by Alexa Martin
“Chris.” I try to stop him.
“No. Please, just let me say this.”
Wow. Please? Big step.
“All right, but I’m at work, so this can’t take long.” I glance at my watch and set a mental timer.
“Thank you.” I can hear him exhale a deep breath into the phone. “I’ve been thinking about the way I treated you. About the way things ended. I want to apologize. You deserved a lot more. You’re the best, most true person I’ve ever had in my life.”
#KnockMeOverWithAFeather
“I always knew it, but after being released from the Mustangs and not being picked up by any other teams, so many people have shown me their true colors. And I know if I hadn’t treated you the way I did, you’d still be standing next to me.”
“I would have. I didn’t love you for football, Chris. I loved you for you,” I say.
“I love you too, Marlee. I always have. It’s why I’m calling. I want another chance.”
I suck in a deep breath. “It’s amazing to hear you say those words to me. It really is. But, Chris, I loved you. I will always have love for you and cherish some of our time together, but I’ve moved on. I’m not in love with you anymore.”
It’s weird having such a personal conversation in front of so many strangers. People walking past me, oblivious to what’s going on in my life.
“It’s still Gavin, isn’t it?” He’s not accusing me. It’s like he’s stating the obvious.
“No, Chris. It’s me. I’ve changed. With or without Gavin, this is a decision for me.” I open the door to peek back inside and see our food has arrived. “It was great to hear from you, and I wish you the best, but this is where we should end things.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says. “Bye, Marlee.”
“Bye, Chris.”
I end the call and walk back toward my new boss and coworker, feeling a lightness I never knew existed.
* * *
• • •
“BYE, MARLEE!” LESLIE calls to me as I head out at five o’clock.
“Bye, Leslie.” I wave to her. “See you Monday.”
I hop on the elevator and take it from the fifteenth floor of our Manhattan office building to the ground level. I push out of the revolving door and am immediately swept up in the crowds constantly filling the New York City sidewalks.
I still haven’t adjusted to the humidity as it hits me like a wet slap in the face and my hair that I worked so hard on straightening early this morning instantly curls up. I don’t wear my headphones while I walk to the train here. There’s too much going on. The people talking on all sides of me, the street vendors yelling out the deals they have, the constant sounds of sirens and horns blaring, it’s music in its own right. Maybe I’ll tire of it one day, but not today.
The day after I arrived in New Jersey, I did nothing but ride the subway. I wanted to master it before my first day of work. And the last thing I wanted was to be late because I couldn’t find my way. Now, only a week later, it’s already feeling second nature. I mindlessly walk down the steps and into the terminal. I stand side by side with strangers who don’t even look up before filing onto the train.
But today, instead of getting off at my normal exit, I take it for three more stops. I get off with the other passengers clothed in their red and blue gear and follow them until we approach the fields where the Giants are stretching on the field before their evening practice for training camp.
“Who cares about the rest of the team?” the woman behind me says loud enough for anyone to hear. “I just want to see Gavin Pope’s ass in those pants. Yum-my.”
She’s not wrong about that. Nobody does a uniform justice like Gavin. I’m convinced if they did contracts based on asses alone, he’d still be the highest paid in the league.
Walking through the gates and fighting the crowd for a spot on the bleachers is another first for me. I’ve never had to do this. I’ve always been led to nice shaded seats with the rest of the family members. I’ve never had to put my game face on at training camp, but as I make my way to the one empty seat behind four guys without shirts and their stomachs painted, I think that might change too.
“I can’t believe we spent that much money on that pretty fuckboy. We could’ve gotten a quarterback who’s just as good for half the price. He better not blow our season over some bitch like he did for the Mustangs.”
Breathe, Marlee, breathe. There are four of them and one of you. Naomi and Lenny are back in Colorado. Do not start a fight.
“I know. Pope fucking sucks!” yells the guy next to him.
The people next to me roll their eyes and the people below them turn and glare, but nobody says anything.
Except me.
“Says the guys sitting in the bleachers covered in paint.” Dammit.
“What’d you just say?” the first loudmouth says. Incidentally, he’s also the one with the biggest gut. Correlation? I’m not sure.
“I said you sure are doing a lot of talking from your spot on the bleachers. Last I heard, the people who really know the game are on the field.”
If my intention was to fly under the radar, I’m failing miserably. Faces that were focused on the field are now turning toward me. People who wanted to say something to these jerks but didn’t start clapping for me. The support would be lovely, but it just further angers the men I already pissed off.
“And you know so much? You’re sitting on the bleachers too.”
“Yes, I am. I’m sitting here trying to enjoy watching men who actually know the game play it, and instead I’m stuck next to Al Bundy and foot soldiers who think because they played football in high school they know everything there is to know.”
I’ve used the Al Bundy reference before, but nothing is a more effective insult. As soon as the name comes out of my mouth, I win. I used Uncle Rico once, but I had to explain, which took away from the actual joke.
Like right now, Loudmouth is stuttering, trying to come up with a decent comeback, but looks like a fish out of water instead.
Mission accomplished.
“Well, well, well,” a loud, frighteningly familiar voice calls from behind me. “Look at you, causing scenes across the country. I bet after that little show, nobody would know you aren’t from here.”
I turn around slowly, eyes closed the entire time, whispering useless prayers that I’m not going to see the face I know belongs to that voice. When I can’t prolong it anymore, I count to three in my head and open my eyes.
“Donny.” I try to sound excited, but instead it sounds like my stomach hurts. “How are you?”
For real, God? I know two people in this state and you sit one behind me? I get that I don’t go to church often, but this punishment is excessive, harsh, and kind of cruel.
“I’m good. I got our boy . . . wait, sorry, got my boy back in NYC, my commission was fuckin’ out of this world, and I don’t ever have to step foot in that frozen tundra you call home.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost your way with words.”
“After that fuckin’ show you put on with those dickbags, you’re gonna say something about my language?”
Curse you, big mouth! I just had to say something.
“Whatever. They were being jerks, and I didn’t curse. There are kids around. Going two hours without dropping an f-bomb wouldn’t kill you.”
“It might and I don’t want to fuckin’ test it.”
I have no response for him this time. Sometimes, it’s better to say nothing. An idea I’ve heard many times before . . . from my mother . . . but don’t use often.
“Gavin know you’re here?” Donny says a few minutes later. I think he’s physically incapable of silence. He’s just so loud and the name Gavin draws the attention of the people sitting next to us, including loudmouth number one.
“Nope,” I hope
Donny will catch the hint and drop it.
“Why not? You fly all the way out here to visit and don’t tell him? When are you going back?”
“None of your business, Donny.” I know I should probably correct him and tell him I moved here, but I’m not sure which sounds more stalkerish, flying across the country to watch your ex’s football practice or moving across the country to the state you broke up with him for when he suggested it.
“Stick with me after practice, he’ll be thrilled to see you.”
I came to this practice with the notion of seeing Gavin from afar. I thought maybe being in the same vicinity as him would give me the courage to call him. Under no circumstances whatsoever did I think I would talk to him today. And the thought of it happening causes my palms to sweat.
“Um. No. That’s okay. I was actually getting ready to head out. Early morning tomorrow, you know how that goes.”
“You’re leaving tomorrow and you’re not gonna say hi?” Donny sounds kind of appalled, and I wasn’t sure anything appalled Donny. But it’s not my fault he’s jumping to conclusions, and it’s also not my duty to correct him. “And you just got here. I was sitting two rows up, I watched you sit down.”
“Stalker,” I mutter under my breath, desperate for any kind of focus change.
“Cut the bullshit, Marlee. Man up and say hi. What’s the worst that could happen?”
He could act like he doesn’t know me. Worse than that, he could acknowledge that he knows me and not be happy to see me. He could have another girlfriend waiting for him. I mean, I’ve been thinking about this for the last three weeks. I have about ninety worst-case scenarios running through my head. Of course, I don’t tell Donny any of them.
“Nothing. I have to get going. I wanted to swing by since I was in town. I did, he looks like he’s doing great, I’m leaving.”
I turn back around on the bleacher to grab my bag and when I do, loudmouth number one is staring at me with an expression I know well. You’d think the smug “gotcha” look would seem different on a three-hundred-pound man than it did on Courtney and Madison, but it really doesn’t.
“So that’s why your panties were in a twist, huh, babe?”
My lip curls in disgust at hearing him call me by the same name Gavin always did.
“You’re just pissed because I was talking about your boyfriend down there.”
“Let’s get this straight, babe. I wasn’t mad. I was annoyed because I came to watch football, not listen to a no-talent loudmouth bash the players he’s going to spend every Sunday watching for the next four months. You don’t sound like a badass when you insult them. You sound like a douchebag, and you were making my head hurt.” Not waiting to hear what else he has to say or the smart-ass comment that’s inevitably coming from Donny’s mouth, I toss my purse over my shoulder and make my way off the bleachers.
“Glad to see you haven’t lost your spunk, Marlee!” Donny yells louder than I’ve ever heard him before, which is saying something because he is always loud. And because whoever is running the big show from above has an obvious bone to pick with me, he does so at the exact moment the crowd goes quiet because of an injury on the field. So everyone, fans and players alike, turn their attention to me.
Even the quarterback with the remarkable ass.
He’s wearing a red jersey so the other players know not to touch him, but it’s like I’m a bull and he’s just pulling all of my attention. His mom must have broken him down because the hair that I loved so much is gone. He’s staring at me, bronze skin glistening with sweat, mouth open. We stand frozen, looking at each other for I don’t know, ten seconds . . . an hour . . . before my brain finally signals to my feet and I get the hell out of there.
Welp, I think to myself as I sit down on the train and text Naomi only minutes later, that most definitely did not go according to plan.
Forty-four
I go straight to my apartment, fully intent on gorging for the rest of the night on wine, junk food, and reality TV.
Unfortunately for me, however, I still haven’t gone grocery shopping, and I don’t have cable.
Typical.
But I do have a cell phone to order out and internet to download movies. And while I might not have ventured to the grocery store to buy essentials like bread and milk, I most definitely hit the liquor store around the corner and stocked up on wine. It’s called priorities, people, and I’m not questioning mine.
The sweet, newlywed couple next door told me about an awesome Chinese place that delivers, and today might be the fourth time I’ve ordered in the last five days. But they’re fast, affordable, and after an afternoon like the one I just had, that’s really all I could ask for.
Only thirty minutes after I order, I hear a knock on my door. They must have had my order waiting today because this is the fastest they’ve ever gotten here.
“Hold on!” I call from my favorite spot on the couch and grab the cash from my purse. “You were fast today.”
“You really need to use your peephole,” Gavin says when I swing the door open.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I barely manage to ask the question over the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.
“I saw you at practice today. Did you really think I wasn’t going to look for you after that? Are you going to let me in or are we going to do this in the hallway?”
I open the door wider, stepping out of the way, silently inviting Gavin in.
“Donny told me you’re flying back to Colorado tomorrow, so imagine my shock when I call Dre to find out where you’re staying and he tells me you’re living here now.”
I add Dre to #TeamTraitor and make a mental note to call Naomi later to bitch about her husband.
“Just to be clear, I never told Donny I was leaving tomorrow. You know how he is. He assumed and I didn’t correct him.”
“Why were you at practice today, Marlee?” There’s my Gavin, straight to the point.
“I wanted to see you.” I just didn’t want him to see me. But Gavin is in front of me, his large body filling my small space and if this is the result of him seeing me, I can’t pretend I’m mad he did. “I got a job in the city, and I’ve been thinking of you. Thinking about what you said when you left.”
“I didn’t leave, Marlee. You pushed me away.”
“I know I did. I was a mess.” I take a step back to prevent myself from doing something stupid, like jumping his bones. “I needed to finish what I started at HERS. I needed to know I could carry my own weight in a relationship.”
“I told you to come and find me.” He closes the space I created. “Is that what you were doing? Were you coming to find me or were you preparing to run again?”
“I . . . I . . .”
Gavin puts a finger in front of my lips.
“Take your time, Marlee. Because your answer matters.” He sounds as cool and collected as ever while I’m sweating bullets and worried I’m going to vomit all over his white sneakers.
I gather all the wits I have left, which admittedly, aren’t many, and take a deep breath before I answer.
“I was coming to find you.” I clasp my hands together. Even though he came here, I’m terrified he’s going to turn and walk away.
“Are you sure, Marlee? How do I know you’re not going to run from me again?”
“Because.” I look into his eyes. “I’m finally ready. I don’t need you, but I want you. And I love you.”
“Thank god.” His hands come around my waist as he lets out a nervous laugh. “Because I’m not sure I was going to be able to let you go knowing you live one block over from me.”
“Shut up. Again?”
“Yeah, again. It seems we can’t stay apart from each other no matter where we go.” He slowly drops his face down toward
mine. “You’re stuck with me.”
“I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be,” I whisper just before his lips touch mine.
As soon as his lips are on mine, finally, after four long, lonely months, my body wakes up. He lights up a part of me that fades away without him. It’s not that I’m not whole without him—I am. It’s just that with him—next to him—everything shines brighter.
Gavin doesn’t make my world, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t enhance it.
His lips trail down my neck the way I’ve dreamt about for so long. “I missed you so fucking much.”
“I missed you too.” I pull his head in closer, my fingers on his freshly buzzed head. “I like your hair.”
“Where’s your bedroom?” is his marvelous response.
“The door that’s not the one you came in through,” is my very helpful answer.
When all is said and done, we are laying on hardwood floors, and calling to see if they can try to deliver again since we were too preoccupied to open the door when they came.
#SorryNotSorry
* * *
• • •
“SO . . . I WAS thinking . . .” In my head, this felt like a really good idea, but now, getting ready to say it out loud, I’m already questioning myself. “Never mind.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Gavin pulls me on top of him, like the new angle will suddenly boost my courage. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing. It’s too soon.” We’ve only been back together for a day, and I don’t even know if we are together . . . just that we slept together. “Are we officially a couple again? Or am I jumping to conclusions?”
“Babe.” He smiles with his eyes crinkling at the corners. I have no idea what the one word means, but I’m pretty sure he’s laughing at me.
“Yup. Four months apart and I still don’t know what ‘babe’ means.”
“Marlee, you spent last night naked beneath me and on top of me before you fell asleep next to me. I went to practice because I had to, and then I came back and you were naked again. So yeah, babe, we are officially a couple. And as long as you don’t plan on running from me, I don’t plan on that ever changing.”