Goalie (Texas Mutiny Book 3)

by M. E. Carter

  “So he’s just scared.”

  She shrugs. “When is breakfast, Mommy?”

  “In just a second. Are you done crying now?” I shift my focus to Theo. He still has some tears running down his face, but it doesn’t look like he’s hurt. Which means all that noise was from him being either afraid or angry. My guess is he’s angry he fell. Even at such a young age, he’s aggressive like his father when he plays, and it really ticks him off when something stops him from accomplishing his task.

  “Let’s sit down for breakfast, ok, snuggle bug?” I strap him into his high chair and scrape a few eggs onto his tray before giving the girls each a plate of eggs as well. Tapping Lina on the arm, she sits up and digs right into her breakfast just like the other two.

  A knock causes us all to pause and look toward the front door. Who could be here so early in the morning? It’s not even seven.

  Peeking through the peephole, all I see is a fancy coffee cup. Being that my old-school coffee machine isn’t even done brewing yet, that’s all I need to see before I’m convinced to open the door. Surely a madman wouldn’t bring me coffee before killing me.

  “Good morning,” I hear as I swing the door wide. A smile crosses my face.

  “Marcus. That coffee better be for me,” I jest with a smirk.

  “Of course it is.” He shoves the cup into my hands and lifts up a Shipley’s bag and waves it in my face. “I brought something for the kids, too.”

  “Donuts. You sure know how to bribe them for love. Come in.”

  My next-door neighbor makes his way past me, into the small eating area and greets the kids with a smile.

  “Hi, Marcus!” Myra chirps brightly, while Lina grunts her hello. Theo doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on the bag. He may be young, but he’s no dummy.

  “Good morning, kiddos. I heard you guys get up, so I figured you’d like some donuts for breakfast,” he singsongs.

  “Yay!” Myra yells and even Lina gets an excited look on her face. Sugar is apparently the key to waking her up early. I, on the other hand, groan.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus,” I say, as he digs into the bag and passes out the sugar goodness to the kids. “I didn’t realize how loud Theo was this morning. I hate how thin these walls are.”

  “Don’t even worry yourself about it, baby girl.” He tears up a glazed donut and drops the pieces on Theo’s tray. Theo’s eyes get wide and then he shovels them in his mouth as fast as he can, the scrambled eggs forgotten. “Hey, slow down man. You’re gonna choke.” Marcus chuckles and then turns to address me again. “I needed to get up anyway. There’s no use wasting the day. Besides, like I told you before, I would much rather wake up to this little dude’s crying than the sounds the last neighbors used to make.” He shudders. “I’m all for the man getting pegged, but have a little respect for your neighbors when you do it.”

  Marcus has been our next-door neighbor since we moved in a few months ago. We first met him when I dropped a box of toys in my bedroom as I was trying to put it on a top shelf. Apparently, he heard the thud of the toys and my scream, so he ran over and straight into the apartment, armed with a golf club because he was convinced I was being murdered. I was too shocked by his disheveled blue Mohawk and My Little Pony pajama pants to even register that a strange man had barged into my apartment. We’ve been friends ever since.

  I dish out some eggs on a small plate and hand them to him. He digs in with a groan.

  “Well, I can guarantee there won’t be any tawdry noises coming through the walls any time soon, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think a few tawdry noises might do you good, don’t ya think?”

  “Marcus,” I warn.

  “Baby girl, just hear me out.” I roll my eyes and turn back to the mess on the counter to clean it up. “No one says you have to find the next great love of your life right now. But maybe it’s time you go out and having a little fun.” I scoff, but he won’t drop it. “Mari, don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re starting to fall apart.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He gives me an incredulous look. “When you first moved in, you wore yoga pants and a messy bun maybe twice a week. Now, you don’t wear anything else.”

  “I don’t have anywhere to go,” I argue. “I’m a busy mom. I dress for comfort, not style.”

  “That’s why you haven’t taken that Mutiny sweatshirt off in a week?”

  I look down. He’s right. I’ve been throwing it on over my clothes to stay warm, but hadn’t really noticed that the front was looking pretty bad.

  “Seriously, Mariana. There are stains all over it. What is that on your shoulder?”

  I pull the sleeve out to get a closer look. “Uh, looks like smooshed goldfish.”

  “Mari,” he admonishes. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Ok, ok, I get it,” I finally say. “I need to pull myself together more.”

  “No. You need to give yourself a reason to pull yourself together more. Get a Bumble account, or sign up for a singles event or something.”

  “Marcus,” I hiss and look over at Myra, who is completely ignoring us as she licks the glaze off her donut. Turning back to him, I whisper, “I’m still married. Now lower your voice.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I roll my eyes to the ceiling in return.

  “Yes, it’s on paper only. But it still feels like it would be cheating.”

  “Really, Mariana?” he counters quietly like I asked. I feel my face get hot with embarrassment. I know what he’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. “After all those years of infidelity, you’re worried a Bumble account is crossing the line?”

  “Stop,” I plead quietly. I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. Even all these months later, it feels like a punch in the gut whenever I think about how many women Santos cheated with and what a fool I was.

  I feel Marcus come up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” he soothes in my ear. “I didn’t mean to say it. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Hearing his sincerity, I know he means it, but I’m shaking so bad from trying not to cry in front of the kids, all I can do it nod in response. He knows how hard all of this has been on me. His own sister is going through a divorce, so he understands how the wrong statement can set me off instantaneously. The lump in my throat won’t let me speak without crying, so I say nothing.

  “Let’s think of something else,” he encourages. “Um… remember that door decorating contest the apartment complex sponsored and the snowman I made out of cotton balls?”

  I giggle before I can stop it.

  “And the rain storm that came through as soon as you put the finishing touches on.”

  “And all the cotton balls got wet and eyes and mouth looked like they were bleeding because the paper got wet and made the marker run,” he adds.

  We both start laughing now.

  “And the bird that decided the real carrot nose was a great place to perch and poop—”

  “Right on my stoop so I stepped in bird shit everyday for a week—”

  “Until that squirrel decided to eat the carrot and all that was left were soggy cotton balls and little stick arms.”

  Tears are streaming down my face from laughing so hard at the thought. Some are tears of sadness, too. But at least the kids think it’s all from laughter. And it gets it all out so I can move on from the grief this morning.

  “Pretty sure the apartment complex gave me that twenty-five dollar discount on my rent out of pity.” I nod in agreement, still wiping my tears away.

  Marcus turns and rips apart another donut to give the baby some more.

  “Me, too, Marcus,” Myra exclaims. “I want some more donut, too, please!” Lina grunts her agreement.

  “I like that you said please,” he responds. “Just for that, you get a chocolate-covered donut!”

  I groan. “Marcus! You are going to give them
a sugar high and then leave me to deal with all the hyper!”

  He flashes a wide, ornery grin my way. “This is when I defer to my rights as their uncle.”

  “And this is when I defer to the fact that you aren’t their real uncle,” I reply.

  He waves me off. “Tomato. To-mah-to.”

  I can’t help but smirk at the look of pure pleasure on Lina’s face after taking a huge bite. Truth is, if it wasn’t Marcus bringing donuts and feeding them too much sugar, it would have been Santos, anyway.

  “So. Back to the discussion at hand.”

  I groan and grab a rag to wipe off the counter. “You’re never going to let this Bumbo thing go, are you?”

  “It’s Bumble. Like the bee. And no. I’m not. You don’t even have to contact anyone. Just look at what’s out there. Who knows,” he says with a shrug, “maybe you’ll find a really good friend who can be a great wingman.”

  “You aren’t going to be my wingman?”

  “Who else is going to babysit while you sow your oats?”

  I sigh. “Fine. I’ll create an account. But I’m not going anywhere with anyone. Probably ever.”

  The way he claps his hands in delight reminds me of when Myra gets excited.

  “If you’re this happy now, I’m a little worried about what you’re planning to push me into next.”

  He puts his arm around me. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

  “Uh huh. Exactly how many steps do you plan on pressuring me to take?”

  He looks down at me giving me a devilish grin. “As many as it takes.”

  Well, I’m screwed.

  I know a lot of guys who have psycho ex-wives. I’ve heard the horror stories… always taking them back to court for more child support even when they’re going above and beyond. Not working together on a schedule to see the kids, even when the job requires two-week road trips. Showing up at their apartments unannounced and throwing a fit if they’re entertaining. That shit happens all the time.

  But my Mari isn’t like that. Even after we were first separated, when she refused to speak to me for over a month, she’s never been unreasonable. She told me what she needed to pay the bills and has never asked for a penny more. If I want to talk to the kids, I text her and they Facetime or Skype almost immediately. And she works visitation around my work schedule.

  So as far as ex’s go, I’ve got the best one. But that doesn’t mean I like it.

  I don’t want Mari to be an ex. I want her to be my current. My forever. She’s been my best friend for over ten years, and I miss her desperately. I miss her smile. I miss her conversation. I miss watching her dance parties while she’s cooking. I miss the way her body fits next to mine when she’s the little spoon. I miss her with a desperation I can’t even fully explain.

  Pushing the gravity of the situation aside, I focus on today. Today, I’m taking the kids to the zoo. I’ve been out of town for over a week, and I can’t wait to spend the day hugging them and kissing them and making them happy. There’s only one thing I love more than soccer, and that’s my family. Mari used to say I was born to be a dad.

  She also used to say I was born to be a husband. I’m guessing her thoughts changed on that one.

  Pulling into the complex, I look around, satisfied that this is the place she chose to live. It’s clean and well maintained. The crime rate in the area is really low. It’s not a bad place to live. And I admit, there is one big reason I like this complex.

  When I realized she was serious about separating, I immediately went to Daniel Zavarro, the captain of our team to find out about where he lived. I felt better knowing he would be so close to my family in the event of an emergency. I would much rather be here with them, but since I can’t be the one protecting them myself, it’s better than nothing.

  Fortunately, the complex had a small two-bedroom unit open and available. I sent Mari all the information in an email as soon as I found out. I’m sure she knew it was the same place Daniel lives, but she apparently liked it enough that she moved in the next time I went on a road trip. I’m assuming she did it while I was gone, specifically so she wouldn’t have to see me while she packed up.

  Which means I’ve never even seen my kids’ rooms in that apartment. I hate that.

  Sighing, I turn off the ignition and grab the packages before climbing out of the car. I pay more than what the state would require in child support, but except for living expenses, I don’t need the money for myself anyway. I’ve always worked to provide for my family. That hasn’t changed because of the separation.

  I walk under the steps to her front door and knock. I don’t like that they’re on the bottom floor. It feels like a safety hazard to me. After expressing my displeasure to Mari, she reminded me that having to get three small children up and down stairs wasn’t a daily struggle she wanted to have. She also reminded me that none of it was my decision anymore. My opinion didn’t count. That was a hard pill to swallow.

  As I knock and wait for her to let me in, I wonder, again, how it ended up like this. How could I be so stupid? Yes, I was fucking other women. Groupies, more specifically. But why? Why did I feel the need to do it when I love Mari with everything in me? What is wrong with me? Besides the obvious—I’m a total dick.

  I hurt her so deeply and all I want to do is make it right. I want to make it go away. I want to reverse time and put everything back together before it’s too late. I want to do things differently so I can erase the pain in her eyes. The pain that I put there.

  God, I hate myself sometimes.

  The door opens and I find my breath catching. There she is. My wife. My beautiful Mari. She’s more gorgeous to me today than when we first met.

  Her long dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun, like she wears when she’s deep cleaning the house. Her beautiful, flawless tan skin hasn’t aged a day since we met in college, and her beautiful red lips… to this day, I’m in awe of her natural beauty. She looks at me through her long, dark lashes, just a hint of a smile. Not the kind of smile she used to give me… the one that said she was happy to see me. No. This is more like she’s tolerating me being here because she has to. It breaks my heart because I did that. I did. And I will never forgive myself for it.

  “Hey,” I say with as big of a smile as I can muster. “I brought a few things.”

  She looks down at my packages and swings the door open for me to enter. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” I put everything down on the couch and start sorting through it. “This is my family. You are my family, and it’s my job to take care of you.”

  “No, Santos.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not your job anymore. I have to take care of myself. And the kids.”

  “Mari, let me do this please? I miss you guys. All of you. And I love you. And… and this is the only way I can show you how much I love you right now.”

  She nods once and looks at the floor. When she looks up, I can see the fire in her eyes so I brace myself. “You should have thought of that every time you were banging a groupie after a game.”

  I close my eyes and swallow hard, letting my shame wash over me. She’s right. I should have. And I didn’t. And now we’re here. And it sucks.

  “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” I open my eyes, throwing a smile on my face and squatting down as my two girls come racing into the room and jumping into my arms.

  “Oh, my girls!” I kiss them all over their faces and dig my fingers into their ribs, tickling them. “I missed you girls so much.”

  “Daddy, Mommy got me some princess flip-flops. See?” Myra shoves her foot in my face, almost falling over in the process.

  “Oh, they’re so nice,” I say in that exaggerated response most parents use when their kids get excited about the small things in life.

  “Me, too, Daddy.” Lina just points at her feet instead of trying for balance.

  “Look at that! One Elsa, one Anna. So you don’t get t
hem mixed up.” They nod excitedly, thrilled that I understand the concept of keeping their things separated. “They are beautiful. But I think maybe we should wear our runners today since we’re going to do a lot of walking at the zoo.”

  “We going to the zoo, Daddy?” Lina asks with wide eyes. “We gonna see the monkeys?”

  “Absolutely! As soon as you girls are ready and we have Theo packed up, we’ll get going.”

  “Yay!” they yell and take off down the hall to their room, presumably to change shoes, leaving Mari and I alone and uncomfortable again.

  “Theo went down for a nap about an hour and a half ago,” Mari says, as I stand up. “I’ll get his stuff ready to go and then we can wake him. He should be ok the rest of the day.”

  “Ok. Thanks.” I pick up the box of diapers. “Where do you want me to put these?”

  “You can just leave them on the couch.”

  Reaching for the other bag, I pull out a box. “I, um… I got this for you. I know your other coffee maker is on its last leg, and I know how much you need your shot of caffeine in the morning, so I got you this new one. It has a timer you can set before bed, which is one less thing to do in the morning. And it comes with a reusable filter if you want it so you don’t have to keep buying the paper ones…”

  “Santos…” she objects, and I know what she’s implying without her going any further.

  “Mari, please.” I blink back the tears I feel in my eyes. I’ve never, ever been a crier before, but ever since they left, I find it harder and harder to control my emotions. “I know I fucked up. I know it. Every single day, I wish I could change it. Fuck me. Fuck how bad it hurts me. I deserve it. I hate myself for how I hurt you. Please just take the damn coffee maker. I want to know I’ve at least done something good for you in all this mess. Please.”

  She looks to the ceiling and swallows like she’s fighting back her own tears. “Ok,” she says quietly. “You can set it up where the other one is.”

  “Thank you.” I turn and walk into the kitchen, grateful to be in the other room when the girls come racing back in so they don’t have to see the emotion on my face. They don’t need this to be any harder on them than it already is.