Personal Foul (Moving the Chains Book 6)

by Kata Čuić

  “I do love him.”

  My heart stops.

  “The same way I love Mike.” She chuckles. The sound is like a defibrillator to my chest. “I’ve known Alex since freshman year of high school, and I never could have predicted how interwoven our lives would become. I never imagined being friends with him, let alone asking him to be co-Godfather to my only child. I love him the way a woman loves a brother. The way one would love someone who was their rock through some of their darkest days. I don’t know how to explain it adequately. Rob saved me from a horrifically violent attack that nearly ended my life—not Mike or Alex. But if it wasn’t for all of them, I’m not sure I’d be rocking my baby while talking on the phone to you right now. When I say I owe them my life, I mean I owe them all the pieces of my life that were shattered like glass in a single moment. They glued me back together, piece by tiny piece. Each in their own ways. Rob is—and always will be—the love of my life, but Mike and Alex played their parts to shape me into the woman I am today. I’ll always love them, too.”

  I gulp in a deep lungful of air.

  Guilt lessens my relief.

  “Did you know?” I rasp. “That he loved you?”

  That he used you.

  Evie hums.

  The sound travels across the country, through our phone speakers, and tangles around my neck.

  “I know he thought he did in a way that I couldn’t return,” she finally admits. “I was worried about him for so long. I knew he was more than what he pretended to be. We had that in common for too many years. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—question how he said he felt. I know too well what that feels like. Something was always off though. He was always there for me, but he never reciprocated. He would let me cry on his shoulder and be the most genuine version of myself around him, but he never gave me the same thing. He always wore his masks around me. He let me believe he was having group orgies in college instead of telling me what he was really up to. He didn’t see anything wrong with that, so I always knew it wasn’t the kind of love I share with Rob. Alex wasn’t ready for give and take yet. I think as much as he was a safe place for me, I was also safe for him. He tested the waters with me, I guess. I was practice for the woman he didn’t know how to love to the fullest extent yet.”

  A sob catches in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” There’s a smile in her voice that’s clear even from California. “If there’s something I’ve learned the hard way, it’s that the things we think are awful aren’t. Not always. Those same things can be stepping stones to get us to where we want to be. The rough edges that scrape and scratch only break us down if we let them. Perspective is everything. Sometimes, we all need a little polishing to reach our brightest shine.”

  “Have you ever considered a career in psychology?” I resume my slow pace down the hallway with a renewed sense of purpose. I might have advanced degrees in therapeutic interventions, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also need someone to show me the right path every once in a while.

  “And give up the MBA I’ve earned while being pregnant? No way.”

  She gives me hope that I can do it all, too—motherhood, career…partner to a professional athlete. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask for advice about how to balance it all, but the sight of my car in the parking lot stops me cold.

  I put a sizeable down payment on it because the SUV had the highest rear-seat crash safety ratings. I wanted my precious cargo to be as safe as possible. The word spray painted in red bleeds across the once pristine white hood of an expensive vehicle I never would have bought for myself.

  WHORE

  I glance around the parking lot, but it’s empty.

  “Evie,” I whisper, a new stranglehold made of fear tightening my throat. “Have fans ever harassed you? Ones who are perhaps jealous of your marriage?”

  “Online, mostly,” she admits. “It would honestly be better for my mental health if I didn’t read all the forums, but I can’t stand not knowing. Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Someone…” I pant for air I suddenly can’t inhale. “…spray painted my car in the parking lot.”

  “What?” she screeches, but the sound barely registers through the pounding of my pulse in my ears. “Where are you?”

  “At the Sharks facility.” Speaking feels like trudging through quicksand. “I had to finish filing all my paperwork.” I take a deep breath then another. “I had to leave notes for the therapist who’s filling in for me while I’m on maternity leave.”

  “Don’t go outside alone,” she rushes. There’s noise in the background, but it’s muted. “Where’s Alex?”

  Alex didn’t want me to come to the office today. Alex begged me to wait until after his ortho appointment, so he could drive me. Alex will be very angry when he discovers I left the house shortly after he did.

  I should have listened to Alex.

  “He’s at an appointment with a surgeon to make plans for repairing the damage in his knee,” I whisper.

  Finally, finally, the fog clears, and I inhale a deep, cleansing breath.

  Do major life moments ever happen to me under anything but bad timing?

  “I think I’m in labor.”

  “It could be more Braxton-Hicks,” she says, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince both of us. “Go back to your office and try to relax. Call Alex and wait for him to come pick you up. Whatever you do, do not go outside alone.”

  That seems like very sound advice. I have no desire to be accosted by a group of jealous jersey chasers now or ever. I keep talking to distract myself from the valid fear that more pain will grip me. It will. I know this. The pain is going to get far worse before it gets better. “Should we hire security? I don’t want to lose my independence, but I can’t take chances with a newborn either. How did they know which car is mine? Who did this? Alex and I have never even been photographed in public together except one time when we went to dinner with my parents.”

  “Slow down,” Evie advises. “Just breathe. We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll do some digging online. In the meantime, get to your office and call Alex.”

  She hangs up. Presumably, to push me to follow her instructions.

  My office has never felt so far away. I cling to the wall as another wave of pain swells. Even after it abates, my hands are shaking so badly that it takes me three tries to press Alex’s contact on my phone. My call goes straight to voicemail.

  The second I collapse into my desk chair, I text him.

  All I can do now is wait.

  If only my baby girl knew about schedules. She does not.

  Another contraction clamps around my stomach. I grip the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white. All the Lamaze classes and breathing techniques I spent weeks learning disappear in a haze of pain and fear. What am I supposed to do now?

  “Amira? Did you see your c—” Blake freezes in my doorway, gaping at me.

  “Yes,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “I saw it.”

  “Oh, shit.” His eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Are you in labor?”

  I nod and expel a long push of breath as the pain ebbs away.

  “What the hell are you doing sitting at your desk then? Why aren’t you on your way to the hospital?”

  It’s only been an hour of contractions every five minutes apart, and I’m already exhausted. I’ll never make it through full labor. I force myself to do another round of deep breathing before answering, “I’m waiting for Alex. I can’t drive my car obviously. I’m too afraid to leave the building by myself.”

  He stalks toward me and heaves me out of my chair like I’m a ragdoll instead of a beached whale. “I’ll drive you to the damn hospital. What the fuck are you waiting on Alex for?”

  I don’t disagree that it’s time to go to the hospital. The obstetrician told us to go when I reached the five-minute marker. “He had a doctor’s appointment today, and his phone is off. I left him a few texts and a voice message, but he h
asn’t gotten them yet. He doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “Fucking hell,” Blake mutters as he helps me back out into the hall. “I’m so glad you’re not marrying that jackass.”

  Neither Alex nor I have ever broached the topic of marriage. He knows better than anyone what that means to me. While he was the first to announce the baby news to our coworkers, that never included talk of an engagement or a wedding.

  “Who said anything about marriage?” I clamp down around Blake’s arm as another contraction overtakes me.

  “This is my throwing arm, Dr. D.” He uncurls my fingers from his skin with a wince.

  I twist my hands around the hem of my shirt instead. It’s not nearly as helpful.

  Blake frowns until I nod for us to move forward again.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about it,” he says on a sigh.

  “My life is a series of poorly timed events,” I insist. “Distractions are a good labor coping technique anyway. So, distract away.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think this is the kind of distraction you want.”

  I’m sure I’m getting really annoyed and not from labor pains. My internal filter hangs on by a thread. “If you’re truly my friend, then you’ll say whatever it is you need to say.”

  “All right,” he caves as he holds the door open for me to waddle through it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you though. And don’t rip my arm off. I’m only the messenger here.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the sight of the scarlet branding on my car. Also, because the second I step into the blazing sun of late spring in Florida, another contraction nearly brings me to my knees.

  “Are we even going to make it to the hospital?” Blake mutters as he basically holds me up.

  “I hope so,” I pant. “All the literature suggests first-time births take the longest. The contractions started an hour ago. Plenty of time.”

  Blake opens the passenger door of his truck and offers his hand for support as I climb inside. Thank goodness he doesn’t have a tiny sports car like Alex. I’m not sure I could fold myself into that small front seat just now.

  After he buckles himself into the driver’s seat, he turns to me. “If I didn’t just get damn good proof of what a loser Fossoway is, I wouldn’t even be telling you this now. It’s none of my business. As your friend though, I don’t want to see you make a mistake that you can’t undo. I don’t want your baby to suffer.”

  This is turning out to be a good distraction. In spite of another wave of pain stealing the air from my lungs, I’m riveted—hanging on Blake’s every word. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my baby.

  Blake blows out a breath as he maneuvers his truck out of the parking lot. “Alex has been playing you this whole time, Amira. Had I known the baby wasn’t his all along, I would have warned you sooner.”

  The pain intensifies.

  “He got the entire team in on a bet at the beginning of the season when you showed up. He bragged about how he’d bagged you so many times in college that it would be easy to get you to fall into bed with him again. Since he thought that would be too easy, the bet was actually that he’d put a ring on it by the end of the season. For the record, almost the entire team—including me—bet against him. We all knew you were too smart to fall for a player like him.”

  I can’t breathe.

  “When we all found out you were pregnant, and Alex claimed the baby, none of us felt it was our place to rock the boat. Believe me, if any of us had known how dirty Alex was willing to play to win, we would have told you sooner. Hell, even Gorge has been struggling with whether to tell you the truth.”

  My eyes sting with tears.

  I was so close. So close to giving in and handing Alex my heart on a silver platter. Evie was right. Sometimes the worst things aren’t the worst at all. If someone hadn’t spray painted my car, I might never have discovered the truth.

  I’d almost rather go back to being just another damsel in distress.

  This pain is so much worse.

  “I have millions of dollars. You never have to work a day in your life again if you don’t want to. Season tickets? All yours. Whatever you want, I will give you. Just let me in that room.”

  The nurse sitting at the desk doesn’t even bother to glare at me. She also doesn’t accept my bribery. “If Mom says you’re not allowed in the room, then you’re not getting in that room. Take a seat or leave. Up to you.”

  “I can’t leave! My daughter’s being born!”

  She finally raises her gaze—and her eyebrows—to me. “It’s not really your daughter, now, is it, Mr. Fossoway?”

  I thought my blood ran cold when I first read Amira’s texts. I was wildly, stupidly wrong. “What do you mean, that’s not my daughter?”

  A loud, panting noise coupled with a baby’s cry startles me.

  I turn around to find Evie juggling Robbie, a diaper bag, a laptop case, and a fake smile that she aims at the nurse. “Would you excuse us for just a moment? Thank you so much.”

  This day has been spinning out of control already, so I don’t put up a fight as Evie drags me away to the waiting room.

  “It’s all over the internet,” she gushes as she unloads her haul on the nearest Pepto-pink colored couch. “Someone leaked the story to the tabloids. It’s no wonder Amira’s car got spray painted.”

  I blink at her. She might as well be speaking Greek. Or Aramaic. “What? What? What? What happened to Amira’s car? What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Rob? Why won’t she let me in the delivery room?”

  “Someone spray painted her car in the Sharks parking lot. I got here as soon as I could, but it’s a six-hour flight with advance planning. Rob’s at a charity golf event in Palm Springs for a few days, but I have no idea why you’re banned from the delivery room.” Evie swings Robbie to her other hip then pops a pacifier into his mouth.

  That answers some of my questions, but I need a hell of a lot more to go on before I lose my shit. “Explain.”

  She bounces Robbie up and down and starts pacing in a way that hurts my knee just to watch. “I was on the phone with Amira this morning. She was at the Sharks complex to finish up paperwork before going on maternity leave. She said someone spray painted her car in the parking lot, then she started having contractions. I told her to go back to her office, call you, and wait for you to pick her up. When we ended the call, I got online to see what I could find out. I found out a lot.”

  I can’t breathe.

  I fucking told Amira to wait a few hours until I could drive her. She’s not even supposed to be behind the wheel this close to her due date. The OB warned her not to even think about driving herself to the hospital once labor started. It’s like he knows how fucking stubborn the woman is, too.

  “What did you find out?” I wheeze.

  Evie frowns. “Someone went online in multiple fan forums and said the baby isn’t yours. That Amira’s a gold-digger who trapped you into claiming paternity. The posts were made within several minutes of each other, but they all had different user names.”

  “This is all your fucking fault.” If it wasn’t for Robbie, I’d scream at his mother. “If you hadn’t cornered Amira at the baby shower, no one would have any reason to think like that.”

  Evie’s eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t deny her guilt. “It wasn’t me, Alex. I swear.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know you wouldn’t post that shit online. You prefer getting your hands dirty in person.”

  “I did.” She nods like a bobblehead. “I did get my hands dirty. I had our security guy help me trace the IP addresses from the anonymous posters and found out who was behind the smear campaign. All the posts came from the same person.”

  If she’s trying to buy her way back into my good graces, I’m absolutely open to bribery. Unlike the charge nurse. “Who did it?”

  Evie seals her lips shut as her eyes widen. When she twists to hold Robbie behind her, I understand immediately that
she’s shielding her son from a threat.

  I block them both with my body and turn to face it head-on.

  Blake fucking Mayview grins at me, wiping his damp hands with a paper towel. “Amira asked me to come out here and tell you to leave. She’ll be bringing the baby to my house.”

  “The fuck she will.” I lunge at him, but a surprisingly strong grasp holds me back.

  “If you want to meet your daughter, then going to jail today is not the best way to accomplish that. I already have all the evidence we need for a lawsuit. Play smart, Fossoway, not stupid,” Evie whispers behind me.

  Fuck. I should’ve known it was him.

  The rat bastard will do anything to win.

  Evie’s right. I have to play smart. If he’s the only connection I have to Amira right now, then I’ll pump him for all the info he’s worth.

  “What’s her name?”

  He blinks at me. Like an idiot. “You know Amira’s name. Even you’re not that stupid.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “The baby. What did Amira name her?”

  “Oh. She’s not here yet. They kicked me out, so Amira could get an epidural.” He shudders. “You should’ve seen the size of that needle. Do you even know where they stick it? In her spinal cord! I’ve had steroid shots before, but nothing like that. I thought I was gonna pass out.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t missed it. Yet.

  “You, um, missed a spot,” Evie offers from behind me, gesturing toward Mayview’s shirt.

  He glances down at a spatter of something pink and sticky looking, then immediately pales. “What the fuck…?”

  “That’s nothing,” Evie assures him quickly. “It gets way worse. Blood, goo, urine. I actually shit on the delivery table. My husband swears he still can’t get the smell out of his nose, and our son’s four months old.”

  B-lake wavers on his feet.