The Outside Child

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “I’m just saying . . . he told you, and didn’t get caught. It was one time . . . y’all going through . . .”

  “So you think he should get a pass?”

  “Not a pass. I . . . I just think you shouldn’t throw him away. Brayden is a good man.”

  I pour the rest of the wine bottle in my glass and spy the bar for the next one. We’re gonna need more wine.

  “He threw our marriage away when he hooked up with a groupie.”

  “So the groupie wins?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sick of hoes winning. I respect marriages. I don’t mess with anyone’s husband, because one day I want what you have. Brayden looks at you like you’re oxygen.”

  Well, he can suffocate, then.

  “I will not be cheated on, Kara. I don’t want to live my life like that.”

  “Girl, Beyoncé out here getting cheated on.”

  “So, because Jay-Z cheated, I should just let Brayden stick his little pecker wherever it wants to peck?”

  “No . . . I’m just saying, there are women getting cheated on by bus drivers, by janitors, by preachers, and by deadbeats. There are beautiful and flawless women getting cheated on by their rich husbands.”

  “Some of those women walk away.”

  “And some of them have situations that can’t be fixed. I don’t think that’s y’all. You can’t blame people for what they do when they grieve.”

  “I didn’t cheat on him. Somehow I was able to not fall in the bed with someone.”

  “You didn’t cheat, but you broke your vows, too. You disappeared on him.”

  “Get the hell out of here! And whose side are you on? Did Brayden cut you a check?”

  “Girl, I’m on your side. I want you to save this marriage to this good man. That’s what I want you to do.”

  “Well, I didn’t disappear. I’ve been right here this whole time. Barely left the damn house.”

  Kara taps on the center of my chest. “Your heart has been closed off to him. You closed it the day y’all buried Quincy. Maybe before.”

  I let out a long sigh. Dammit, she’s right.

  “Admit it,” Kara says, “you’re angry about his cheating, but you’re not really hurt by it.”

  “It hurts.”

  “You haven’t shed one tear this whole time.”

  “Okay, shit. I’m mad.”

  “And you need to work on your anger, Chenille. You really do.”

  It was my anger that made me run out of the house that day in a rage instead of standing my ground and talking to Brayden like I should’ve. My anger has kept my heart (and legs) closed to Brayden for seven months.

  I sit my glass of wine down. “I don’t know what to do. He can’t just get away with this.”

  “He isn’t, girl. He is broken right now thinking you aren’t gonna take him back.”

  “Well, let him stay broken for a while.”

  “You know what I think we should do?”

  “Oh, Lord. What?”

  “We should take a he-cheated-on-me vacation. Let’s just get on a plane and fly somewhere. On his dime, of course.”

  “Where you wanna go?”

  Kara’s eyes light up. “For real?”

  “For real.”

  “St. Barts is nice this time of year.”

  “Go home and pack. Be ready to fly out this evening, or on the first flight out in the morning.”

  “Ooh, girl, let me go before you change your mind.”

  “Pack some party clothes. We’re gonna get lit.”

  I swear I’ve never seen Kara scurry that fast. Girlfriend is out the door before I can say another word.

  This trip will not be as fun for me as it will be for Kara. Yes, I’ll spend time at the beach, at the spa, and at the nightclub. I’ll eat, drink, and pretend to be merry. But the entire time, I’m going to be asking myself if Brayden should stay or go.

  Chapter 58

  Brayden refused to go to a hotel or even to his condo in Dallas. If he went to either of those, the paparazzi would report that he was staying away from home and wonder why. They already weren’t being too kind to him, because he’d left for the Portland, Oregon, expansion team. The fans were angry that their hometown boy had left the Knights, even though he’d thanked the city of Dallas and promised to continue all of his charity work.

  He wondered if they held a grudge like Chenille. If so, he should probably relocate to another city even during the off-season. It wasn’t worth it.

  At any rate, he was staying at his parents’ house.

  This was the second night in a row Marilyn was having his favorites for dinner. She didn’t cook the favorites, she just had them prepared. Tonight was lasagna.

  “This doesn’t make sense that you can’t even rest your head in your own home,” Marilyn said. “You allow Chenille to have too much power.”

  As usual, Brayden ignored Marilyn’s advice about his wife. They would never have an argument where Marilyn was on her side.

  “Son,” Joseph said, “why don’t we have dinner in my game room?”

  “I don’t like you eating in there,” Marilyn said.

  “Well, I’m gonna take the advice you just gave my son, and take away some of your power. Let’s go on downstairs to eat, son.”

  If Brayden wasn’t feeling so dejected about being put out by Chenille, he would’ve found his parents’ banter funny. He usually loved when his father put his mama in her place. She sometimes tried to be husband and wife.

  As soon as Joseph closed the game room door, and locked it (presumably to keep Marilyn out), he poured them each a shot of whiskey.

  “Here you go, son. You look like you need this.”

  Brayden swallowed the strong liquor and felt it burn his throat. “Thanks.”

  “So, what’s going on with you and my daughter-in-law? Why did she put you out?”

  Brayden didn’t want to admit his shortcomings to his father, but he was the only one who might have advice that would work for him.

  “Dad, I cheated on her.”

  Joseph blew a huge puff of air out of his lips. “Son. That girl has been through enough. Why’d you let her find out about it?”

  “I told her, because I thought that’s what you were supposed to do. I thought honesty was the best policy.”

  “Well, sometimes, you should let things get to a better place first. I wish you’d come to me before you did that.”

  “What now, though? She’s kicked me out. How do I get back home?”

  “You’ve got to show Chenille that she’s the most important thing in your life.”

  “Dad, she knows I love her more than anything. I don’t know what more to do to prove it to her.”

  Joseph shook his head and poured each of them another drink.

  “You haven’t shown her that you love her more than football.”

  “What do you mean? Football takes care of us.”

  “Until you put your wife before your career, she’s never going to be happy again. She’s lost her son, Brayden. You don’t know what it’s like for a woman to lose their baby. Shit, I don’t know. But I remember watching my mother descend into dementia after my sister died.”

  “Every time I get on television or when I win an award, Chenille’s name is the first name out of my mouth. God, and then my wife. What else do I need to do?”

  “Talk to God about it. Ask Him what you should do.”

  How could Brayden prove to Chenille that she was the first thing in his life? She wouldn’t move to Portland, and Dallas wouldn’t have him back. He was already in a contract with Portland, anyway, so that wouldn’t work. Maybe they could move to Atlanta and he could play there and she could relaunch her makeup business. Perhaps Chenille wanted to be at the table when he negotiated and be fully a part of the deal.

  So many options to consider, but Brayden couldn’t make a choice until he did what his father told him to do. He’d talk to God about it, and then the way would be made clea
r.

  Chapter 59

  The resort that I chose for our he-cheated-on-me getaway is a celebrity hangout spot. It costs ten thousand dollars a night for our suite. I booked it for ten days. Might extend it for another week.

  Kara is going crazy seeing all these musicians and ballplayers. She packed every single last one of her thong bikinis and a suitcase full of wigs. With her big sunglasses and perfect body she looks like a celebrity herself. If nothing else, it’s entertaining watching her do what she normally does, and that was hunt for men.

  She takes a selfie and posts it on some social media site. I have no idea which one, because she’s on all of them.

  I am not taking any photos myself. I’m just soaking up the sun, and these good margaritas.

  “I can’t understand why we haven’t made it to the blogs yet,” Kara says. “This place is crawling with paparazzi.”

  “Probably because they don’t know who we are. You’d probably be better off trying to photobomb somebody. That’ll get you on the internet.”

  “Funny. If I make it to straightfromthea.com I’m good. I want all the haters from back home to see me here in St. Barts.”

  “Girl, you are crazy. I thought they were already hating on you for being in Dallas.”

  “Yeah . . . they are . . . Oh, my goodness!”

  I sit up in my beach chair and take a sip of my margarita. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you know that Brayden was retiring?”

  Now I take off my sunglasses and snatch her phone. “Brayden who?”

  I look at the blog post that Kara has on her screen, and, sure enough, it says Former Dallas Knights MVP Brayden Carpenter Retires.

  “How do I see the rest of the article?”

  “Let me see. I think there’s an interview.”

  Kara swipes a few times on her phone, and then hands it back to me.

  “Press play,” she says.

  I press it, and it’s an interview with Brayden and an ESPN reporter. He looks solemn sitting in the director’s chair. Solemn, but peaceful.

  “Tell me about this retirement,” the reporter in the video says.

  “As you know, my wife and I experienced a great loss when our son passed away after an accident. We’ve been grieving separately, and I want to be able to focus all of my time on her. I want us to grieve and heal together.”

  “What about the Portland Beachcombers?”

  “They’re a great organization with a strong foundation. I think they will be good after they put the rest of the pieces of that squad together.”

  “Why now? Why not before you accepted Portland’s offer? Why not right after your son died? What changed in your life that made you want to retire right now?”

  “Honestly, I made a horrible mistake. I cheated on my wife. The woman I love. I betrayed her trust, and I’m willing to do anything to regain that trust and her love.”

  “Even retiring from a lucrative NFL career?”

  “Especially retiring from this career. It is all-consuming.”

  “I know a lot of NFL wives who wouldn’t change that for the world. What was your wife’s reaction when she found out you were doing this?”

  “She doesn’t know. She’s going to find out when your fans find out.”

  “Well, y’all heard that. This is an exclusive scoop from Brayden Carpenter. Brayden, we wish you all the best.”

  “Thank you, Jules.”

  I rewind the video and watch it again. Then again.

  He’s walked away from the NFL. For me. For our marriage.

  “He retired? So y’all about to be broke, huh?” Kara says. “Do we need to downgrade our room? Check out early?”

  “No. We’ve invested well.”

  If Brayden never plays another season, we will be good.

  Wait.

  I just thought of us as we. Just a few days ago, I was almost sure that I wanted this to be over. Even Kara’s speech about Beyoncé and Jay-Z didn’t completely change my mind.

  But this.

  He’s walked away from the one thing I always believed he loved more than me. He chose me.

  “And he just had to go on TV with it,” Kara says, shaking her head. “Couldn’t just call you up and say, ‘babe, I retired’? Had to go on TV.”

  “You’re just mad nobody wants to interview you.” Brayden’s voice surprises me.

  Kara and I both break our necks to turn around, and there he is, standing right behind our beach chairs.

  “Ew. You’re a stalker,” Kara says.

  “I guess that was a prerecorded video,” I say. “So, you think that’s what it takes to get me to take you back?”

  “Yes, I do think that’s what it takes. I don’t need football. I need you.”

  “We need to start off slowly. Starting with your clean bill of health.”

  Brayden hands me an envelope. I open it and see that he isn’t infected with anything. That’s a start.

  “You got on a plane with your doctor’s note?” Kara asks. “You must be trying to get some booty.”

  Brayden presses his lips into a tight line. “Kara, will you please excuse me while I talk to my wife?”

  “Girl, are you okay? You want to talk to him?”

  “Yes, I’m good. Thank you.”

  Brayden sits on Kara’s beach chair.

  “You’re going to be covered in glitter and highlighter when you get up from there,” I say. “She’s sparkling all over the place.”

  “I can’t believe Kara doesn’t have my back.”

  “She does. She’s been trying to convince me to forgive you since we got here.”

  “So . . .”

  “Brayden, all I can say is that I’ll try. You’re clearly trying. You quit your job. I can’t . . . won’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

  “Babe, I love you. It’s just going to be me and you right now. We can travel around the world if you want.”

  “What if I just want to sit in bed and watch Netflix?”

  “Then I’m making the popcorn.”

  Brayden reaches over and takes one of my hands in his. When I don’t pull it away, he covers it with his other hand and kisses the top.

  My stomach flutters, and I realize that I’ve missed his hands on me. I’ve missed his warmth and his scent. I haven’t wanted it until this moment.

  “You want to go up to our room?” Brayden asks.

  “Wait, what is Kara going to do?”

  “I’ve already gotten her another room, and had her bags moved.”

  “She might be mad. This is supposed to be a girls’ trip.”

  Brayden laughed. “Who do you think told me where you were?”

  Normally, I’d be mad about them ganging up on me and tricking me, but this time I can’t be mad. This is about restoring my marriage.

  This is about taking my man back.

  Wives one. Hoes zero.

  Chapter 60

  Brayden didn’t know what was better—their first honeymoon after they got married, or the second honeymoon. He and Chenille stayed in St. Barts another fourteen days. They spent most of the time making out on their balcony and making love on the huge four-poster bed with the ocean air in their lungs and the ocean spray moistening their faces.

  He worried that when they got home, the spell would be broken and Chenille would change her mind all over again. That she’d kick him out and finally be done with it.

  But everything was going well so far.

  Since the oppressive Texas heat had kicked in, Brayden went out to the extra freezer for his ice cream bar stash. He’d share his Dove bars with Chenille, although he usually didn’t. They were on a second honeymoon, so snacks would be shared.

  Brayden threw open the freezer and noticed that instead of his boxes of ice cream being on top, it was covered with frozen breast milk.

  His first reaction was that the milk should just be thrown out. It must be old. Quincy had been gone for eight months. He didn’t need it anymore.

&
nbsp; Brayden grabbed the first few bags to take them over to the sink, and was taken aback when one of the bags was warm. Brayden studied the date on the bag. It had today’s date on it.

  Why was Chenille still pumping and storing milk?

  “Babe what’s taking so long with the ice cream?” Chenille asked from the kitchen.

  Brayden heard her footsteps coming into the freezer room and quickly deliberated. Should he ignore this while everything was going so well? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal anyway.

  “Brayden . . .”

  He hadn’t deliberated fast enough, because he forgot to put the milk back into the freezer. He was holding it in his hand when Chenille opened the door to the freezer room.

  “Are you still pumping your milk?”

  The obvious answer to that question was yes, but Chenille just stared at the little bag without responding.

  “Babe, you can talk to me about this. Do you want me to go to the doctor with you to get medicine? Do they have something to stop the milk from coming?”

  Chenille shook her head. “I don’t want the medicine. I don’t want to stop pumping Quincy’s milk.”

  “But . . . Quincy doesn’t need it anymore.”

  Brayden’s voice was gentle and kind, but Chenille burst into tears anyway. Brayden pulled her into an embrace.

  “Don’t cry, love. It’s okay. If you want to fill up all of our freezers with breast milk, I don’t care. No one has to know but us. It’s your body.”

  “And Quincy’s milk,” Chenille whispered.

  “And Quincy’s milk.”

  Brayden rocked Chenille back and forth in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her coconut oil and shea butter scent.

  Brayden was glad he retired from football. If he hadn’t done it, hadn’t been home spending time with Chenille, he wouldn’t have known that she was beyond broken.

  She was unraveling.

  Chapter 61

  It’s weird that it’s October, and football is not the main theme of our house. Brayden has decided to learn how to make apple cider. The entire house smells like apples and cinnamon. I don’t know how much apple cider we can drink, though.

  “Are you giving some of these jugs away?” I ask, as I watch Brayden line up five gallon jugs of cider on the counter.