by Hart, Romi
“I would,” Kylie giggled.
Reesa gave her a scathing look and hissed, “Maybe you should go dunk Jordan instead and really get your eyes full.”
“Not a half bad idea.” Kylie wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and disappeared, leaving her alone with Marc.
The last three weeks had been a whirlwind, and she couldn’t believe how her life had changed in such a short time. With Marc around, she felt lighter, happier, and stronger, like for once, she was in control of every aspect of her world. Sure, she had a hold on her career, but her personal life had always seemed just a little beyond her reach. But that changed as she found herself growing closer to him, almost on a daily basis.
They were both busy people, so they didn’t get to see each other all the time, but even when he traveled, they talked on the phone or video chat at night, sometimes late into the night, almost falling asleep still chattering away. She felt like a teenager sometimes, but she welcomed the euphoria and the newness of things.
She’d even managed to ignore the feeling of dread and wondering when it was all going to come crashing down around her. Reesa was nothing if not a realist, and she knew that, at some point, Marc would pull away from her, destined for a different path. Still, she focused on the present and the joy she could find in the day to day things, just as Kylie always told her.
“Well, now you’ve gone and made me cold,” she told him, pouting out her bottom lip. “I’m not going to enjoy the rest of the carnival.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” he said, combing his fingers through her hair. With a wink and a glint in his beautiful eyes, he said, “I thought ahead. I’ve got an extra set of clothes in here for you.” He patted the duffel bag. “Care to join me in the bathroom while I change?” This time, he was the one waggling his brows.
Reesa had to laugh, even though she was flushing at the insinuation. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll take a rain check for later tonight. I’d be more than happy to say thank you and take those clothes to a separate bathroom so I can change.”
He sighed, feigning deep disappointment. “Fine.” He set the bag on one of the folding tables where tickets were sold for chances to dunk a soccer star and pulled out a Bolton’s shopping bag. Raising an eyebrow in question, he shrugged. “Maybe I went shopping because I didn’t get a chance to come over and pack anything for you.”
With a sigh of her own, Reesa felt her heart skip a beat at his thoughtfulness. He was kind and giving, and he had good taste, choosing things that were very much her style. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him, something she rarely did in public. The media hadn’t caught wind of their blossoming relationship yet, and they were trying to maintain a sense of privacy as long as they could. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek with an adoring smile. “I’ll walk you over to the restrooms and meet you back out in front in fifteen minutes.”
Inside, she opened the package and admired the soft black sweater and insulated leggings he’d given her, knowing instantly they would fit perfectly. She smiled and eagerly started to strip off her now wet clothes. “Reesa?” Kylie’s voice echoed in the empty space.
“In here,” she said, waving her hand above the stall door.
“Oh, my god! You two are so adorable together! Please tell me you’re happy.” Her friend nearly squeaked with her delight.
It warmed Reesa’s heart and made her really assess things. “I am happy,” she said decisively. “You know, I’m still a little in shock about the whole thing, but I’m taking your advice and just rolling with it.”
“I’m proud of you for that. And in case you didn’t notice, Marcus Winters simply adores you.”
As she pulled on the sweater and shivered at how comfortably it fit, Reesa frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, please! It’s obvious, Reesa. He can’t keep his eyes off you, no matter what. And he’s got this glow about him every time you’re nearby that sort of dulls when you’re out of sight. Plus, Jordan tells me he can’t stop talking about you.”
“Ha! How much time have you spent talking to Jordan?” Not only was this a juicy detail; it also gave her a reason to change the subject.
Meekly, Kylie answered, “We just spent a few minutes talking while we were watching Marcus get tormented and you laughing at him. But he’s a really nice guy. But don’t change the subject!” Kylie exploded. “So, should I assume you and Marcus are, like, a thing now? is it official?”
They hadn’t really discussed it, but Reesa felt like things had moved in that direction. Still, she wouldn’t speak out of turn, so she chose her words carefully as she finished settling the new clothes on her body and exited the stall. “I’m obviously not seeing anyone else. I’m not sure if Marc is or not, but it seems like he’s fairly committed. We haven’t talked about exclusivity or anything, though. I mean, when it comes down to it, what do we really have in common? How can I expect it to last?” She tried to keep her tone light, ignoring the prodding emotions that threatened to surface, all her doubts trying to burst forth.
“You are such a pessimist!” Kylie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who likes you for who you are? If you try to add common ground to that, you’re screwed. Three and a half billion men in this world, and there’s maybe three or four of them that meet all the standard requirements. You and Marcus seem to come pretty close to it, though. You at least have a fighting chance.”
Reesa snorted and patted her friend on the shoulder. “If I’m a pessimist, you’re a dreamer, Kylie. That’s why we get along so well. We balance each other.” She pursed her lips and considered herself in the mirror. “Maybe we have something in common. He’s got really good fashion sense,” she muttered.
“See? Open your eyes, and you’re surrounded by a world of possibility.” She wrinkled her nose. “And now, I’m going to send you back out to that gorgeous hunk of man while I relieve myself in here. Otherwise, I can’t watch anyone else get dropped into cold water!”
Reesa cackled as she left the bathroom and found Marc leaning against the wall of the building, his hands in his pockets and his head bowed. He looked for all the world like some model in a high fashion ad, and as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, the smile that crossed his lips drove home the impression, heating things low in her stomach.
He pushed away and stalked toward her, making her blood pump faster and hotter through her veins. “Marc, I told you we should save this for when we got home,” she cautioned as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him.
He grunted at her. “I know, but you look so luscious in that outfit I can’t help myself. Besides, we’re alone here. And I just want to hold you for a minute. Can’t a man desire his woman?”
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Since when am I yours?”
He frowned at her, and she knew he read as much into her words as she’d tried to hold back in her discussion moments ago with Kylie. “Wait, are you still worried that I’m not one hundred percent committed to this?” She didn’t respond, turning her face away from him to hide the truth in her eyes. But he captured her chin in his hand, gently turning her back to him. “Reesa, I can’t believe you’re still questioning this. I think about you every waking moment, and I spend as much time with you, physically or virtually, as I can. I have no interest in anyone else. I wasn’t seeing anyone else before I met you, and I certainly haven’t developed interest in anyone else since. So, unless you’re still playing the field…”
She gaped at Marc, offended. “You of all people should know better than that! I barely agreed to go on a date with you. How could you possibly think—“
He silenced her with his lips, coming down in a brutal assault of a kiss infused with all the passion of his words. She let it ease her concern, build her strength, and reaffirm her belief that, maybe, there could be a future for them. When he pulled back, he winked at her, still embr
acing her while she tried to catch her breath. “I know that, Reesa. But it sounds just as ridiculous to me when you suggest I’d be messing around with other women. I only have eyes for you.”
Something warm and snug wrapped around her heart, and she gazed up at Marc with a newfound appreciation for him. His sincerity and brutal honesty went a long way in building her faith in men again. And she especially felt comforted in the knowledge that he wanted them to be exclusive.
She started to tell him as much, but something flashed in the corner of her eye. She saw Marc squint, too, and they turned in unison to find the camera fixed on them. Reesa gaped, and Marc released her abruptly, storming toward the paparazzi gathered just around the corner of the bathroom. Several of them took off, probably tabloid reporters who didn’t need a quote from the famous footballer to embellish an outrageous story. But two of them started shouting questions, one on top of the other, and Reesa was so startled she couldn’t make out what either said.
“How long has this affair been going on?”
“What’s her name?”
“Where did you meet?”
As the words finally came clear, the question they hurled battered Reesa’s ears. She stared, wide-eyed, as Marc stopped dead in front of them and crossed his arms over his chest. He turned and smiled at her, motioning her toward him. Mechanically, she walked over and let him take her hand. In a voice that sounded calm outwardly but that she knew didn’t match the turmoil inside as his fingers clutched hers a little too tight, he told them, “I’ll make one statement on the record, and then you can leave.”
Like hungry wolves, they quieted, holding out microphones, tablets, and cell phones to record his statement. He cleared his throat and said, “Theresa Brighton and I have been seeing each other for a few weeks, and trust me when I say I had to work hard to get her attention. We’re still learning about each other, but I hope she’s as happy so far as I am.” With those words, he turned away, sliding his arm around her waist and guiding her back toward the carnival.
“What happens now?” she asked quietly, her heart thudding for an entirely different reason.
He sighed. “Now, they’re going to take your name and find out everything they can about who you are and what you do. Then, they’re going to try to find some secret affair I’m having with some woman who doesn’t exist to create some drama they can publish.” He stopped and took both her hands in his, capturing her gaze. “I swear to you, no matter what they say, there is nothing going on with anyone else. Like I said, I only want you, Reesa. I didn’t lie when I told them I was happy. And I hope you are, too, because this is going to be tough going for a while.”
She nodded, swallowing her nerves. “I’m happy. I’m still not sure how we got here,” she laughed nervously, “but I’m glad. And I can be strong through all this, okay?”
“I know. That’s part of what I love about you.” He kissed her gently. “Now, let’s go have some fun. I want to put Jordan down myself, and even I can throw a pretty accurate baseball a few feet.”
She tried to smile, but the words he’d just used repeated over and over in her head. That’s part of what I love about you. He'd used the word ‘love'. It made her heart soar, but at the same time, it frightened her. She couldn't let things move too fast, and she certainly didn't want Marc to start using words like that lightly. Of course, he hadn't said he loved her, only things about her. But the line between the two was very fine and hard to see.
In fact, she was having trouble defining the difference herself. There were plenty of things she was learning to love about Marc, and she worried she was getting in too deep, those sentiments blurring into one overwhelming emotion she recognized and denied.
Instead of focusing on that, she leaned against Marc as they walked, drawing strength from his confidence and reminding herself that, at least for now, they had to stand together to get through the hardship of what they would face. Reesa could worry about everything else another day.
Chapter 7
Somehow, Reesa knew she shouldn't have turned on the news. A sense of dread made her queasy as she saw the image in the corner of the screen, the headshot she used in her advertising. But there was no reason for the picture to smile out at the world as the anchor launched into her story.
She couldn’t turn it off, knowing it would only make her look worse as Marc sat forward, listening with a furrowed brow. Hearing about their relationship everywhere they turned had grated on Reesa’s nerves, but she could deal with that. She’d even managed to get through the harassment of paparazzi at every turn and dodge several cameras the last few days. But sordid details of her past being aired like so much laundry in front of the world…
She hadn’t signed up for this, and she hadn’t really wanted anyone to know about it, least of all Marc. It was a part of her life she didn’t like to recall, and the reminder hung over her head as thick and gloomy as the impending accusations Marc would surely throw at her.
“Mrs. Brighton seems to have more to hide than People Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive this year,” the reporter began. “While Marcus Winters has entered into a whirlwind relationship, the first on record since his stardom began nearly ten years ago, and managed to hide it for weeks, Theresa Brighton has buried her darkest secrets for years.”
She cast a sidelong glance at Marc, wincing at his deep concentration and the concern building in his expression. Hanging her head in her hands, she waited for the ball to drop. “It appears that, at a young age, Brighton married and found herself in a failing relationship that ended in turmoil. Her former husband, Ethan Riley, filed charges against her for domestic violence, entering the hospital with a shattered cheekbone and a broken jaw. At the same time, Miss Brighton filed her own charges against her ex-husband, claiming months of physical and mental abuse.
“Based on her testimony and an examination by a physician who refused to speak with us, her assault on Riley was deemed self-defense, while prosecutors managed to put Riley away for fifteen years. The ruling was controversial, considering the extent of the damage done to Riley, and he still claims she was the aggressor in the relationship.”
As if the story wasn’t bad enough, Ethan’s face filled the screen, his orange jumpsuit glaring at her like a giant accusation. “I would never hurt Theresa,” he told the interviewer, putting on a pitiful air. “I loved her. I still love her, even after all this. But she had a violent streak in her, and I suffered the consequences.” He pointed to the scar on his cheek, which sat on top of a very small dent where the bone hadn’t quite healed properly.
The anchor was back on the screen. “Ethan Riley has had some difficulty during his incarceration, suffering at the hands of those who feel abusers don’t have the same rights as other inmates. Hopefully, when Riley goes up for parole in six months, he’ll have a chance to reclaim his life. There is a mutual restraining and no contact order between Riley and Miss Brighton. According to Riley, he’s not concerned that, upon his return to society, his ex-wife will attempt to contact or hurt him in any way. The question is, was she really to blame for the violence in the marriage? And is Marcus Winters aware of her past? Could he be facing the same potential devastation as Ethan Riley? Only time will tell.”
Angry and mortified beyond words, Reesa pushed up off the couch and stormed into the kitchen, needing space before the ensuing finger pointing and the overwhelming guilt she was going to feel when she had to face the confrontation with Marc.
“Reesa, wait,” he called after her, but she ignored him, trying to catch her breath as panic clutched at her chest and compressed her lungs, not allowing her to bring in enough oxygen. Her head ached, and she felt her world spinning out of control. He was behind her by the time she stopped at the window, reaching to open it and let in the cold wind blowing outside.
When he placed his hands on her arms, she shrugged him off, not turning to look at him. “Don’t do that, Reesa. Talk to me.”
She shook her head and told him in a strained, gra
velly voice, “There’s nothing to say, Marc. I’m sorry. It was good while it lasted, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
There was nothing for several heartbeats, and she wondered if he’d left, her blood pounding so hard in her ears she hadn’t heard his footsteps or the door closing behind him. But then his fingers landed lightly on her shoulders, and she could feel his heat radiating into her back as he stepped closer. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” His voice was calm and soothing rather than filled with betrayal and hurt. “I know something’s twisted here, so tell me what it is.”
She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t risk meeting his gaze. If Marc’s eyes showed any signs of believing the story or of feeling like she’d stabbed him in the back by not telling him about all this, she wouldn’t make it through her story. “I’m not guilty,” she said, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
“I never thought you were. Tell me what really happened.” He gently pulled her against him, infusing her with his comfort and strength.
Taking a deep breath, she blew it out and focused on taking herself out of the equation, telling the tale as if she was just a distant observer. “I was too young to get married, but Ethan was a charmer, and he was way out of my league. I met him freshman year in college and married him early in my junior year. He was one of the most celebrated players on the lacrosse team that year, and I went to all the games and cheered him on. I was loyal to a fault. He was so sweet, so caring and considerate, and I worshiped him.
“But after we married, the mask fell off. He started calling me names, making me feel worthless, and when I begged him to stop, he got physical. It was mostly bruises, in places others wouldn’t see, and a few scrapes and knots here and there, but he actually fractured two ribs once and caused me a severely sprained ankle another time that tore several tendons.”
