Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  All I hear is the echo of her telling me she loves me, too.

  I can work with that.

  “Thank you for the beautiful baby blankets.”

  “You’re so welcome.” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes like we’re age-old friends. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

  I don’t know this person. She might be from Alex’s circle of friends and family, but she might also be related to the team somehow. Either way, I don’t want to be anything less than gracious to the guests who have shown up to celebrate my impending motherhood with gifts. My own family has acted like this party is a funeral rather than a celebration of life.

  “I will.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not necessarily the truth either. I don’t have her contact information let alone her name.

  There are more people currently in this house than there have likely been in the entire three years that Alex has owned it.

  “Because I want you to celebrate this new chapter in your life instead of grieving what you feel you’ve lost,” Alex said last night in bed.

  Even after I slapped him, once all our overnight guests were settled in their rooms, he peeled off my sweaty dress oh-so-carefully, wrapped his aching limbs around me, and held me close to him until the dawn of this exhausting day.

  Something has changed though. He’s been distant and subdued in affect. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, he’s probably taken a pain pill. If not more than one. That’s incredibly worrisome.

  I can explain why my family has been acting like they’re mourning instead of celebrating all day. I cannot think of any good reason why Alex is mirroring their behavior by potentially abusing prescription medication as a false coping skill. I glance at his mother, but she’s all smiles and happily chatting away with a few guests. To my knowledge, they haven’t been alone together since everyone arrived yesterday.

  Luckily, someone who knows him quite well hovers nearby, laughing as her baby crawls on the floor. The little boy is mesmerized by tissue paper. He grabs a fistful of it, holds it up to inspect, then shakes it around like a silent rattle.

  A strange mixture of guilt and happiness swirls in my chest as I stand beside Evie to watch the entertainment her son provides. I feel somewhat responsible for the way Alex latched onto her in my absence. Rationally, I understand I’m not to blame for someone else’s actions, but that doesn’t prevent my heart from aching—for both of us.

  “He is four months old now, yes?”

  She nods.

  “He is an early bloomer. Perhaps he will be athletic like his father.”

  “Perhaps,” she says, her voice tight.

  I’ve been walking on eggshells since yesterday, trying to balance being gracious to Alex’s friends and family while maintaining some semblance of emotional self-care. The jealousy I nurtured for this woman in silence seems even more misplaced now than it ever has.

  “I hope we can find some time to get to know each other better while you’re visiting.” I don’t want to continue viewing her through the lens that Alex provides. She’s a force in her own right. One that I would like to learn more about on my own instead of through second-hand reporting.

  Regardless of my personal feelings or Alex’s mistakes, these people are important to him. They will undoubtedly be part of my baby’s life.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Evie whispers as she glances around at the other guests.

  It’s obvious she appreciates that we don’t have much privacy currently. Which makes me all the more curious as to why she thinks becoming friends isn’t a good idea. And why she doesn’t want to reveal the reasons for her refusal.

  I lick my lips then push the envelope in ways I probably wouldn’t if not for creating a harmonious situation for my child. “Why not?”

  She faces me, and I immediately understand why Alex allowed himself to fall. She isn’t a victim of her life circumstances. She’s the storm that sweeps away everything in her path. She’s fierce, fascinating, and furious.

  I’m in her path now. She’s several inches shorter than me, but it doesn’t matter. I shiver beneath the weight of her gaze. “Fine. You want to do this here and now? Let’s get down to business.”

  I brace myself for the full force of her obvious wrath.

  She leans forward, narrows her eyes, then hisses, “Are you screwing him?”

  “Yes,” I admit. I don’t personally care for sharing details of my intimate life, but I already know lying to this woman won’t be tolerated.

  She nods then crosses her arms over her chest. This posture typically indicates self-defense, but coming from her, it’s a stance of power. Power that she clearly feels the need to press on me. “What is it you’re after then? Money? Fifteen seconds of fame? Name your price, and I’ll pay it.”

  “Excuse me?” I don’t mean to sound stupid and further incriminate myself under the scales of her judgment, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  Being introduced to so many people last night seemed overwhelming at the time. In hindsight, that was the easy part. Everyone’s personalities and behaviors have flipped so dramatically today that I’m suddenly feeling like the stable one even though my pregnancy hormones make me feel less stable than ever before in my life.

  “What’s going on?”

  I take a step back and place my hands over my belly when another important woman in Alex’s life appears at Evie’s side, matching her offensive posture. Tori Russo was only introduced to me this morning, but I’m aware that she’s Mike’s girlfriend. I’ve heard as much about her from Alex as I have about Evie. By the look in her eyes, I’m guessing she’s not interested in kindling a genuine friendship either.

  Evie whispers, “I’m trying to figure out whether Amira is a gold digger or a jersey chaser. Either way, we’re not going to let her fuck over Alex this way.”

  Oh. Ohhh. When Evie asked if I was screwing Alex, she did not mean it in the literal sense.

  Tori’s expression scrunches into one of clear confusion. “When did we decide she’s either a gold digger or a jersey chaser?”

  It’s interesting that she uses the word we and does not question Evie’s assumptions. I read several dissertations by fellow PhD candidates during my grad school years that posited significant others of professional athletes experience a similar type of team mentality that rivals that of their husbands. Wives of elite athletes band together to protect not only their husbands but the teams they play for. It is very much an insider group of women who rely on each other for support in an extravagant life that few outside their social circle can understand.

  “Oh,” Evie drags out, tapping a finger against her chin in a show of thought. “Right about the time Rob and I figured out Alex isn’t the father of her baby.”

  My eyes widen in an automatic response that guarantees the betrayal of that closely-guarded secret.

  Tori’s eyes widen, too. She glances at me with a decidedly less friendly look than she bestowed on me when she arrived with gifts in hand. “Oh, really?”

  Part of me wishes I hadn’t pressed the issue of Evie’s refusal to get to know each other. A smaller, less expected part of me breathes a sigh of relief that these women know the truth. I can’t explain why, and I don’t have time to self-reflect.

  I also have no defense to mount in my favor.

  “Why?” Evie presses. “Why are you doing this to him?”

  I don’t have to respond.

  A strong arm wraps around my shoulders and does it for me.

  “No,” Alex commands in a firm tone. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I can read a room as well as any guy. Whatever you two are accusing Amira of, the answer is no.”

  “Alex,” Evie pleads on a whisper. “Why are you doing this to yourself? Let us help you.”

  He snorts a little too loudly. “What? Like you wanted people to help you when you needed it? You wanted to be treated like a capable woman who could make her o
wn decisions. Don’t be a hypocrite, Falls. Give us the same courtesy.”

  He slurs a few of his words.

  I sigh and study him carefully. “How many?”

  At least now I know why everyone is acting so differently today.

  He stares at me like my question hasn’t punctured through the obvious opiate trance he’s under. Finally, he seems to understand. He frowns as he admits, “Four. My knee’s killing me, but I didn’t want to ruin today.” He directs a glare at the women still holding their proverbial claws out. “Unlike some selfish people.”

  Tori cocks her head back in obvious offense. “How are we being selfish by defending you?”

  “You’re both women,” he spits. “How about a little understanding, huh? She’s ready to pop. You two can’t empathize with that enough to hold off on whatever this little hazing ritual is?”

  My gaze and Evie’s snaps to Tori, who wraps her hands around her stomach and pales. It’s a remarkable feat since she’s already so pasty white. “I—what makes you think I can empathize with being pregnant?”

  “Please,” Alex scoffs. “It’s obvious you’re knocked up. I don’t know why you and Mike are keeping it a big secret from everyone, but at least don’t act like we’re all stupid.”

  “We’ll come back to that later,” Evie insists before returning her attention to me and Alex. “We don’t have as much time to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

  Alex blinks. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  Oh, no. He’s already on edge with his mother’s presence. He can’t possibly think clearly with the meds in his system. I try to latch onto him, but he steps between me and the other women like an immovable wall. One made of solid muscle that’s trembling with rage.

  “Alex, no,” I hiss.

  He either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. “Listen up because I’m only going to say this once. You wanna get to her? You’ll go through me. You can’t play nice? You’ll answer to me. You have questions? You’ll ask me. She is with me. Whatever stupid-ass problems you have in your relationships aren’t how Amira and I do things. You’re not going to come between us the way you let other people come between you and Mike or Rob. Understand?”

  To my growing horror, Evie steps up to Alex until they’re a breath apart. Alex has accused me on numerous times of having scary eyes, but hers make me shiver.

  “The fuck did you just say to me?” she whispers with ice in her voice.

  “Did I stutter?” he fires back.

  All the de-escalation techniques I spent years learning and honing are nowhere to be found in my shocked mind. I’m a statue—frozen, silent, waiting.

  Mike appears with a worried expression. His gaze darts around to everyone. “I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s all take a step back and breathe for a minute.”

  Alex points at him. “Shut up, Mitchell. I’m not playing your armchair therapist games today.”

  Mike blinks as if someone slapped him.

  Rob joins the fray. Much like Mike, he assesses the situation before speaking. He narrows his eyes as he studies Alex a little closer than the rest.

  “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re not bored. You’re stoned out of your mind. Jesus fucking Christ, Alex. When did this start? What are you on? Pain pills?”

  “He injured his knee last summer,” I offer, finally finding my voice. I hate to throw Alex under the bus this way, but perhaps his friends can be of use to him in avoiding a true addiction. Plus, it might be a good enough distraction to prevent violence. “He’s been avoiding necessary surgery.”

  Mike’s gaze whips to me. “I thought you were the team psychologist?”

  “I am,” I affirm.

  “And you’re just letting him get addicted to Vicodin? What kind of shitty therapist are you?”

  Alex cracks his neck with a sickening snap. “Keep it coming, stooges. If you all wanna die today, then I’m hopped up enough to take all of you. I can barely feel my tongue, so I sure as shit won’t feel a thing when I punch your lights out.”

  I wrap my arms around Alex’s waist and try to pull him back. I can’t. There’s a beach ball between us that prevents me from having any real leverage.

  Rob rolls his eyes then plants a firm hand on Alex’s shoulder. A little shake causes him to sway on his feet like a tall oak tree under a mighty wind.

  “Right,” Rob drags out. “Very threatening. Try to stay upright until all your guests leave.” He scoops up his son who’s trying his best to crawl up his father’s leg, then turns his attention to the soberer people in the circle. “Someone wanna tell me why we’re all at each other’s throats this time?”

  Alex chuckles, but it’s humorless. “Maybe because the wife you still can’t control was threatening to rip my baby mama to pieces. Oh, and Mike and Tori are pregnant but hiding it from everyone for some reason.”

  He adds that last bit like it’s unimportant, but Mike clearly doesn’t think so. His face turns an unhealthy shade of red.

  Rob startles his son when he thrusts his fist into the air with a whooping sound. “Yes! I knew it! Didn’t I tell you, baby?”

  Evie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

  “At least we all know who my baby daddy is!” Tori yelps, then immediately slaps her hands over her mouth. Her eyes swim with guilt.

  Alex finally shakes free of my hold to turn around and weigh me down further with his disappointment. “You told them?”

  “Shit,” Rob mutters. “I hoped I wasn’t right about that.”

  The relief I felt earlier disappears in a puff of icy blue eyes. “I didn’t. Rob and Evie apparently figured it out on their own.”

  “How?” he whirls around again and stares them down.

  “Holy shit,” Mike whispers. “It’s not your baby?”

  A cacophony of everyone shouting over the other rings through the living room. I’m aware that the few guests left are watching like they’re being treated to a live-action soap opera.

  Gorge approaches and tries to pull Alex from the fray.

  Alex shoves him out of the circle. “Butt out. This is family business.”

  “Gorge…” I reach out for him.

  His expression looks so very hurt. He shakes his head, collects his lovely wife, then walks out the front door.

  I startle when slender arms wrap around me. “Family loves strong enough to forgive after the fight ends.” Alex’s mom chuckles. “Take it from me. Brothers fight. A lot.”

  My own mother pops her eyebrows at the scene then pins me with a glance that silently says I told you so.

  She herds our side of the family into the kitchen to avoid the distastefulness of the argument. She’s probably getting Dr. Abboud on the phone to tell him the marriage might still be possible.

  Tears blur my vision. The last thing I ever wanted—or expected—was to come between Alex and these people he loves so very much.

  “Boys!” Alex’s mom yells then dog-whistles when they don’t respond. She waits until they’re silent to admonish, “Stress is not good for the baby. Calm down. You need to learn to put your children and your children’s mothers first.”

  “That’s hilarious advice coming from a cheating whore,” Alex spits.

  Every mouth in the room hangs open. Except Mrs. Fossoway. To her credit, she seems genuinely shocked. She truly must never have known that Alex caught her in the act. She exchanges a glance with Alex’s father. A silent conversation passes between them until realization dawns like twin flames in their gazes.

  “Son… I think we need to talk,” his dad says.

  The friends exchange glances between themselves and worry directed at Alex.

  Rob speaks up first. “Do you need us, or do you want us to go?”

  “Stay.” Alex sighs. “I’m tired of all these fucking secrets. I don’t want my daughter being born into this shitshow.”

  “Let’s go out on the deck and get some fresh air,” Mr. Fossoway suggests. He glances
toward the stairwell.

  Jimmy’s been keeping Davey away from the noise and chaos by hiding out in one of the guest rooms upstairs. I only hope he didn’t hear Alex’s shout.

  Rob hands his son over to Tori. Everyone else follows Alex out to the patio.

  “Excuse me.” Mrs. Fossoway offers me a watery smile before dragging herself up the stairs.

  A kiss on my cheek startles me out of my shock.

  I blink.

  It’s Blake.

  His smile offers warmth and understanding. “Can I get you anything?”

  I honestly forgot he was even here.

  “No. No, thank you.”

  The French doors pop open again and Evie sticks her head in. “Alex is asking for you.”

  I nod. His request makes sense. If I’m the only person he’s ever told, then it’s reasonable he wants me there for emotional support.

  “Go ahead,” Blake insists. “If things get too crazy here, text me. I’ll come sweep you away any time of day or night.”

  I offer my friend a wry grin. “Do you think you can magically get me out of labor soon, too? I’m really not looking forward to it. I’d make a terrible masochist.”

  He laughs. “I can’t get you out of it, no. I do know a great anesthetist though. I’m sure she can work her epidural magic for you.”

  “Sounds promising. I’ll let you know.” I squeeze his hand quickly before turning toward the doors. “Thank you for being here.”

  I already feel calmer and ready to tackle the problems waiting outside for me after just a few moments of speaking with someone who has no vested interest except genuine friendship with me.

  He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses my skin tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

  He winks, then lets himself out the front door.

  I spare a passing glance at my family who’s huddled in the kitchen, watching me with way too much suspicion in their gazes.

  I sigh, then waddle out to the patio.

  Dad wipes his hand across his mouth after I’m done telling him what I saw. He turns his back to everyone and props himself against the railing, staring out over the glittering lake that’s full of alligators.