, and I know that I have to give her that.
“Do you want to do this out here or . . .?” I look around, asking her, and she opens the door to let me in. I walk in, and I can feel the hominess of her house. I look at the table with the black purse she was holding tonight. On it is a vase of roses, and I wonder if she got them herself. I wonder if she likes roses and what her favorite flower is.
“Thank you.” I look at her and wish I could kiss her. I put my hands in my pockets or else I’ll grab her, and then she will likely kick me in the balls and kick me out. And I want every minute that she will give me.
“I figured it would be better to keep it quiet,” she says, stepping away from me and crossing her arms over her chest. “Out of sight.”
“Before I say anything,” I say, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
As she laughs, I watch her, and something clicks into place, but I don’t know what to do about it. This whole week has thrown my world off.
“Sorry for what, exactly?”
It’s a loaded question. “For a lot of things but most of all for the way you found out like that.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Okay, not the best thing to say.”
“Why don’t I do the talking?” she suggests. “Whatever happened between us on Saturday,” she points at her and then me, “it’s between us. It will not go anywhere.” I take a step toward her, and she snaps. “You’re married!” she yells. “Married!” She puts her hands to her stomach. “Do you know how that makes me feel?” Her eyes turn a bright green, and I want to hold her face in my hands and kiss her lips and tell her everything, tell her every single fucking thing. “You cheated on your wife, and I helped you.” She shakes her head. “Married . . . you are married.”
It’s now or never. “I don’t tell anyone my business,” I say. “I’m the most private person you will ever meet. My name is Manning Stevenson, and I play hockey for the Dallas Oilers. I’m their captain.”
“Oh my god.” She puts her hand to her lips. “That’s why the bartender called you captain.”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m not on social media. I keep to myself, and the only time I do interviews is after the game or when it has to do with the foundation or children. That night when I went to the restaurant . . . I want you to know that what we had, what we shared . . .” I try to find the words.
“Was all a lie,” she tells me, and I see the tears in her eyes. “The whole week, I thought about you. The whole week, the only thing I regretted was not staying with you that morning.” She swallows, and I can see the one tear got out. “But now I regret it all. You made me be the person I hate most in the world. You made me a home-wrecker.” She puts her hands to her stomach.
“You are not a home-wrecker,” I say. “I swear to you with everything that I have, you are not a home-wrecker. Murielle and I . . .” I run my hands through my hair, scared to tell her, scared to see the pity that might wash over her face. Most of all, I’m scared she won’t believe me. But I have no choice because I will not let her beat herself down. “You are the opposite of a home-wrecker. There isn’t even a home to wreck.” I see the confusion on her face. “Are Murielle and I married?” The words are bitter in my mouth but not more bitter than the next word that comes out, “Yes. But . . .”
She shakes her head. “There are no buts,” she tells me and walks past me to the door, opening it for me. “Good-bye, Manning.”
Chapter 14
Evelyn
“Good-bye, Manning,” I tell him. My heart is not sure it can take much more of him being here. Standing here in front of me, knowing that he can never be mine. Knowing that he was never mine to begin with. Knowing that our night together was just another night for him.
I look at him, and he looks just as broken as I do, and I wonder why. Is it because he’s scared I’ll tell his wife? Is it because he’s scared I’ll tell my brother? “Everything that I told you last week was the truth,” he says. His voice comes out strong, and his feet don’t move toward the door. “Before Saturday, I was existing.” I look at him, not sure what he means. “Last Saturday was the first time in a long time that I put myself before anyone else. It was the first time that I saw that I deserve it. I deserve to have something for me.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I tell him honestly. “If you are worried about me telling anyone about us”—I shake my head— “I won’t tell anyone what happened between us.” I look to see if maybe he does a sigh of relief, but he doesn’t even flinch with this news. “Is that why you kept looking around on Saturday?” I ask as the pieces of the puzzle come together now.
“I kept looking around because one, I hate to be exploited, and two, I wanted to protect you and not have you plastered all over social media,” he says. “Do you know how amazing it was that you liked me for me?” he asks, and I don’t answer. “It just made everything.” His voice trails off. “Everything that night was perfect.”
“Do you know why I moved back home?” I ask, and he just looks at me. “Because I walked in on my boyfriend balls deep into his business partner while my best friend rode his face,” I tell him. “I’m that person.” I point at myself. “You made me that person. You.” I point at him, and then at myself. “You made me just like her. You made me that person I hate,” I tell him. “You made me a liar and
a cheater!” I shout. “I’m just as bad as her.”
“You are not as bad as her,” he tells me, and I roll my eyes. “You could never be that person.”
“But I am.” I put my hands up and then down again. “It was a lie,” I say softly, and that hits him more than what I said before.
“Nothing about that night was a lie.” He gazes at me. “Being in that hotel room with you. That was me. It was the real me. It was a me that no one has ever bothered to get to know. I wasn’t Manning, the captain of the Dallas Oilers. I wasn’t Manning, the guy who poses for pictures. I wasn’t Manning doing an interview. I was Manning, just the man.” I can’t say anything because of the huge lump forming in my throat. This was supposed to be me telling him to fuck off and calling him a cheater. This was supposed to be easy. I’m finally seeing that nothing is easy when it comes to him. “All week, I replayed that night over and over again. All week, it’s the only thing I could think of. You.” He points at me. “You were the only thing I could think of. Walking in and seeing you today was . . .” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, it was like seeing a fucking angel. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
“I looked for a ring,” I say. “After the second time we bumped into each other, the first thing I did was look for a ring when I came to the bar.”
“I never really wore a ring,” he tells me. “But I especially wouldn’t wear a ring now.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Four years ago, I asked Murielle for a divorce, and she . . .” He starts to say. “She took off with Jaxon for two weeks. I couldn’t find her, and I had no idea where she went. She took my son and just left.” His voice cracks. Oh my god. I see when he takes his hand out of his back pocket now and uses his thumb to wipe away the tear.
“I have never felt so helpless in all my life. She agreed to come home only if I would never mention it again.” He doesn’t stop talking. “I would have promised her anything just to get Jaxon back.
“She came back, and I sat down with her. I poured out my heart to her, asking her why she loved me. Why she even wanted to be married to me.” My hand falls off the handle. “She didn’t even know the answer. She sat there, and I waited. I waited and waited, and the only thing she could say was how it would look.”
He puts his head back. “Her main concern is how people would look at her. I asked her if she loved me, and she said she did, but then she couldn’t tell me why. I was honest with her and told her that I didn’t love her. I loved her for giving me Jaxon, but other than that, we were so opposite.” My mind reels at all this information. I’m expecting him to stop talking, but he doesn’t. “I begged her to let me go.” He swallows now as his voice cracks again. “But she refused. I moved out of my bedroom that night. From that day forward and well, many months before, I stopped touching her. We were married for the sake of people. We were married for show. For fucking show. Me, the one person who keeps everything to myself. I am living a fucking lie.” He looks at me. “I stay with her for one reason and only one reason, and that is for Jaxon.” My heart breaks for him.
“I stay for my son. I stay so she doesn’t drag my kid through shit. I stay to keep the peace. But in the end, pieces of me were dying.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t even know until I saw you.” His voice trails off. “Until I touched you. I was happy to just go through life and give everyone else what they wanted. And then I saw you.” He stares at me. “I saw you, and something in me jumped off the ledge.” He steps to me, and I don’t move or do anything. He stands in front of me, and the smell of him comes over me. “Something in me woke up.” His voice trails off, and he looks at me. I don’t know what to say. He just gave me his whole fucking heart on a platter, and I don’t know what to tell him.
“Manning,” I whisper, my heart breaking for him.
His hand comes up now as his thumb rubs my cheek. “You are not a home-wrecker. Don’t you ever put yourself down like that,” he tells me, my heart hammering in my chest. He stands so close to me that if I took one step forward, we would be chest to chest. “In fact, you saved me.” He bends down now, and I stop breathing with his lips right next to mine. “You were the one who made me see,” he says, his own breath hitching. “That I wasn’t dead inside.” He leans closer until there is no space between us, and his lips are on mine in the softest kiss he’s ever given me. His hand cups my cheek as he pulls back. “You, Evelyn.” My eyes flicker open, looking at him. “You are what dreams are made of.” I just look at him, his eyes almost pleading with me. I can’t say anything. Not a word comes out. The lump in my throat makes it almost impossible to say anything without a sob ripping from me, and his hand falls from my cheek. “I am over my five minutes,” he says, his voice sounding so defeated. “Thank you, Evelyn,” he says and walks out of the house.
I put my hand on my cheek as I watch him drive away. The tear rolls over my pinky all the way to the floor. My hand moves from my cheek to my lips as it still tingles with his kiss. I don’t know how long I stand here before I quietly close the door. I don’t even know why I was waiting for him to come back.
Something in me was hoping he would come back. I sit in the darkness and play his words over again in my head. “Four years,” I say into the darkness as one hour turns into another. “Loveless.” A shiver runs through me. “I was just me.”
I lie down on the couch, closing my eyes, and I hear his voice as if he is right beside me. You are what dreams are made of. I close my eyes as sleep takes me.
Chapter 15
Manning
You made me a liar and a cheater.
I hear her voice as if she is right next to me, and my eyes fly open. “I’m just as bad as her.” I look at my bedroom wall now. Then I turn to look at the ceiling, the heaviness in my chest is even heavier than last night, if that is even possible.
Driving away from her was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Watching her in the rearview mirror as she stood there holding the door. Her kiss still lingering on my lips. My hand itching to hold her face. My body aching for her.
My eyes close again, and I try to fall back asleep, but all I can hear is her telling me how she was this awful person, and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t let her stand in front of me like that and say those things about herself. For the first time in my life, I opened up to someone. For the first time, I didn’t hold back. For the first fucking time, I showed somebody that I wasn’t perfect, that my life was not what it seemed, and that I hurt just as much as everybody else. I wanted her to know that those hours with her were not a lie. Nothing we did was a lie.
I hear footsteps coming to my door, and I look over as the door opens slowly. “Hey,” I say to Jaxon as he comes running in the room and getting into bed with me. “Morning,” I tell him as he cuddles up to me. I put my arm around him and kiss his head. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” he says and leans over to get the remote to turn on the television. He puts Netflix on, and I get up to go to the bathroom. I wash my face and look in the mirror. The marks from last weekend are etched in my memory even though I can no longer see them. I raise my hand and touch the spot where she bit me. The memory rushes back so fast I can’t stop it.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked her as I carried her to the bed. It was one thing to attack her at the door, but I wasn’t going to fuck her again against the wall. Maybe the fifth time, I thought to myself. My mouth devoured hers as she shook her head.
“Condoms,” she said, stopping me from moving another inch. “Purse.”
I put her down on the bed. “I’ll get them,” I whispered to her, and I wanted the lights on. I wanted to see her face when I slid into her. I walked back over to the door where her purse was on the floor with the flap opened and the condoms sticking out. I bent over to pick them up, and when I went back into the room, she was completely naked. Her feet were on the bed with her legs tucked up to her chest and her ankles cross
ed. Her hair cascaded all around her shoulders. “You are beautiful,” I said as I kicked off my shoes and slid down my pants.
I tore off the corner of the condom wrapper, my cock hard and ready for her. I rolled it down and then looked at her. She lay back with her head on the pillows behind her and her legs spread eagle. I put my knee on the bed and made my way over to her, bending and licking her one last time before rubbing my cock up and down her slit.
“Perfect,” I told her as I watched myself slide into her. I took my time to savor every single second of it. Only when I was balls deep did I realize that I hadn’t taken a breath. She fit me like a fucking glove. Like she was made for me. I put my arms down beside her head as I moved in and out of her. I did it as slowly as I could until she kissed under my chin and then I slammed into her. The minute I did that, she bit me.
“Dad.” I hear Jaxon call me, bringing me back to the present. “Can you make me pancakes?” he asks.
“Yeah, buddy,” I say, walking into my walk-in closet and getting a T-shirt. I won’t go downstairs without my shirt. The last time I did that, Murielle rubbed her finger down my back and then put her palms on my chest. “Go brush your teeth,” I tell him, and he tosses the covers off and walks out of the room.
I pick up my phone, and I don’t know why I’m hoping to find a text from Evelyn, but I see nothing from her and delete the text I sent her last night. I also store her number under her father’s name. Walking downstairs, I start my coffee. I take some sausage and some turkey bacon out and get those started, then start making some pancakes. Jaxon comes down ten minutes later dressed almost like me. “You want some orange juice?” I ask him, and he nods, walking over to the fridge and pouring his own glass. “Want blueberries in yours?”
He shakes his head. “Chocolate chips,” he says, smiling.
“You play in three hours,” I tell him, and he slaps his head. “So blueberries?”
Only One Night (Only One Series 3) Page 8