by L. M. Carr
Wearing a pair of shorts, sneakers and a t-shirt, Julian leans against the doorframe. “Ready!”
Laughing, I fill a water bottle for him and press it into his chest. “I might even let you win today.”
He grabs me by the waist, spins me around and pulls me close. “Don’t you worry about my stamina. You know I can go for a long time.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Not when it comes to running. You might be faster, but I can run longer.”
A devious grin spreads across his face. “Sooner or later, I’ll catch up to you… I always do.”
We run out of the building and pound the pavement through the quiet streets of Houston. Most of the windows are marked with red, white and blue, displaying their team spirit. Small pennants hang from the light poles, leading the way to the stadium.
“Are you excited about the game?” I call over my shoulder, Julian trailing behind me.
“What? I can’t hear you?” He laughs, pushing himself to run harder, picking up speed. “Jesus, woman. You don’t play fair.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I chased you long enough.” He grabs my arm and slows me down. “Let’s enjoy this together.”
Warmth spreads in my heart as he leans toward me. “I love—” My words are interrupted when he takes off, sprinting ahead of me and touching the door to our building.
“You’re such a cheater!” I punch his arm, then struggle against him when he pulls me flush against his chest. My hand slides down his sweat-drenched shirt and over the bulge in his shorts. Smirking, I take his manhood in my palm and squeeze, snickering when he sucks in a breath, eyes wide.
“Addison,” he breathes nervously as he tries to step away, but my hold is firm, making him grimace.
“Who’s in control now?” I smirk, constricting the hold on his balls. “I wield the power.”
“Let’s take this upstairs.”
I smirk.
“You know I like it when you take charge.”
He kisses me and tries to step out of my hold when I open the door.
My eyes darken and I shake my head. Maintaining my grip, I lead him inside and press the elevator button with my free hand. “Seems I’m taking charge of a lot of things these days.”
The door to the penthouse barely closes before I fulfill the promise I made earlier.
Afterward, Julian gazes down at me on the couch, panting. “That was different. Amazing, but different.”
I smile coyly. “I feel different.”
§
Although I normally drive myself to work, I decide to ride with Julian today. I don’t want to miss a single opportunity with him.
As I sit on the couch in his office and work from my laptop, he reviews the game plan and checks his emails. His hum draws my attention.
“This is interesting. Seems Alonzo Richie isn’t playing today. Wonder why.”
I clear my throat, worried my verbal response might reveal my knowledge. “Really? Does it give any details?”
He shakes his head. “Knowing him, he probably got into a fight. I never liked him. Was always running his mouth. Maybe he finally fucked with the wrong person.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, closing my device and rising, needing to meet my team.
I stand behind his leather chair and run my fingers through his hair. “I love you. I’m so happy I could be here today.”
Tipping his head back, he looks at me with a smile on his face. “I love you, too, baby. And you have no idea how happy it makes me that you’re here.”
“Good luck today.” I place a kiss on his forehead, then his lips.
I depart his office, turn and watch him through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Stopping momentarily, I raise my hands.
Your mom would be proud of you.
He smiles sadly and nods before lifting his hands. Always with me.
§
“You probably shouldn’t show your bias for your husband’s team,” Melody laughs, pointing to the jersey I’ve slid over my red shirt.
I smile in return. “I’ll take it off before we go live, but can you blame me?”
An hour later, the stadium is covered in a sea of red, white and blue as excited spectators rise to their feet, cheering in anticipation of the home team making their grand entrance. Music blares through the speakers and lights flash from the gigantic screens stationed at both ends, making it difficult to hear what’s being said in my earpiece. The cheerleaders stand in two lines and wave metallic pompoms above their heads, riling the crowd up for the moment the pyrotechnics begin. The mascot appears first, followed by the flags that spell out the team.
An eruption of boisterous applause ensues when the players appear and rush out onto the turf with its freshly painted white lines. I smile when I see Rence, but my heart explodes with immense pride and happiness when the NFL’s sexiest head coach appears. Jogging out through the tunnel with his coaching staff, Julian looks focused and determined as he stops on the sidelines and joins his team.
“It’s game time.” I motion for Billy, camera in hand, to follow me.
I position myself on the sidelines and wait to hear the cue from the analysts in the studio. When it comes, the enthusiasm ramps up when Billy turns the camera on the fans. I walk over to the spectators, their fists banging against the partition.
“What are you hoping to see today?” I ask a group of fans.
“I wanna see Hamilton sack that pretty boy quarterback!” one yells.
“I’m just here for the head coach. He’s so hot!” a woman to his left shouts.
I smile and wink. “Me, too!”
Turning back to the camera, I update the studio on the injuries and any new, relevant information.
“Any word on Alonzo Richie?” Carter White, one of the analysts back in the studio, asks.
I tighten my lips and shake my head. “Not really. There was some mention of him not only running the ball, but also his mouth.” I shrug. “Whatever that means.”
Each analyst asks about particular strategies, and I answer each one based on the team interviews I conducted over the past two days.
“All right, guys! That’s it from here for now. Back to you.”
When Billy gives me the signal, I lower the microphone.
“Do I look as nervous as I feel?”
He frowns. “Nervous? You’re a natural.”
I smile tightly. “Thanks. But this is the first time I actually get to watch Julian coach. Like, in person.”
He returns the smile. “I know.”
Each quarter passes, the teams exchanging touchdowns. The excitement on the field and in the stands is palpable. It’s been a close game, and fans are on their feet, screaming and rooting for their team.
With minutes left on the clock, my brother muscles through the block and sacks the quarterback for a huge loss of yardage. On the next play, he tips a thrown ball, then catches it. After bobbling it for a second, he tucks it against his chest and runs down the field for a touchdown.
I pull my phone out just in time to capture Julian congratulating Rence with a smile and pat on the helmet.
With a final score of 35-28, Billy and I rush onto the field to interview key players and the winning coach.
I run to Rence first. “Congrats on the win! You don’t score many touchdowns. How did that feel?”
He grins, towering above me, smeared eye black on his face. “It was fucking awesome!”
My eyes widen as I turn to the camera and grimace. “Uh… Sorry, folks. I think this guy might have a mild concussion.” I laugh to cover my brother’s verbal indiscretion and quickly turn to him. “Go enjoy the win!”
Julian, absolutely elated, is escorted over by a security guard. He gives me his full attention, despite the cheering and words of congratulations from others gathered around us. Trying desperately to contain his enthusiasm, he places his hands on his waist and leans down to hear me.
“Coach MacIntyre, congratulations on the win
. It was a close one, the scoreboard going back and forth right up until the end. Tell me a little bit about your strategy.”
Julian nods. “This was a big game for us. We spent a lot of time watching film, making adjustments where needed.” He blinks rapidly. “You know, if given the opportunity, anybody could become a play maker and change the course of the game.”
I swallow the rising emotion when I realize he’s not just referring to what happened on the field. “I couldn’t agree more.”
When his name is called, I smile. “I know you’ve got to get going. Celebrate your victory! It’s well-deserved.”
Julian throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “Thanks, baby!” he says, then kisses the top of my head. He looks into the camera and points at me. “I love this woman!”
Stunned, I stand there, mouth gaping wide open as he walks away. I shake my head in disbelief, giggling as I send it back to the studio.
“Well, that’s a first,” Maurice Tolson, a former linebacker now analyst, says in my ear.
I exit the field as the team and their fans continue to celebrate. Overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions, I head inside and wait for the post-game press conference to begin. Sitting there, I pull out my phone, open the notes section and begin tapping the screen.
Chapter Thirty
Coming off the high of today’s win, Julian’s desire for me is ravenous. He’s absolutely insatiable, even waking me up twice during the night.
With the stamina of an eighteen-year-old, Julian drives into me. My hands claw at his back as we find our perfect rhythm until he grunts through his release and finally rolls over, falling into a deep slumber.
Smirking, I reach for my phone, open the app and recover the letter I’d drafted earlier in the day. I add a few more lines before setting the phone down. I stare at my sleeping husband and sigh. How is it possible to love one person so much? How, out of billions of people on this planet, did this one man capture my heart so fiercely?
The following morning, Julian and I head to our respective places of employment. The excitement about his team’s victory is still fresh on his mind, but the meeting I have with Wes weighs heavily and dampens my mood.
During my commute, I turn off the radio and drive in silence. I need the last few minutes to be sure I’ve made the right decision, and although I’d have the option to rescind, I don’t want anyone to think I’m not a hundred percent committed to this.
“What a game!” Wes comments when I enter his office. “You looked fabulous and did a great job, as always.”
I smirk, pulling out the seat in front of his desk. “Funny.”
“I’m sure your husband was happy about the win.”
“Extremely.”
He tilts his head. “So why do you look so…unhappy?”
“I’m not!” I insist. “I’m just a little…” I look away briefly, then return my gaze to his, “apprehensive.”
Worry mars my boss’ face. “What’s going on, AJ?”
After retrieving the letter from my bag, I set it onto his desk and slide the two pages across the wooden surface. Wes lifts it, putting his glasses on. I watch with rapt attention as he scans the lines I’ve written. He inhales sharply, sets the papers down and looks at me.
“I’m not surprised.”
I swallow. “You’re not?”
“No. I knew you wouldn’t stay here forever. You’re destined for much bigger things.”
“I haven’t even told Julian yet,” I offer with a smile.
He blows out a breath. “The execs are going to want a specific date.”
I nod, swallowing down my emotions as I gaze around the office I’ve sat in countless times. “I know. I’m heading up there now, but the answer is two weeks.”
“I have to admit, I’m going to miss you,” Wes murmurs, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Who am I going to pester now?”
I snicker. “Curt is always available.”
He stands and steps around the desk, pulling me into a hug, his lips inches from my ear. “By the way, I heard about what happened with Asher. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I hope you stick it to that bloody arsehole.”
I nod. With the court date now set and Santino Lugano’s expertise, Ed Asher will get exactly what he deserves.
I ride the elevator to the eleventh floor. Sitting in front of the executives and human resources, I answer their questions as honestly as possible. Despite knowing I’m doing the right thing, it’s still hard.
The rest of my day is relatively dull, only having to attend a meeting about a new show the network’s planning. Driving home, I make a stop at a local sporting goods store to make a small purchase.
Stepping onto the elevator in the building, my finger hovers over the button for Naomi’s floor. I have so much to share with her, but the need to get home and make a nice dinner for my husband supersedes.
When I walk through the door, I’m surprised to see Julian sitting on the couch, TV off, yet staring at it.
“Hey. What’s going on?” Worry and concern drip from my voice as I drop the bags in my hand and make my way over to him. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
He sighs heavily and leans forward, resting his head in his palms.
“Are you sick?” I ask, squatting down in front of him and pulling his hands away from his head.
“Am I not enough for you? Do you not trust me?
I blink at him, confused. “What?”
I see immense pain in his eyes when he looks at me. “Addison, I’m your husband.”
“Of course you are,” I chuckle nervously. “Did something happen?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” From behind the cushion to his left, he pulls out a large manila envelope and tosses it onto the coffee table, its contents spilling out. “Why the fuck would you keep this from me?”
I swallow hard when I see the images and the court documents. “I can explain.”
“I’m all ears.” He sits back and crosses his arms.
Years of regret rise and threaten to undo me.
“After you left me—”
“Jesus Christ! We’re back to this?” he shouts, laying his head back onto the couch and scrubbing his hands over his face.
“Please, let me finish.”
At his nod, I continue.
“After you left me, I was shattered and miserable. I didn’t care about anything or anyone, especially myself. I was so hurt, and in my twisted mind, sleeping with guys was my way of somehow getting back at you. I know it doesn’t make sense, but then again, nothing back then did.” Tears fill my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. “With everything that happened with my father and you—”
“You’ve already told me all this, Addison. We’ve been through this before.”
“Julian, Alonzo wasn’t just going to expose the images of me. He was going to hurt you in the process. I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are now.”
He finally looks at me. “And you haven’t? We should’ve dealt with this together.”
I open my mouth, but he continues.
“And you know what’s even worse? You know what kills me the most?” he scoffs. “You went to your brother about this. He’s dealing with his own shit right now, but more importantly, it’s my job to protect you, not his!”
I gasp. “He told you?”
“No,” he snaps. “Apparently, not all the cameras went down that day. Security brought it to my attention, so what should’ve been a private matter no longer is.”
“I’m sorry,” I cry. “I was trying to protect you from the mess I’d created.”
“You didn’t do this. Alonzo Richie, or Demarcus Richardson…whatever the fuck his name is…did.”
“But if I’d never slept with him—”
Julian jumps to his feet and nearly knocks me over when he stomps out of the room, swearing like a sailor.
A surge of feelings overwhelms me and I cover my face, sobbing into my pal
ms.
“Here,” Julian says, throwing two notebooks and several pens down onto the coffee table. “Start writing.”
I wipe the moisture from my face, sniffling. “What? What am I supposed to write?”
“The name of every guy you ever slept with.”
“Why? Why would you ask me to do that?” I cry harder.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to do it, too.”
Reaching for a pen, Julian sits on the couch, opens a notebook and writes my name. “Go on,” he commands, prompting me to pick one up and sit beside him, beginning the task of listing my lovers. With each name comes a memory, salty tears pouring from my eyes.
“Done?” he asks, closing the notebook in his hands.
Embarrassed, I shake my head.
Julian hands me his notebook. “Here. Read mine.”
My stomach roils and I cover my mouth.
“Read all the names of the women I’ve fucked.”
“Julian, please…,” I whimper, but he nods at the paper.
“Go on.”
I open to the first page and see my name scribbled across diagonally. I turn to the next. Blank. Continuing to turn pages, I only see blank paper…until I get to the last page where my name is written again.
“I don’t understand,” I say, looking up at him. “The pages are blank, but I know you were with countless women. You said so yourself.”
“Addison,” he murmurs, cupping my face. “The only names that matter are the first and last. Each one in between means nothing.” Moisture pools in his eyes. “So, please, stop giving any of those guys another thought. They’re in the past.” He gently presses his lips against mine.
I nod and wrap my arms around his neck. “I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
His hand smooths over my hair. “Baby, we need to do this together. You have to be honest with me. Promise you won’t keep anything from me again.”
Sniffling, I nod. “Well, in that case…” I release him and stand, walking to the front door to grab my bag. “Here.” I hand him a copy of the letter I’d submitted earlier today.
Curiosity wrinkles his forehead as he unfolds the paper. “Am I going to be mad about this?”
