Fourth and Inches

by Kata Čuić

  As much as that stings, I can appreciate her hesitance to be seen at Rushers’ Stadium anytime soon. “I can’t stop you, even though I don’t like it. At least you’ll have Byers with you.”

  “Yeah.” She picks at the hem of her shorts. Her anxiety is palpable in the air. “What else did you want to talk about?”

  I take a deep breath. Treading lightly here is a must. “Fear: you’re going to become addicted to pain pills without even knowing it. I don’t want that to happen. I want to see what other treatment options your specialist has in mind.”

  “I’m honestly getting worried about that, too,” Evie admits. “Dr. Parsons said my next option would be surgery.”

  Justified fear grips my throat. “You promised you wouldn’t go through with the surgery until our bet was over.”

  Evie sighs, then sinks her petite body into the couch cushions. “Not the hysterectomy. Basically, she would go in, remove all the excess tissue and wait and see how long until it grows back.”

  Oh. I remember reading about this treatment option during my research. “Why do you not sound happy about this?”

  Evie aims a glare at me. “Because she said when, not if. And because my case is so bad, laparoscopy might not be possible. It would be actual open surgery, which has a much longer recovery time. It might buy me a few good years, but again…because my endometriosis is so severe, it will likely recur. And surgery doesn’t guarantee fertility.”

  “But, it’s a shot.”

  Evie rolls her eyes. “I guess.”

  My role is clear. “What will it take to convince you to schedule the surgery?”

  “Seriously?” she scoffs. “Are you trying to make this an addendum to our bet?”

  “The terms of the bet were for you to give the doctors a year to try anything to help you. I don’t need an addendum. I need to know what you want from me to make this happen.”

  “Rob,” she draws out. “This isn’t about you.”

  Oh, yes, it fucking is. The sooner she’s completely healthy, the sooner we can both get on with our lives. “Either you tell me what you need me to do, or I’m going to guess and probably get it wrong, anyway.”

  “The season is just starting. You can’t be home taking care of me, post-op.”

  “Our moms know everything now. There’s no reason they can’t trade turns being here. What else?”

  She chews on her lip. “It’s only a matter of time until the media gets wind of me being here. We don’t know how your dad’s going to react to us being married. I don’t want either of those parties getting hold of this information and spinning it for their own purposes.”

  That’s fair. This is personal. Just like the assault should have been. “Byers and Shawn will keep it quiet. That’s what they get paid for. Anything else?”

  She lifts her eyes to mine. Those beautiful pools of blue are full of sadness and hesitation. Everything I don’t want to see there.

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  Fuck that. Hope is all I’m living on these days.

  “Ugh. Show me again. Just once more. I’ll get it this time, I promise.”

  I can’t help but laugh at Alyssa’s frustration.

  It’s not so funny how I left her high and dry during her honeymoon when I fled the city for the refuge of Rob’s place, though.

  “I’ll tell you what.” I gently nudge her out of the way and take her seat, my fingers already flying over the keyboard to input the formulas which will sort out this mess of a spreadsheet. “It’s my fault the files are a disaster. I’ll fix it. You worry about getting some fresh meat in here, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Though my gaze is fixed on the screen, the incredulity which is surely on Alyssa’s face bleeds out into her voice. “I thought you were only in town for a visit? You make it sound like you’ll be staying a while. Trouble in paradise?”

  As much as I’ve kept my problems to myself in the past, this particular conundrum is gnawing away at me. I don’t want to talk to Cathy about it; she’ll only insist I meet the challenge head-on, and I’m not ready to do that. I can’t discuss it with my family because their objectivity is non-existent.

  Through college, I formed fake friendships while letting the real ones I’d never appreciated during high school fade away. I’ve honestly missed having a girlfriend to confide in, and I have no one to blame for that but myself. If I want to reclaim the closeness Alyssa and I used to share, then I’ll have to take it back.

  By finally offering myself up as a sacrifice.

  “I think Rob has a girlfriend. Or, I guess, a mistress, in this case? Technically?”

  Alyssa cackles so loudly, I jump in my seat. Only after several minutes of her gasping for breath does she realize I’m not laughing, too.

  “Oh, shit. You’re serious.” She rolls a stool next to me, then plops down onto it. “Spill. What makes you think he’s cheating?”

  “I don’t think it’s cheating, per se. I get the feeling he had a relationship with someone before we stumbled back into each other’s lives, but he’s trying to keep it to himself until our bet is over.”

  Honestly, if he’d just admitted that to me when I thought another woman’s clothes were in his house, I would’ve understood. It’s his blatant lies to my face that hurt the most—his professions of love, the way he finally doesn’t hold himself back from me in bed.

  It doesn’t make any sense, but there’s no denying what I heard.

  “He’s been sneaking around, answering phone calls late at night.”

  “Have you checked his caller ID?”

  What is this? A soap opera? “No. His cell phone is his. I’m not going to snoop around just to satisfy my suspicions.”

  Alyssa shrugs. “Okay, then explain to me why you have these suspicions in the first place. I know you. Rob taking a few late-night calls wouldn’t be enough to make you think he’s cheating.”

  “It’s not cheating,” I emphasize, then rethink my statement. “If anything, I think he’s cheating on her with me. Like I said, I believe he put their relationship on hold until I’m out of the picture.”

  “Your stupid bet aside,” Alyssa rolls her eyes, “you’re still not telling me why you think any of this.”

  Alyssa has not been a fan of this bet ever since I explained to her all the reasons I left New York for Sacramento. She thinks Rob should be held accountable for his own actions and life, and that he should get his shit together because it’s the right thing to do, not because he’s essentially blackmailing me into doing the same.

  “I overheard most of his conversation before my trip. From his end of it, they were arguing about whether or not to tell me about them. He kept saying he didn’t want to mess up me getting my life together and mentioned something about only five more months until the bet was over.”

  “That’s insulting,” Alyssa scoffs. “He makes you sound like a child who needs someone to hold her hand. Your life is fine the way it is.”

  Um, okay. I thought the insulting part was having me in his home while his SO is left out in the cold until I leave.

  “Uh, no, it’s not.” It’s my turn to scoff. “He has every reason to treat me like the hot mess I am.”

  She jerks her head back in surprise. “How do you figure?”

  “Let’s see.” I tick off very valid reasons on my fingers. “I no longer have a job. I never went to grad school or did anything with my degree. I don’t really have any friends, you excluded.”

  She smirks at that.

  “I’m basically buying time until I can have a full hysterectomy and fulfill my original plan from high school to become a single crazy cat lady.”

  Alyssa points to the computer. “And yet you waltzed in here and saved the day with only a few clicks of the mouse pad. You have a skill set any employer needs. Grad school doesn’t necessarily mean a better job, but it does guarantee more debt. And who cares if your plan is to become a single crazy cat lady? If that’s what you want, then go fo
r it. Most people live their whole lives without having a plan, so you at least have a leg up on the majority of the population.”

  “Seriously, did you miss the part where I told you Rob has a girlfriend, and I’m in the way?” How are her priorities in this mess so skewed?

  She waves me off with a rather elegant flick of her wrist. So artsy. “I’m ignoring that part. That’s just your insecurities talking. That man has been in love with you since freshman year of high school.”

  How did everyone know about that except me?

  “I’m not implying he doesn’t love me, but love takes many different forms. I think he really believes he’s helping me and doesn’t want to interfere with that.”

  A mischievous gleam sparks in Alyssa’s brown eyes. “So, don’t give him a reason to.”

  “Don’t give him a reason to what?”

  “If you think he’s only keeping you around to help you, then help yourself. Don’t wait for him to bait you into it. You need to do things for you, not for anyone else.”

  God help me if Cathy and Alyssa ever corner me at the same time.

  “You know what you need?”

  I’m sure she’s going to tell me.

  “A girls’ night out in the city. Hell, I need one, too. It’s been nothing but the newlywed game since the wedding. If I don’t get away from Jeremy soon, our marriage is going to be extremely short lived.”

  That’s surprising to hear. “How are you just now sick of him? You’ve been attached at the hip for the past nine years. Please tell me marriage isn’t going to be a jinx for you two. You’re my power couple. If the Quentins don’t make it, there’s no hope for marriage anywhere.”

  “Because we’ve been together so long, I can tell you with absolute certainty the key to making any relationship last is time apart and having your own separate lives when you’re not together.”

  A snort escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but Rob is going to be a ghost during the season, and that’s definitely not going to matter. Once this bet is over, I’m out. I hate being the object of his pity.”

  The smile that spreads across Alyssa’s face sends shivers down my spine. “So, don’t be that. Be the object of his lust instead.”

  I’m so tempted to bang my head off this desk. “Again, did you miss the part about the secret girlfriend?”

  “Nope.” Alyssa rises from her perch and slams her laptop closed, narrowly missing my fingers. “I heard you loud and clear, Dream Girl.”

  Oh my God. That stupid nickname is never going to die.

  “Your security guy can’t take his eyes off you,” Alyssa shouts over the thump of the bass in the club.

  “Well, duh.” A tipsy giggle works its way out of my chest. “That’s kind of his job.”

  Her low moan cuts through the music. “He is so, so good at his job. If a guy who looked like him was looking at me like that, I’d be begging Jeremy for a hall pass.”

  I cast a glance over my shoulder at one of the new backups Byers insisted on bringing along for our night on the town.

  I’ve never met the guy before, but if Byers trusts him, then I guess I have to, as well. I hope Alyssa’s wrong and he isn’t thinking of mixing business with pleasure. Not only would that be completely ineffective security, but he’s not even a little attractive to me.

  Guys with muscles on top of muscles have never been my type. And this particular security dude looks like his biceps want to bust out of his overly tight black t-shirt. Yuck.

  Rob grew on me before he grew into his powerful body.

  I gape at her with wide eyes when I feel her grind against me. “How drunk are you?”

  “I could be drunker.”

  “Then, what are you doing?”

  “Giving our friend a good show. Come on, Evie. We’re two gorgeous women in the city without any men to drag us down. Live it up!”

  Her assessment of the situation isn’t necessarily wrong.

  And what’s better?

  I feel gorgeous tonight.

  I’m only twenty-three years old, but I can’t remember the last time I went out and had fun just for the sake of it. Makeup done the way I like it, curls looking surprisingly on point for the city’s summer humidity level, and clothes that let me breathe while still clinging to my skin in the most seductive way.

  Tonight, there’s no one to impress, no mask to wear, others’ feelings aren’t a consideration.

  It’s just me, my closest friend, and the music.

  And, oh the music.

  It used to be such a huge part of my life. I feel the loss of playing, of singing, every day.

  Like a piece of me is gone, never to return.

  Instead of mourning the loss, I let the music flow through me. The caress of my long-lost lover carries no expectations, no demands for reciprocity. There’s no reason to feel inferior because I submit completely to its seduction.

  Losing myself has never been so easy.

  “You know what we need?” Alyssa yells. Right. In. My. Ear.

  “About five more days on this dance floor?”

  Or a lifetime…

  “Shots!”

  For a New York City transplant, she muscles her way to the bar with surprising ease. Flagging down the overworked bartender is another matter. Her shouts go unheard over the din of the packed club and speakers. For all her tenacity, she’s too short for her waves to be seen over the crowd which packs in around us.

  “What’ll you ladies have? Drinks are on us.”

  Alyssa and I turn in unison toward the smooth voice, offering to be our savior.

  His appreciatively roaming gaze gives me the creeps, though his friend seems less threatening. He offers us a small wave and almost dorky smile which seems appropriate for his overall nerdy chic appearance.

  Still, we don’t need to be sending anyone the wrong message. “Oh, that’s okay. We’ll just wait our turn.”

  An elbow to my sternum nearly makes me cough up blood.

  “Shut up,” Alyssa hisses at me.

  “Why? We’re married. They’re angling for a pick up.”

  “Our husbands would appreciate us saving them some money,” she retorts quietly enough for the waiting men to not overhear.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind her my husband is a millionaire, but then I remember he may be spoiling someone else while I’m away.

  So, I clam up and plaster on a fake smile, even though the feminist in me hates the idea of using these guys for free drinks.

  Hey, equality works both ways as Rob would say.

  Still, I’m eager to get back the euphoric feeling I had on the dance floor, and if these guys can help us get drinks sooner, then I’m on board with that.

  “Move along, gentlemen. These women are spoken for.”

  Just as I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief, the newbie on my security detail presses his hard chest against me, overly selling the ruse.

  I don’t get a chance to tell him to back off before his lips are at my ear. “Mrs. Falls, we need to go. Now.”

  Alyssa giggles. “Mrs. Falls. Ooh. So proper.”

  She might think he’s being cute, but I’m annoyed.

  I deserve this night out, dammit. Especially knowing my name is the biggest ruse of all.

  I round on him and press my painted nail into his wall of a chest. “Unless Byers calls the game, we’re staying.”

  For claiming she wasn’t drunk before, Alyssa sure is all chuckles over this scene.

  New guy taps his ear piece. “Byers did. I’m following orders. This way, please.”

  We’re basically manhandled out the back entrance to a waiting spook-like SUV.

  All the fear I had the last time I fled this city is nowhere to be found.

  Until Byers hands me pictures from his position in the front seat.

  Oh, shit.

  No matter how hard I try, I can’t keep anger from rolling off me in waves. Evie cowers at the doorway, and tha
t only pisses me off more. The pictures spread all over the coffee table aren’t helping.

  Evie looking more gorgeous than any woman has a right to.

  Evie and Alyssa plastering their bodies together in a way that makes my dick twitch in my pants, in spite of my rage.

  Evie surrounded by sweaty men who must have felt the same about her spectacle.

  Evie at the bar, two thirsty assholes obviously offering to buy her and Alyssa’s drinks.

  Byers and Shawn flank the couch, but they don’t dare get close to me. They can feel it, too.

  I’m about to explode.

  “As soon as they hit the internet, I texted Byers,” Shawn offers.

  “We did everything by the book,” Byers interjects, his tone baffled. “I called in extra guys to account for the kind of security the Big Apple requires. I don’t understand how this happened.”

  I do.

  Five trained, armed men can take down a physical threat because those are easy to spot. Social media is an innocuous enemy of another sort.

  “I’m sorry,” Evie puts in, strangely without tears. “I never meant to embarrass you this way. It was just harmless fun, nothing like what they’re spinning it to be.”

  “The spin is the key.” Shawn rifles through the stack of pictures with one hand while scrolling on his phone with the other. “They know who you are. They knew where to find you. It’s obvious every picture and caption is taken out of context.”

  Byers and Shawn exchange a knowing glance, but it’s Byers who speaks up. “We have a leak.”

  Yeah, and I have a pretty damn good guess who that leak might be.

  I always knew he was waiting for the most opportune time to strike. Evie relaxing, enjoying herself without me around was exactly what he was waiting for. Even in college, he never went after me. It’s always her.

  No. More.

  “We need to issue a statement before this gets out of control.” Shawn goes into agent mode, pulling his laptop out of his satchel. “It would have been easier if you’d publicly announced who you’re married to instead of trying to keep it a secret, but it’s too late for that now. The best we can hope for is to mitigate the claims she’s a money-hungry jersey chaser by flooding social media with the expected pictures of your life together. Female football fans are suckers for young married quarterbacks. We need to replace those images at the club with the wedding, the honeymoon. Give me whatever you have.”