Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection)

by Ketley Allison

  Yes. I nod to myself. This is an excellent start to your life, Papaya.

  I sent a few photos over to my mom, and she texted back her excitement and desire to see it in person. In the weeks that followed listening to the voicemail, I never mentioned Michael to her, or asked why she told him I was pregnant.

  Mom visits him.

  I thought about that, but never searched for more information. It makes sense, that my parents still see him. If they’re involved in the appeals, paying for his lawyers.

  I hope it makes sense to them why I’ve erased him from my life.

  A knock on the door has me rushing out of the nursery (as much as I can “rush” these days), emitting a high-pitched squeal from my throat that’s only been happening since my diaphragm has been squished up to my neck.

  Throwing open the door, Carter joins in on my squealing, and Astor offers a wry smile.

  “We’re here!” Carter says and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “Oh my God, I can barely reach around you.”

  “I can barely reach around myself,” I admit, and part with Carter so I can hug Astor. “Come on in.”

  Carter wanders in, becoming a bobblehead as she takes in the apartment that once was hers. “How long has it been since I’ve come here?”

  She sounds so awed that I wonder how much I’ve changed this place. Not a whole lot, since I’m still using our cracked coffee pot.

  “It’s been a minute,” I say. “But I hope you guys are comfortable here. I know it’s not—”

  “Don’t even say it,” Astor cuts in. “I’m cutthroat, not a snob. I can be comfortable anywhere.”

  I have high doubts, but I don’t voice it as I point to the couch. “You’ll have to share this pullout. The second bedroom has been converted to—”

  “A nursery!” Carter screeches, and Astor flinches.

  Carter’s reaction isn’t annoying—it floors me. The last time she was within these walls, a grayness encapsulated her, an utter colorlessness as she wandered these (small) halls, grief-stricken and worn down, doing everything she could to raise a very young baby.

  It makes me wonder, while she’s studying this apartment, whether she sees Paige, or is reminded of that dark time. The nursery used to be Paige’s room.

  As Carter flies into the second bedroom, I’m thankful it only holds signs of a new life.

  I offer Astor a drink, but she declines. “We have to get going. Our reservation at the restaurant is in an hour.”

  “You guys have cut it close.”

  “Not originally. We had to cancel our early morning flight because Ash—” she catches herself.

  “Ash what?”

  Astor puts her hands to her hips. “Sometimes, my matter-of-fact attitude annoys even me.”

  I try again, saying the name that hasn’t been held in my mouth for over a month. “What did Ash do?”

  “He gave us his private plane,” Carter says as she steps out of the nursery. “This really is beautiful, Soph. Where’d you buy that elephant? Lily would—”

  “Don’t change the subject. He hired a plane for you?”

  When Carter reaches me, she puts calming pressure on my arms. “Yes. And we couldn’t say no. All day, Astor was freaking out about the incoming New York storm and whether our flights would be cancelled. If we couldn’t reach you, I’d be heartbroken. I guess we were talking about this at Apron and Ash overheard. He surprised us.”

  “Gave us little choice, actually,” Astor says. “The duplicitous bastard.”

  Carter adds, “Don’t be mad, Soph.”

  “I’m not angry,” I say. “He got you a plane. That’s great. Terrific.”

  Carter eyes me warily. “Is it?”

  “Sure. It means you two could come. What restaurant are we going to?”

  And that is that. I have no further room in my head to think about Ash stepping into the dark corridor of his restaurant, mumbling into his phone to make arrangements for his friends to come visit the baby mama he supposedly washed his hands of.

  Why does he keep doing this stuff?

  Why does he keep popping up and doing nice things, hovering nearby but never wanting to get closer?

  All questions my friends can’t answer. And I shouldn’t burden them with.

  “Some island tiki ocean place.” Astor points to Carter. “All her idea.”

  My smile for Carter is genuine, all thoughts of Ash moving to the back. “I love it.”

  “Let’s go,” Carter says. “We have an afternoon full of surprises for you.”

  “Ah…” I hesitate in moving forward.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be nothing more surprising than realizing you accidentally got knocked up,” Astor says.

  I bark out a laugh. “Thank you for that.”

  “Any time,” Astor says, then offers me her hand. “Let’s see how well you wobble down stairs.”

  The restaurant Carter chose is exactly the type of Florida beachside eatery tourists envision when stepping into the Sunshine State. Fake palm trees, drinks with bright umbrellas, mounted fish on the walls and fishermen’s netting with shells and license plates caught within the weaves adorn the wooden walls.

  Only thing missing is an ocean. This particular place overlooks the highway.

  I love it.

  Carter and I share the same weakness for kitschy, over-the-top dive bars drenched in neon. She booked us a table in the back, bordered by large windows. Our outside view is a decorative sandbox with seashells, plastic lobsters, a blow-up alligator, and parking spaces. The table itself is covered with wrapped presents, polka-dots, and ribbons galore.

  “Holy crap,” I say.

  “Is this place great or what?” Carter asks.

  Astor takes her seat with wary precision, scanning the interior like it contains tourists waiting to ask her to take their picture. “It’s … interesting.”

  “It’s perfect,” I say, and plop down across from Astor. “Right down to the starfish coasters. And you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

  “Are you kidding?” Carter says. “This was fun. I love picking out baby clothes. And, anything I have of Lily’s, it’s all yours. I’ve saved everything.”

  Sheesh, I’m crying. I hold Carter’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “You may not thank me if it’s a boy.” Carter laughs. “Because he’ll be in lots of pink.”

  “I love pink on boys,” I say, and look down at Papaya. “But I have a feeling this is a girl.”

  “Really?” Carter asks. “Lily’s getting a bestie?”

  Astor’s interest is piqued. “What makes you say that?”

  “I dunno. A feeling, I guess. And I’ve had a few dreams that it’s a little girl.”

  “Motherhood is so weird,” Astor says.

  “You’re telling me,” I reply. “My boobs tingle every time I hear a baby cry now.”

  “We went ahead and chose the dishes in advance,” Carter says as she sits next to me. “As well as the virgin cocktails.”

  “There better be alcohol in mine,” Astor says.

  “Yes, your Blue Pelican Paradise contains rum,” Carter assured.

  “You know me so well.”

  A waiter comes and sets down Astor’s drink, as well as mine and Carter’s. I’m tickled to notice Carter specifically chose pink and blue cocktails.

  “This is amazing,” I say as I take a sip. Gah. Lots of cream and coconut.

  “That’s the Pink Parrot Passion. And just you wait. More’s coming,” Carter says.

  I sit back and take it all in, Carter chatting beside me and Astor warming up the more she drinks her spiked sugar. Papaya kicks in agreement, and my lips tick up into a gentle smile.

  Almost time.

  Appetizers come, more fried than fresh, and I gobble them down, enjoying the greasy salt and all the ways to use cocktail sauce. My appetite—thank God—has stretched past clementines and smoothies, and I now eat by the gallon.

  “Ready for your
next surprise?” Carter says, and I stop chewing long enough to notice her impish grin.

  I stiffen. The logical part of me says there’s no way they brought Ash along with them, but another, indecipherable feeling in me wishes they did.

  Carter jostles my shoulder and points to the entrance. “Look.”

  With short breaths, I turn. It’s not him. It won’t be him. He doesn’t—

  Mom.

  I gasp. “Mom!”

  As much as I’m able, I fly out of my seat and speed-waddle to my mother, who looks lovely in a floral sundress, shoulder-length blonde hair, and little makeup. Her arms open up as soon as she spots me, and she laughs as I engulf her.

  “Sophie! Look at you!”

  “You’re here!” I say into her neck, and yep, I start bawling.

  “Oh, baby,” she says, stroking my hair and rocking us in place, back and forth.

  The restaurant disappears. The neon doesn’t hurt my eyes anymore. I had no idea how much I missed her until her scent brings back every childhood memory.

  Chanel No. 5. My mom’s one splurge.

  I pull back enough to take her in. Make sure she’s real. “How did you get here? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it was a surprise, silly. Your girlfriends over there set it up.”

  I look back in time to see Carter and Astor high-five each other.

  “I didn’t think … how did you get the time off?”

  Mom is a cardiac nurse in Chicago, where she and Dad moved a few years ago. There were times I’ve been desperate to call her, but with her crazy schedule and our history, I’ve never picked up the phone.

  Ever since Michael … everything’s been different. Difficult.

  Having her here, though, with her hands moving across my belly in awe, and witnessing the sheer joy in her face as she feels her grandchild kick for the first time, makes me wish I had called her so much sooner.

  “We have to sit down,” I say, laughing as we continue to embrace, then pull apart so she can feel my stomach, then embrace again. “We’re taking up valuable real estate. I’m as big as two people.”

  “Of course, yes,” Mom says, and she weaves an arm through mine, and we walk out of the high traffic entrance to our table.

  “Guys, this is my mom. Luanne Addison,” I say to my friends when we approach.

  Carter jumps up. “It’s so good to finally meet you!”

  “Sweet girl, you too.” Mom accepts Carter’s hug. “Thank you so much for getting in touch with me.”

  As Astor stands, Mom gathers her in a hug, too. “Sophie is so lucky to have you two.”

  “Meh, they’re okay,” I say with a smile as we resume our seats. Mom sits next to Astor.

  Now that I’m given the chance to truly appraise my mom, I notice the dark bruises underneath her eyes, the tired lines around the corners. Her shifts can be brutal, especially at night, but I’d be a complete idiot if I didn’t consider the obvious.

  My brother’s set to be executed.

  “Your father wanted to come,” Mom says, and I lift my drink to break myself out of the way I’m staring at her. “But he’s been held up with—” She cuts a glance at both Carter and Astor. “Work.”

  If work means Michael, I want to say. But I’m terrified to give any indication I’m aware of what she’s talking about. I don’t want to know his execution date. I don’t want to focus on anything but Papaya.

  “What does your dad do?” Astor asks politely.

  “He used to be in sanitation,” Mom replies.

  Astor angles her head. “Used to?”

  I gulp back a lot of frozen Pink Parrot. Astor, while a great interviewer, can’t know that my brother’s stand-off with the police and eventual arrest broke my father. He couldn’t get out of bed, barely ate, and after he used up all his vacation days, he lost his job. With the way our family was treated after Michael’s arrest, I firmly believe he was also let go because the city didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He hasn’t worked since, and Mom has done everything she can to keep them afloat. As soon as I could, I got off her payroll so she didn’t have to worry about me anymore.

  “Retired,” Mom says kindly. “So, what are we all having?”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say.

  No one questions a pregnant woman’s bladder. I need a minute alone, to process my mother’s company, and all the flashbacks she brings with her.

  “You need help, honey?” she asks.

  “I’m fine.” The chair scrapes back as I stand. “Tell them to serve the entrées, though. I’ll be right back.”

  I make it to the back hallway where the restrooms are, and put a hand against the wall, breathing deep.

  I’m so happy my mother’s here. But she comes with such brutal realization.

  “Honey.” Mom’s hand comes to my lower back, rubbing. “It’s all right.”

  My eyes are scrunched shut, and I continue facing away from her. “This isn’t because I’m unhappy you’ve come.”

  “I know that, Soph.”

  Her voice is soft, comforting, and takes me back to the times of my night terrors, when she’d rush into my bedroom and stay long after I fell asleep. I was seventeen.

  “I can’t handle my emotions sometimes,” I admit. “The hormones, they’re everywhere.”

  “I know that, too. It’s okay, honey.”

  Spinning to face her, I blurt, “When is his execution date?”

  Mom blinks. “We don’t have to talk about that today. This is your baby shower.”

  “But it’s on your mind. Mine. He left me a voicemail, telling me his final appeal was denied.”

  Mom nods slowly, but the visceral pain is evident behind her stare. “It was.”

  “Has a date been set?”

  “It’s why your father isn’t here. Anything to do with Michael, he bursts into life, calling lawyers, demanding information. He’s flown to Georgia in an effort to understand what happens next.”

  “You’re not saying the date, Mom.”

  Mom takes hold of my hands. “Because I don’t want to upset you. You have a new baby coming, and I have so many questions and want to help in any way I can. Talking about Michael just—”

  “When is it?”

  Mom presses her lips together, searching my eyes. Then says, “Six weeks from now.”

  I breathe out heavily.

  “He wants to see you,” Mom says.

  I’m shaking my head before she finishes her sentence.

  “Honey, I understand why you don’t want to. Believe me, I do. But I also know what true regret feels like. What he did was abhorrent. But he’s your brother.”

  “Mom, please—”

  “You should say goodbye.”

  “I can’t do this right now.” I push away from the wall. “You’re right. This is the wrong time to talk about it.”

  “Honey, I wish so badly I didn’t have to do this to you. Especially how far along you are. But I’m worried about you. I’m worried about your choices, and what Michael’s crime has done to you—”

  “Mom.” My voice cracks on the word.

  “He’s going to die, Sophie. There is no going back.”

  I can’t hold it in any longer. “He killed fourteen people! Innocent kids, people with families! For no reason other than his own selfish delusions! And what about us, huh? He didn’t give a shit about the aftermath. About the death threats his family would start receiving, the complete outcasts we’d become. We had to change our names, Mom, to get away from it all. We had to become different people and leave our lives behind, because he thought a gun could solve all his problems.”

  Mom’s lips start to tremble. “There’s no need to go into such detail. Please keep your voice down.”

  “I know he’s my brother,” I say, softer, “and that he’s your son. I can’t imagine what this is doing to you. But he made his choice, and I’m making mine. We said our goodbyes the morning he decided to become a mass m
urderer. He forced the severing of our ties a long time ago.”

  Mom pushes forward at the same time I back away from her. “Baby—”

  I back into softness. “Shit, sorry!”

  I turn, but the hands on my shoulders are steadying. When I look up, it’s Astor.

  And she’s expressionless.

  “I was … I was just checking on you guys,” she says. “Making sure you didn’t go into early labor.”

  “Astor,” I say dumbly.

  “We’re fine, dear,” Mom says. She wipes under her eyes. “Sophie and I haven’t seen each other in a while, hence the tears.”

  “Uh-huh,” Astor says, but she’s looking at me with that gaze of hers, the one that says no bullshit and that she heard everything.

  I silently plead with her not to say anything. I don’t want to hurt my mother further.

  “Is the food ready?” Mom asks. She smooths her hair. “I’m starved.”

  “It’s waiting for us,” Astor says.

  Nodding and including a bright smile, my mother hooks both our arms. “Lead the way, then.”

  My feet move, but they’re leaden. I sit, but the wood is uncomfortable. Eat, but everything tastes like plastic.

  Astor knows. Ash knows. It’s teaching me that there might be no way I can keep my family history away from this baby.

  “You want another drink?” Carter asks me, completely oblivious.

  To Astor’s credit, she’s acting like her usual self, asking my mom basic, safe questions, and giving no hint that she heard my brother’s on Death Row.

  “I’m okay,” I say to Carter. I want to go home. “Should we open presents now?”

  “After our key lime pie dessert,” Carter says, elbowing me. “Your favorite.”

  Please let that pie be on its way. I glance around, hoping to see a helpful waitress carrying the tray and speeding this baby shower along. It’s ungrateful, and an insult to Carter’s efforts, but Michael’s execution has created a dark pallor to this day, my mom’s presence only amplifying the shadows. Maybe, once I escape this restaurant, I can go back to normal. My normal. Sitting in a new nursery and making it my happy place.

  My scan halts at the entrance. Freezes in place.