by Alyssa Kale
“Soph, are you okay?”
Shrugging, I don’t respond. Sitting next to me, Kendall wraps her arm around me so I’m resting my head on her shoulder. I slip the phone from her hand and quickly pull up my website, logging in to the settings.
“Sophie, they already have your number. You’re going to have to change it completely, not just remove it from your site.”
“It’s a start, at least. I need to call Cora.”
“Yeah, you should probably work from home for a bit. Hell, you may need to move back in here for a few weeks.”
While the line connects, I say, “She called earlier. I suspect I’m about to be unemployed and thus homele—”
“Sophie. Thank goodness. How are you? Where are you? It’s a madhouse outside. Don’t come in the office.”
Confused by her ramblings, I don’t speak immediately. It’s fine though; Cora is still on a roll.
“I called the police and asked them to slap these idiots with trespassing, but I think you should work from home for a few days. No. You should take a few days off. I can’t imagine how stressful this is. Why didn’t you say anything about dating Braxton when the issue was released?”
She takes a deep breath, and I use the opportunity to respond.
“Cora, breathe. First, aren’t you firing me?”
She snorts, and I hear her shuffling around her office before she speaks. “Uh, no. Why would I fire you? Sophie, you’re the best photographer this magazine will ever have. Besides, you bring a necessary balance to the office. We’d be lost without you.”
“Thank you for not firing me. I’m so sorry to bring this into the magazine. I had no idea this would happen. Braxton thought he was inconspicuous, but I guess he was wrong. The headlines are false. We aren’t dating, and I didn’t break up a family. We’re friends and probably not even that anymore. This is a complete shitshow.”
Kendall squeezes my hand and then rises from the couch before shuffling into the kitchen. I hear the sounds of pans clanking on the stove and the fridge opening and closing. Praise be, she’s going to make some breakfast.
“This too shall pass, Sophie. Don’t worry,” Cora reassures. “I’ll contact Karen, the Aces’ publicist, and get some guidance on how to maneuver through this. You just relax, and I’ll keep you apprised of things here.”
“Thank you, Cora. I appreciate this, truly.”
“Of course. We’ll talk later, okay?”
Ending the call, I toss the phone aside and rub my eyes. I slept so good last night I can’t be tired, but it’s like the adrenaline of the morning has suddenly evaporated. I have nothing left in me. Resting my eyes, I must doze off, because Kendall gently nudges me awake.
“Hey. I thought you and the peanut could use a little breakfast.”
Sitting up, I take the plate she holds. A small pile of scrambled eggs and two slices of turkey bacon sit on the plate, and suddenly I’m ravenous. Biting into the bacon, I let out a small moan of appreciation. We sit in silence, eating our food. Since I’m eating like a Hoover vacuum, I finish first and set the plate on the table before taking a large drink from the glass of juice she placed on a coaster.
“I put out some clothes for you if you want to shower. I already called in sick and have your favorite movies ready for us to watch. We’ll have a hermit day, and tonight when the sun goes down and the vultures have realized you’re not coming out, we’ll go get some of your things, and you can stay here for a few days.”
“Thanks, Ken. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.” I don’t bother sucking back the tears. I let them fall as she pulls me in for a quick hug. When I pull back, more emotions hit me when I see her eyes are glossy too.
I’m not sure an entire day of movies and ignoring the outside world is going to make a difference, but right now, anything more feels equivalent to climbing the tallest mountain. Before I can make it fully across the room, I turn to ask Kendall to power off my phone, but she’s tapping away at the screen. Catching my eye, she offers me a tight smile.
“I responded to Braxton’s message and let him know you were here and need some time.”
There’s nothing else to say as I turn and make my way to a hot shower, where I can release all the emotions fighting to escape in private.
24
* * *
SOPHIE
If I thought the press would lose interest in me quickly, I was sorely mistaken. Not only did law enforcement have to get involved and force them off the apartment complex property, I had to sneak into the Clarence Monthly offices through an emergency door at random times throughout the day to throw them off.
Regardless of my efforts, they still managed to get photos of me. As a photographer, it was insulting and honestly horrifying to see those pictures online. Kendall told me not to read the articles. Cora said to ignore the trolls and go about life.
I did both. Just not all the time.
The baseball season is almost over, and since the Aces did not make it into the playoffs, the focus has shifted to the teams headed into the postseason. Sure, Braxton Lee’s baby mama drama and alleged homewrecker mistress are enticing headlines, but at the end of the day, the public began to lose interest quickly while the press moved on to some other drama.
In the two weeks since this all started, I haven’t seen Braxton. I haven’t talked to him either. He’s respected my need for space, which makes me miss him more. I hate not knowing how he’s handling being thrust back into the media. And I wonder if his poor showing at the last few games are a result of the mess our friendship created, or if he’s just having a bad run.
I should have known his silence wouldn’t last forever. This morning when I arrived at the office, there was a large assortment of flowers on my desk with a card. Three words that almost broke my resolve to put distance between us. I miss you. He has no way of knowing how much I miss him. How much I want to curl up into his side as he wraps his arms around me and holds me. Taking the card, I hold it to my chest. Knowing he’s been thinking of me gives me strength. Boy do I need it today.
The alarm sounds on my phone, and I silence it as I stand and grab my purse, dreading what I’m about to do. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s not right to keep this secret from my ex any longer. Exiting the building, I slow my steps and look around to make sure there aren’t any photographers lurking. I know there’s a possibility they’re still skulking in the distance where I can’t see them, but I like to pretend they’ve completely moved on. Walking the short distance to the small coffee shop, I step through the door and spot him sitting in one of the oversized chairs.
Jared looks like a king on a throne, and I wonder not for the first time how long ago I stopped being in love with him. I’ve put this conversation off long enough, and regardless of what he says today, I intend to have this baby. I’ll raise him or her by myself. It won’t be easy, but women do it every day.
I have a job I love with a good salary and health insurance. Cora fully supports my decision and has already started asking when she can buy presents. She’s also mentioned an issue of the magazine focused on single working mothers with me on the cover. I don’t know how I feel about being featured, but I love the idea of highlighting some amazing single mothers.
Jared looks up from his phone as I approach. If I’d hoped he’d somehow moved on from the venom he spewed my way after the fodder of the last few weeks went public, I was mistaken. Part of me almost expected him to flake out on this meeting in the first place. Then again, Jared must have the last word, so I’m sure he plans to put me in my place today.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“Well, that’s on you. I said two, and it’s five ‘til.”
“Whatever. I don’t know why I’m here. We’re done. I’m not taking you back.”
Confused by his statement, I can’t help but laugh. Is he serious right now? He won’t take me back? I’m not the one who cheated.
“I don’t want to get back
together, Jared.”
“On with it then. I don’t have all day.”
Fine. You want to be a dick. Here it goes.
“I’m pregnant.”
Nothing. He says nothing. He doesn’t blink. He simply stares at me. His gaze drifts to my midsection, but I’m sitting, so he can’t see much beyond my flowy tunic.
“And that’s my problem, why? I read the paper, Sophie. I know you’ve been slutting it up around town.”
“Fuck you, Jared. I haven’t been doing anything. After I caught you with Maddie, I thought I should get checked for diseases.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I lift my hand to stop him.
“Don’t. You were fucking Maddie behind my back for months, and I have no doubt she wasn’t the only one. Imagine my surprise when instead of being told you gave me an STD, I discovered you gave me a baby.”
“We hardly had sex. There’s no way it’s mine. That baseball asshole you’ve been fucking probably dumped your ass and you need someone to take care of you. Well, that’s not me.”
I blanch at the harshness of his words and the absolute disgust in his tone.
“I’m five months pregnant, Jared. You and I were together five months ago.”
He scoffs. “Yeah right, you probably cheated.”
“You—” I yell, but then realize that we’re in public and rein in my anger. “You cheated, Jared, not me. Don’t project the crap you did on to me. This baby is yours.”
“And what do you want? Money?” He laughs. “Figures.”
“No, I felt you had the right to know. If you would like to be part of your child’s life, we’ll work something out. Otherwise, I’m prepared to do this on my own.”
“Good, because that’s exactly how you’ll be doing it.”
Without another word, he gets up and stomps out the door. Sitting back in my seat, the barista walks up to me. She hesitates before stopping next to our table.
“Umm…”
“You can’t be serious?”
“He said you would be ordering something and to leave his ticket open.”
Of course he did. Again, what did I ever see in him? I hand the sweet girl a ten and leave without ordering a drink myself. I knew this meeting would be frustrating regardless of the outcome. On the off-chance Jared wants to be part of the baby’s life, I need to reconcile having him and any woman he’s with, even if it’s Maddie, in our world forever. Or, if things end like they just did, I’ll be doing this alone.
After seeing the way he reacted to my pregnancy, I’m relieved he won’t be part of our lives. Our child will be better off without him as a role model.
Shaking off the thoughts of Jared lingering in my mind, I climb behind the wheel of my car and text Kendall.
Me: I’m done.
Kendall: And? Did he step up?
Me: Nope.
Kendall: Good.
Kendall: How are you?
Me: Okay. I think. I don’t know.
Kendall: Want to grab some dinner?
Me: Sure. I’m going to get a pedicure. If I can’t have wine to drown my sorrows, at least I can get a foot massage.
Kendall: Thatta girl.
Placing my phone in the cupholder, I pull out of my parking space and head for the nail salon. A little self-care is never a bad thing. As I switch the station on my radio, I tell myself I’m only listening because I’m a fan of the team, not the first baseman.
Just as I’m pulling up to the nail salon, announcer says, “And it’s out of here. Another homerun from the Aces’ first baseman.”
I don’t fight the smile that takes over my face. Pride fills my chest as the commentators talk about his stats so far for the season and his contribution to the team. But the sadness of missing him is never quite gone from the same spot.
25
* * *
BRAXTON
Never in my life have I wished baseball season to be over. Like stepping away from my pregame routine, I guess there’s a first time for everything. Our travel and game schedule wasere intense the last few weeks of the season, without the hype of the postseason.
We’re in the final stretch of away games, and I’m counting down the minutes until I can catch my flight out of here. Chicago fans are brutal when it comes to the opposing team, and normally, that would fuel my fire. Push me to play harder. To talk more shit. Not tonight.
As soon as the ump calls the final out, I’m one step closer to where I really want to be. Coach agreed to let me catch an earlier flight right after tomorrow’s games instead of heading home with the rest of the team the next day. It’s on my own dime, but that’s nothing if it means I get to see Sophie.
She’s been ghosting me the last few weeks, and I need to know why. I left so many voice messages the first few days that the automated recording said her mailbox was full. My text messages went unanswered, and the flowers I sent were never acknowledged. Not one message. Nothing but silence. Then about four days after the shit hit the fan with the press, I realized she changed her number. It makes sense. If I found it on her website, I’m sure the press did too. My final attempt to contact her was a plea through her website. Nothing.
Our catcher, Collins, steps up to the locker next to mine, but his attention is on me and not his clothes. “Better make sure you still have your balls, Lee. I think that chick might’ve snagged them and ran off.”
“Fuck you, Collins.”
The entire team busts out laughing, including Collins. I don’t find humor in his statement. Mostly because he’s not wrong. While my actual balls are still firmly attached to my body, my proverbial balls are resting in Sophie’s hands. I know it; everyone knows it. Well, everyone except for Sophie.
I get it though; being in a relationship with a pro baseball player is not all the glamor the books and movies make it out to be. Our schedule is a lot to handle.
The guys razz each other and make plans for the night as we change into our street clothes. While I prefer to don a pair of well-worn jeans and a T-shirt, the front office requires we wear a collared shirt and jacket. A few of the guys look like they just stepped off the runway with their perfectly tailored suits. I don’t. A dark pair of slacks, a plain white shirt, and a sports coat is about as fancy as I get.
Slowly, we file out of the locker room and down the corridor to the bus waiting to deliver us to the hotel. While some of the guys will call a car service and head out for the night, I’m looking forward to changing out of this suit we’re forced to wear for travel and grabbing a burger and beer in the hotel bar. Before Amber, I would be with them. Letting a woman flank herself on me, making promises of every sexual position imaginable. I learned my lesson, but that doesn’t stop them from asking me to go with them.
“Come on, man, don’t you at least want a blowjob? Relieve some of that tension that’s rollin’ off you?” Collins’s hand slaps down hard on my shoulder as we walk to the hotel lobby.
“Nah, I’m good.” I shrug out of his grasp and catch Spencer’s eye. He won’t be joining the guys either. We all know he’s happily married and will head up to his room to video chat with his family.
“Let’s go grab a drink with them at least,” Spencer says, surprising us all.
“You’re going out?” The shock and confusion are evident in my tone, which earns me a cringeworthy slap on the back. What is with these dicks manhandling me?
Everyone starts high-fiving at the prospect of Spencer joining them. I notice a few women wearing Aces’ colors lingering nearby practically eye-fucking Collins.
Turning my attention to Spencer, I wait for him to tell me he’s kidding. Instead, he says, “We fucking earned a few drinks. Don’t look at me like I’ve never been out with you guys.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go out and have a couple of beers with the team. But only because your asses need a damn babysitter. Who knows what kind of shit you’ll get yourselves into with one of those jersey chasers?” I lift my chin in the direction of the women who aren’t shy
about their interest in my teammates.
Collins laughs. “No worries, dude. I double wrap my shit.”
Filing behind him, Collins leads the group out to the valet where a van is waiting to take us to the club. I sit in the farthest seat back, not wanting to partake in the shit talking or proclamations of how the night will play out.
The club isn’t far from our hotel, and when we pull up in front of the large brick building, security is waiting for us, lining the entry way. Like the attention whore he is, Collins steps out of the van first and tosses the line of people waiting to get inside his megawatt smile.
Inside, the music thumps through the room, and it takes my breath away as each beat pounds deep in my chest. It’s hard to reconcile that only a few years ago, I lived for a place like this. Basking in the attention and indulging in not only booze but women. Now, I feel like an imposter being here. My mind is on Sophie.
Security leads us to the VIP lounge, where plush couches call to me. I settle in and watch as the single—and not so single—guys greet a parade of women. Bottle service begins, and I accept a tumbler from Spencer as he takes the spot next to me. Clinking our glasses, I take a tentative sip of the dark liquid. Two drinks and I’ll order a car to get me back to the hotel. We have a few hours to let loose before the midnight curfew, but I’m not interested in being out that long. The last thing I need is to be on Coach’s shit list and have him revoke my permission to fly home solo.
This isn’t a gentlemen’s club, but you wouldn’t know it by the shenanigans in this private area. Scantily clad women grind on a few of the guys, their hands roaming up the skirts and dresses. The overhead lights catch the metal of a wedding band or two. Not wanting to be part of any of this shit, I stand and move to the railing that looks out over the club below.