Finding Infinity (Infinity Series)

by Layne Harper

  I kneel down in front of her, and brush the loose strands of hair out of her face. One stubborn strand keeps covering her dull lavender eyes, so I tuck it behind her ear. I place my hands reassuringly on her arms. When she doesn’t brush them off, I take it as a good sign.

  “I’m here, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. I’ll fix it. I promise.” I hope that she hears in my voice just how serious I am. I will move heaven and earth to make her happy.

  In a resolved, quiet tone she says, “I’m not leaving you. But I’m asking you to come with me, or at least make some changes.”

  “Come where, sweetheart? Where do you want me to go?” I’m alarmed. I mean, I know that she hates my house, but we don’t have too many options when it comes to a secure place to live.

  “Away from here. Away from all the people that use your house like it’s a country club. Away from Jenny and Jenna, who know you better than I do. Away from Alice, who washes and irons my thong panties. Mostly, just away from the press, and the fans, and the constant gossip about us. We don’t have to leave Dallas. We can just rent an apartment in a secure building. You can come here every day if you want. I’m not asking you to give up your home. I just need my own space, Colin. I need some structure back in my life.” She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, and her voice is still very quiet.

  The emotions that I experience in that second range from relief that she’s not leaving me, to shock that it’s gotten this bad without me really realizing it, to total and complete helplessness.

  We sit there in silence while I wait for her to go on, or for me to come up with something to respond with. When I finally realize that the ball is in my court, all I can say is, “I’m sorry.”

  She picks her head up and looks at me. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for. I’m the messed up one here. I’m the one who can’t live like this anymore. This is your life, and you’re happy with it. You don’t mind living in the chaos.” With pleading eyes, she says, “I can’t. I’ve spent the last six weeks since I moved in trying to adjust, but I just can’t any longer.” She’s angry at herself, and that bothers me. I should’ve been more in tune with her. I should have realized that my house would be too much.

  “You’ve seemed okay. When I come home, you’re smiling and happy. You tease me, and make love to me like there’s no tomorrow. I have to say that you’re coming out of left field a bit here, baby.” This isn’t entirely true. Jenny’s clued me in on a few problems, but I never dreamt that things had gotten this out of control.

  “That’s because you’re with me. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, my happiness has become defined by you. And that’s got to change,” she says, with some life back in her voice. God, I couldn’t agree with her any more.

  “All right, beautiful girl. Let’s make some changes. Where do we begin?” Now, we’re back to where I feel comfortable. I get to fix this for her. I can do this.

  Charlie straightens up and wraps her robe around her body, hiding her tits from me. “I want Jenna gone. You told me that you only see her a couple of times a year when you visit your parents, but she was sitting in our home, uninvited by me. I’m assuming by you, also?”

  “Done. I just kicked her out of the house and asked Jenny to have her removed from the approved list at the guard shack. Look, Jenna is my past. I’ve helped her out over the years because there’s a part of me that feels guilty for all the shit that went down in high school. If she’s coming between us, then I’ll never talk to her again.” There’s never been truer words spoken; Jenna was a piece of ass. Nothing more. Nothing less. “What else, baby? What else can I do? If you hate our house that much, let’s move. Four fuckin’ walls baby. It’s just four fuckin’ walls,” I tell her, as I rub my hand on her leg.

  She gets a pained look on her face, but she begins to speak anyway. “I don’t mind us having house guests, but they can’t live with us indefinitely, and they can’t act like this is their home.” I can tell that she’s afraid of what I’m going to say, so I nod for her to continue. I try to reassure her that this is the kind of communication that I need. When I’m back focused on football, I know that I neglect the other stuff around me. That’s what I’ve done to her, and I hate myself for it.

  “I can’t walk to the refrigerator naked, for fear one of the hundreds of people who have access to your home will be sitting in our kitchen. I’ve got to have my space and my things. I feel like I’m back living in the dorms in college. Colin, I’ve come a long way with my illness, but I don’t think that I’ll ever be okay with an open-door policy.”

  I couldn’t care less, either way. If she wants our guests gone, that’s doable. “No problem. I’ll rent the guys an apartment. No one has to stay with us if you don’t want them to.”

  “I also hate that I come home and find people using the pool. People need to call before they come over. If you and I want to have sex on the living room couch, I want to do that without fear of someone walking in on us.” She adds the last part as I watch her mouth form into a slight devilish grin. The weight on my chest lessens a little more—seeing that smile.

  “Hmm…let’s see.” I pretend to think about it. “Sex in other places besides our bedroom for asking friends to call first? Yup! That’s a fair trade.”

  I watch Charlie take a deep breath before she speaks. The battery acid feeling in my stomach that had slowly begun to go away comes back in a rush. She looks down at the floor, denying me her beautiful eyes. That makes me crazy. I need her eyes to know what she’s thinking.

  “I want Jenny to have an office somewhere else besides our house. I also want her to quit dabbling so deeply in our personal life.”

  I take her chin softly in my hand, and tilt her face so I can see those gorgeous eyes: the eyes that see into my soul. They are wet with unshed tears when she begins to speak. “I don’t understand why she has to pack for you to go out of town? I also don’t like that she knows more about you than I do. I know that this is jealousy speaking, and I hate myself for it. I want to know more about you than any other person. I’m sorry. I know that sounds petty.” I watch the tears trickle down her cheeks, and it makes my heart ache. “I’m jealous of a forty-something-year-old woman with orange hair.”

  She puts her hands over her face, covering her eyes, and shakes her head. Her hair falls around her, creating a screen. A sound escapes from her lips that I think is a sob. I quickly pull her hands away and see that she’s laughing. It makes me laugh, too. Jenny is awesome in, like, that big-sister mother-hen kind of way. Charlie has no reason to be jealous of her.

  “Look, if I move Jenny out of the house that means that I’m going to spend less time at home. I’ll have to go to an office and see her every day. It also means that I’ll have meetings there instead of here.” I explain to her. I want to make sure that Charlie realizes that she’ll be getting less of my time, not more. It also means that I can’t simply walk out of my office and find my girl for the distraction that we both enjoy.

  I watch Charlie think through the problem logistically in her mind. She’s a smart girl. I can tell that she’s trying to come up with an acceptable compromise. After a few minutes, she lets out a sigh. “How about if we move Jenny’s office to a bedroom upstairs? Look, Colin, I feel like she’s spying on me. I know that she reports to you what I’m doing at home. I really can’t take it any longer. I never get to be alone anymore, unless I hide in our bedroom.” She looks around the room with some life coming back into her eyes, as she pauses a beat looking out the bay window. “I love our bedroom. I can even deal with the house and all the football clutter, but I can’t take feeling like I have a nanny when I’m at home.”

  “Do you like Jenny?” I ask her. I know the answer, but I want to hear Charlie say it. Jenny knows my businesses better than I do. I really hope that Charlie isn’t going to put pressure on me to fire her. I would choose Charlie hands down, but my football life, without Jenny running it, would be much more difficult. Finding a balan
ce where Charlie can deal with Jenny is paramount.

  “Colin, I don’t dislike Jenny. She’s a great assistant to you. Jenny obviously cares about you tremendously, and is very protective. I like that. I’m not sure that I could be good friends with anyone who’s that close to you.” She places her hand on my cheek, and it’s so fucking reassuring that I’m almost ashamed of myself.

  Wow! That wasn’t the answer that I was prepared to hear, but God, it just makes me love Charlie even more. She gets my need to keep Jenny as my assistant. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep both of them happy. “Sometimes, Doctor Collins, you amaze me,” I tell her, as I pull her on the ground with me and cuddle her in my lap.

  She giggles. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re mine. And I adore you. Any other issues?”

  “Yes,” she says, rather timidly, for Charlie. “I want to talk to you about releasing your medical records. I want to know why you will not do it and shut the critics up.” She gets that pleading look in her eyes that drives me crazy. “Colin, it’s on the main-stream media now. It was the lead story on the Today Show this morning.”

  Didn’t this conversation just take a ninety-degree turn? Fuck. I’m not ready to have this discussion with her yet. I’ve gotten a copy of my medical history, and Aiden has attorneys and doctors combing through it. I’m not convinced that it’s going to do any good to release it, and I fucking loathe the idea of pandering to the vultures.

  “There’s a lot to consider. We’ll figure it out,” I tell her, knowing good and well that it’s not going to shut her up.

  “When, Colin? I feel like a prisoner. I can’t turn on the TV, or read a magazine without hearing speculation of you being a drug user. People are calling my phone, trying to get a quote from me about it. It’s turned into a raging inferno of a story, when you and I both know that there’s really nothing there. Just release them, and shut everyone up.” She pauses, and tries to hide the accusatory look in her eye, but I fucking see it. “Unless there’s more to the story?”

  She leaves the last sentence dangling. I’m pissed that she’s even questioning my honesty. I poured my heart out to her. I told her the sickest shit ever about me. How dare she question my integrity?

  “I fucking told you everything, Caroline. Don’t ask me, ever again, if there’s more to the story. You know more about me than anyone else,” I throw back at her.

  I stand up, pushing her off of me, and walk into the bathroom, slamming the doors behind me. I’ve got to cool off before I say something I’m going to regret. I splash cold water on my face, and try to talk myself down. The weight is crushing my chest to the point where I’m finding it difficult to breathe. I mean, I know that I haven’t been the ideal boyfriend, but fuck. I’ve never given her one reason to question my honesty. I rationalize that I can’t shut her out now that she’s talking, but I’m fucking livid that she questioned me. I try taking deep breaths again to lower my heart rate, but it’s no fucking use.

  She’s punishing me for opening up to her, and that is bullshit. Does she not realize that I’ve been more honest with her about my faults than I have with anyone else?

  When I walk into the toilet closet to take a piss, I see that the seat is up. Then, like a punch in the gut, I realize why. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Images of the sweat-drenched security guys sitting at my breakfast bar flash through my mind. Charlie’s voice when I called her. The toilet seat is raised.

  She’s started doing it again. She’s sick again. I remember her in college, when I discovered her secret. I see her naked, and trying to shield her painfully thin body from my eyes. I see her full breasts that became so tiny she looked like a child. “Oh my God, I’m losing her again,” I say to myself.

  Panic washes over me so deeply that I have to momentarily grip the wall, because I can’t breathe. When I recover, I fly out of the master bathroom and see her sitting back on the couch. She looks fragile and small. “Did you do it?” I yell. I know that I look and sound insane, but I can’t calm myself down. My future with her is evaporating before my eyes.

  She tilts her head sideways, and her brow wrinkles in confusion. “Did I do what?”

  “You made yourself sick, didn’t you? Instead of talking to me, you made yourself sick. Goddammit, Charlie. You promised me that you’d never do it again.” I clench and unclench my fists. I can feel myself leaning forward on my toes. I realize that I look like a tiger, ready to pounce, so I make an effort to relax my hands and stand up straight. I can’t stand the terrified look that she has on her face.

  I’m so fucking pissed at myself for being blind. I knew that she needed order, yet I just moved her into my house, assuming that I was enough to keep her healthy. “You promised that you’d ask for help. I didn’t fucking know that it was this bad. I swear to you.” I start pacing and running my hands through my hair. I feel my life slipping away from me. I feel my dreams of us getting married, having a baby, spending our life together going up in smoke. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I yell, but it’s not at her. I’m really yelling at myself. I’ve been so blinded by love that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

  Charlie’s tear-stained face and silent sobs break me out of my anger-filled trance. I scoop her in my arms and hold her to me. I push her into my chest, needing to feel her against me. She can calm me like nothing else can—just her scent, her touch. My body recognizes her as it’s other half.

  I cling to her, needing to know that she’s still with me. In a much calmer voice, I say, “I’ll get you help, baby. We’ll call Doctor Benson and have her find you the best hospital possible. I’ll take care of you. I’m not going to let you lose my favorite pair of tits.” That’s my way of saying that I’m not going to let her leave me again.

  “I…I…I didn’t do it,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I almost did, but I didn’t do it. You called instead, and I knew that I had to talk to you.”

  Relief flows out of me. Glorious relief. I kiss her forehead and her hair. I kiss the tears off her cheeks. I hold her even more tightly to me, and silently send God as many thank you prayers that I can think to say. I even promise him that I’ll quit saying goddammit if he’ll just keep her safe, and keep her from getting sick again.

  “I did run almost twenty miles today, and it felt so good to be in control again,” she confesses in a soft whisper.

  “Thank you for telling me, and for sharing all of your problems that you’re having with my life. I’ll start flying Doctor Benson up to meet with you. I’ll move Jenny to an office building. I can’t do much about the media and the crazy fans right now, but I’ll figure something out. I fucking love you. I’m going to make you happy. I promise.”

  Charlie sits up and takes my face in her hands. Her lavender eyes pierce my soul. “Not once, since I proposed to you, have I regretted my decision. I love you. I’m just struggling with everything that surrounds you. Be patient with me. I’ll be my old self again. I promise.”

  Her words own me. She fucking owns me. “I love you so much, beautiful girl. You’ve got to communicate with me. I’ve got to know that you’re telling me when there’s a problem. I can’t fucking spend every day living in fear that you’re hiding shit from me. Tell me! I’m a fucking reasonable guy.” She gives me her “You’ve got to be kidding me” look.

  “Okay, so I’m not reasonable all the time, but I told you that I love you enough to make this work. I meant every damn word of it, Charlie.”

  She smiles, a smile that finally reaches her eyes. “Thank you. We’re going to make this work,” she confirms. Those are the sweetest damn words ever spoken.

  Chapter Three

  Charlie

  There’s something big happening for CharCol this weekend, folks! Here’s what we know. Aiden Montogomery, Colin’s long time best friend, attorney, and agent, and Rachael Early, chief of staff for presidential hopeful Langford Jones, were seen boarding a plane at LAX en route to Dallas. On the same plane, was C
lay South, former quarterback and friend of the couples. Sources are also reporting that super-agent Mark Lars boarded a plane at LaGuardia, also destined for Dallas. Could this be their wedding weekend? We’ve heard that the super exclusive Highland Park restaurant Violets has been closed for the evening. Stay tuned. We’ll have all the latest CharCol wedding deets here.

  Things have gotten better, and most importantly I’ve gotten better. It’s been three weeks since I had my breakdown, as I’ve come to call it. Colin’s done what he said he’d do. Doctor Benson flies to Dallas once a week to meet with me individually, and then Colin and I participate in couple’s therapy. As we both already know, just loving each other is not enough. We’re dealing with circumstances that are beyond our control.

  We’re learning to communicate better. I love that Colin’s willing to rearrange his very busy schedule to make it to every appointment. I know how fortunate I am that he’s so committed to us, and I remember to tell him often.

  Colin loves helping players and want-to-be players that need a hand up, not a handout, so he bought a house outside the gilded cage for players to live in. He let Brad furnish it, which made his day. There are so many athletes that just need that one break. They’re living hand-to-mouth, so if Colin can give them a roof over their heads, then they can focus on getting into tip-top shape. This was a great compromise. Jenny keeps the refrigerator stocked for them, Colin pays the bills, and no one is drinking my milk in the mornings.

  Colin’s also found office space for CharCol Inc. I absolutely despise the title, but I love that he named his corporation after us. It’s very tongue in cheek. Jenny should start working from there next week. It’s got a conference room, a big office for Colin, an office for Aiden to work in when he’s in town, a nice space for Jenny, and a kitchenette. Most importantly, it has enough wall space for all of Colin’s memorabilia and chachkies. His bobblehead figurines, special edition Coke cans and jerseys will finally have a home that is not on the floor of our house. It also has a huge storage closet. Instead of four boxes of footballs in the foyer, they can go to his new office. Just knowing that there’s an end in sight has made me feel better.