He cringed.
Mary put her hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. Being your wife has been great. You’re a celebrity in this town. I got a lot of respect being Mrs. Al Mahoney. As for the sex. Well, that’s hard to say. It was okay, but not what I was looking for.”
“Would it have been better for me to make love to you like a woman, with my tongue and a dildo?”
“Don’t be gross. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I like to touch softer stuff. No scruff.”
He nodded. “I get it.”
“It’s not personal.”
“It couldn’t be more personal.”
“I mean, I’d feel the same way about any man. It’s not you. In fact, if it hadn’t been you, I’d have left a lot sooner.”
“Really?” He was grasping at straws, but couldn’t stop himself. “How so?”
“Connie wanted me to leave you six months ago. But you and I had fun. Puzzles, bowling, big meals. Jokes. I like you, Al. There was a lot about being Mrs. Trunk Mahoney that was good.”
“You’re just shittin’ me.”
“Honestly. Otherwise, I would’ve left sooner.”
“When did you know this wasn’t going to work out?”
“Probably in the first six months.”
“Six months?”
“Yeah. But I hung in, hoping I was wrong.”
Once the emotion began to subside, the reality hit him. He’d been married to a lesbian and didn’t know it. The fact that she didn’t love men had nothing to do with him. It’s the way she was born. And if society and her parents didn’t give her a hard time about it, she never would have been with him.
“I loved us being a family. Being expected for dinner was great. Being missed if I was late. You gave me that, Mary. I’d never had it before.”
There were tears in his eyes. He raised his gaze to see her eyes had watered too.
“I know. Those stories about when you were a kid broke my heart. I made sure they were never repeated,” she whispered.
He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks. It helped me a lot.” He took her in from head to toe. She looked different. Her hair was shorter, and she’d gained weight. “Connie must be a good cook,” he said, not knowing what else to say, still digesting what she’d told him.
“That’s the other part of the story.” She shifted. Again, her gaze dropped to her hands.
“What? There’s more?”
“Again, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“Go ahead. What is it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
If she had hit him in the solar plexus with the power of a body builder, he couldn’t have been more stunned. She’d knocked the wind right out of him. He simply stared at her.
“It’s not yours. I was artificially inseminated. Connie wants to be a mom.”
“I thought you said you never wanted kids?”
“I didn’t. But now, well, it’s different. Connie’s too old, so that meant I’d have to be the one to carry.”
“How pregnant are you?”
“About four months.”
“Jesus Christ.” He hung his head. Pain reared up, filling his body. A few tears slipped down his cheeks. Regardless of what he felt for Mary, or she for him, the lying, the deceit, stung. She’d played him for the fool, and he was an asshole—swallowed everything, trusted and believed her. And all along, she’d been biding her time to start a new life, leaving him in the dust, alone, with nothing. He couldn’t catch his breath.
“That’s why I didn’t want to see you. I knew you’d notice. Pick up on my weight gain. I can’t lie to you.”
Al found his voice. “Can’t lie to me? You’ve been doing nothing but for years. I’m not giving you the house.” He kept his gaze lowered.
“That’s fine. You gave me the furniture. That’s all I wanted. I signed over the house. It’s in the papers my lawyer is sending over tomorrow.”
“After we’ve met, right? Just to make sure I didn’t beat you up?” He looked up, fire spitting from his eyes.
“That was his idea. I signed it before coming here. No matter how this meeting went, I wouldn’t ask for half the property. I laughed when he suggested you might get violent with me. I told him he was being a jerk, that you’re not like that.”
“What about our savings, investments?” He ignored her compliment, too wounded to allow any feeling for her to seep into his heart.
“I took only ten percent. Since you put most of the money in, I felt that was fair. If you don’t, we can talk about it. I make good money. Connie does too.”
“It’s fair.” Al had reached his limit of civility. The desire to call her out on her lying, to spit nasty names, rose up in him like a tidal wave. All of a sudden, he wanted the meeting to be over. He wanted her to be gone from his life, out of his sight.
“Al, I wish you well. I hope you find happiness.”
“Yeah. I bet. Fat chance.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Really? With my…uh…problem? I doubt it. You were the perfect solution.”
She touched his hand, but he yanked it away as if her fingers were hot coals. “You will. I know you. I’m sure there are dozens of women out there who would love to be Mrs. Al Mahoney.”
“I doubt it. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve traveled solo before. I can do it again.”
She nodded. “You can. You’re a strong man, Al.”
“That’s why they call me ‘Trunk’. Strong like the trunk of a tree.”
“It fits.” She smiled.
He rose up, driven by an urgent need to leave. He offered her his hand, which she took. She hugged him, but he pulled away.
“It’s been an incredible four years. Thank you for loving me,” she said.
“I’m not sure I ever really did,” he countered.
As if a giant bee had stung her, Mary recoiled. “You’re just saying that to hurt me.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry—” He wasn’t one bit. “But I think it’s the truth. Maybe I always knew you were gay. I mean, underneath, deep inside, somewhere. I don’t think I connected with you on a basic, gut level.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. I wish you well, Al. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too. Good luck with the baby and everything. How are your folks?”
“They’re so happy they’re going to be grandparents, I’m not sure it even penetrated about the divorce. They haven’t a clue about me being gay yet.” She gave a short laugh.
“They will as soon as they walk in on you making out with Connie.”
“Yes, they will.” She nodded.
He straightened his jacket, put out the remnants of their fire, and turned down the heat.
As much as he wanted to hate Mary, he couldn’t. She was only giving in to her real self. But the outcome was the same. Al would be minus ten percent of the money he’d put away and be alone again. Neither prospect thrilled him. On the drive back to The Savage Beast, he kept telling himself it could have been worse. But he never came up with how.
For four years, they had lived a lie. He’d been tricked by his wife—the person he trusted most in the world. Sadness engulfed him. Anger dissipated, replaced by a low level of depression and sorrow. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head, and pretend the world didn’t exist.
He pulled up to the curb a few doors down from the bar. He shivered at the thought of facing Carla. A shell of his former self, he didn’t want to explain what a fool he’d been, how he’d been duped, how he’d placed his trust in someone who had betrayed him. How could he tell her about the real Trunk? The vulnerable man who’d received a huge kick in the groin.
He longed for relief, for someone to make it all okay, but there wasn’t anyone. No way could he seek comfort in her arms. Not tonight. He wasn’t strong enough to come clean, to trust her with his feelings. And he was sure she didn’t want to know. This was ugly
in the extreme. Still, a shot of liquid painkiller looked mighty appealing.
He walked in and stopped at the bar. He ordered a double shot of Chivas Regal. Carla joined him with her glass of what appeared to be ginger ale. He knocked back half the drink then turned to her. Doodles came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of clean glasses.
“Well?” She sipped her soda, her gaze raised to his, expecting an explanation.
He opened his lips slightly, but words didn’t come out. They stuck in his throat as he grappled with the task of choosing the right ones. When he couldn’t think of anything to say, he remained silent.
Trunk downed the rest of his drink. Then, he kissed her on the cheek and trudged up the stairs to his room without uttering a word.
“Holy Hell. Must have been worse than he expected,” he heard Carla say to the cook.
“You could say that,” Trunk muttered to himself, moving down the hall. He shucked his clothes and slipped into bed then he passed out, lost in sleep.
Chapter Six
Carla awoke at nine. The door to Trunk’s room was open. He always left by eight thirty at the latest. He’d catch breakfast at the diner then head to the stadium to work out and practice. She was relieved not to have to face him.
She had retrieved his wedding band from his trash can, in case he changed his mind. She rolled it around her palm, tried it on, and marveled at how large it was as she slipped it off. Mrs. Trunk Mahoney. She tied her chenille robe then wandered down to his room. Standing on the threshold, she marveled at how tidy it was. There was nothing lying around. No dirty clothes. His toiletries were perched neatly on the top of the dresser. She strolled in and placed the ring next to his razor.
She picked up his brush and ran her thumb over the bristles. Then, she raised the small bottle of men’s cologne to her nose. The scent made her grin. It had the same label as the bigger one containing aftershave.
“I bet he uses this when he doesn’t shave,” she said to herself.
“How’d you guess?” came a deep voice.
Carla was so startled she almost dropped it. Color rushed to her cheeks as she hastily replaced the cologne. Caught snooping around his stuff. Idiot!
A deep chuckle. “Just checking to see if I was destroying your room?”
“The door was open.”
“Hey, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” she insisted, then remembered. “I just came to return this. Thought you might have a change of heart.” She picked up the band.
Trunk frowned. He took it from her and ran his finger around the inside before tossing it in the waste basket a second time. “Nope. That’s where it belongs. As soon as the paperwork is filed, I’ll be divorced. Single. Totally free.”
“And now?”
“I’m legally separated. I mean, I couldn’t get married again. Yet.”
“Oh, God. Would you want to jump back into that fire?”
“Not really.”
An affair then. Nothing more. A heaviness in her limbs belied her logic. Her heart didn’t agree. Hope waned as he looked her over briefly, but there was no heat in his stare. He was polite, almost businesslike. She missed the sexy once-over he usually gave her body, noting what she was wearing, nodding approval. Not today. Nothing. Her shoulders sagged a bit.
“Maybe someday, Carla. If I ever find the right woman. Like finding a four leaf clover—impossible.”
She ignored the pain that shot through her at his words. “What did you come back for?”
“My checkbook.” He opened the top drawer and took out the green plastic folder.
“I’m sorry about being in here.”
He raised his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s not a problem. Hey, this is your house. You’re entitled to go wherever the hell you want.”
“No practice today?”
“I have an appointment, then yeah. Practice my ass off. See you later.” And he was gone, in a flash. No physical contact. Barely eye contact. Carla wondered if she had dreamt that heart-stopping kiss. Was it real? The void left by his departure sent a chill through her.
The sound of the doorbell brought her back to reality. A delivery had arrived, and she needed to get to work. Doodles let the man in while she threw on jeans and a T-shirt before hitting the stairs. She welcomed the chance to lose herself in the bar, and not think about Trunk. She didn’t have time for a love life anyway. Hadn’t she told herself that a hundred times?
Yeah, and maybe someday she’d believe it.
* * * *
Trunk knocked on Dr. McMillan’s door. She answered.
“I’m really glad you could see me today.”
“Come on in.” She stepped back to let him pass.
He walked briskly into the room, right up to the window, and paced.
“Please, sit down.”
“Do I have to?”
“Of course not. It’s just easier to make eye contact if you’re here,” she said, patting the sofa.
He nodded and joined her. His mouth was dry, his palms a bit damp.
“What’s happened?” she asked, her brows knit, her eyes on him.
“I met with Mary. I know why she’s leaving me.”
Al related the story.
McMillian nodded. “How does that make you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“Why?”
“Not what you’re thinking. If she’s a lesbian, she was born like that. I didn’t make her one. Besides, she said she’s always liked women, but tried to deny it. But because she lied to me…lived a lie for four years. Nothing about our life was real. I don’t know what to think.”
Tears stung so sharply, he couldn’t blink them back. Fuck! I don’t cry unless I’m injured. But they refused to be controlled. He buried his face in his hands as the sobs came.
She touched his shoulder and nudged a box of tissues closer.
“I thought I had it. Finally. I had the family I’d never had. It was there. Just one person, that’s all I needed. Mary promised. And it was good, for a while. She’d be there waiting for me when I got back from a road trip. We’d have sex, and she’d make a big dinner. It was good, but it wasn’t. It was just a lie. She was faking the whole time. And now, it’s gone. But I never had it, anyway.”
The doctor sat quietly, letting him finish. When he stopped to take a breath and wipe his face, she turned a sympathetic gaze on him. “You sound confused.”
He gave a mirthless laugh. “You might say that.” He blew his nose and took a deep breath. “I have to face it, doc. I’m never gonna have it. Never gonna have a family. It’s not gonna happen, and I might as well give up. I’m gonna be single forever.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s true. No other woman’s gonna want to marry me.”
“Why, Al! You’re an attractive man, a nice person, and you make a good income. Who wouldn’t be interested in you?”
“A woman who wants kids, that’s who.”
His statement hovered in the air like a dark, dense cloud.
“What?”
“I’m shooting blanks. I’m infertile. Mary and I tried like hell to get pregnant. We did everything. The tests on her came back okay, but not mine. I failed. I flunked. She admitted she’d never wanted kids, then. So, she was relieved. She made it easy for me.”
“And now?”
“Now, she’s pregnant, so even that shit was a lie.” A new round of emotion gripped his throat. Tears returned.
“You don’t think you can find a woman who would be willing to adopt?”
“I doubt it. No one wants a guy who can’t produce kids.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
He looked up at her. “Do you know that? For sure? Got someone in mind?”
“Well, no, but—”
“But nothing. That’s crap. Don’t throw it at me. Don’t give me hope when there is none.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way.”
“It’s not a ques
tion of how I see it. It’s the truth.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“I’d made my piece with not having kids. I doubt I’d be a good father anyway. My dad died when I was thirteen. I have no idea what a good one looks like. Maybe I could be like Coach Bass. I’d dealt with it. Mary and I. Together. So, I’m gonna do that Santa thing at the Kings’ Christmas party, and I’m joining Griff’s summer football camp staff. But that’s it.
“Maybe you’ll find someone who already has kids.”
“Be a stepfather? Don’t think so. I’m not suited. I’m not patient. It’s one thing for a couple of hours, but full time? I doubt I can do it.”
“You never know until you try.”
“I should have known when I was a kid, family wasn’t going to happen for me.”
“Oh, Al. That’s such a sad thought. Please don’t say that. Don’t give up. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two.”
“There’s plenty of time for you to find the right woman and have your own family.”
He shrugged.
“Let’s get back to Mary.”
“What’s there to say? She’s a liar and a fraud. She led me down the path then dumped me when I wasn’t convenient anymore.”
“There’s one thing I don’t hear you saying.”
“What’s that?”
“How much you love her, or are going to miss her.”
A dry laugh escaped his throat. “Noticed that, did you?”
She nodded.
“Yeah. I figured it out a while ago. I had more chemistry with some of the chicks at the strip clubs than I did with her.”
“Maybe you felt her sexual ambivalence all along.”
“Maybe I did. I used to go for a lap dance or two. But I never fucked ’em. Never was unfaithful.” He snorted. “And look where it got me. She was fuckin’ Connie for a year, while I was the stupid, good little boy.”
“Well, strip clubs and lap dances don’t actually qualify as great behavior.”
“Really? Even if I didn’t do anything? I mean, I never even got a blow job.”
“Still. It’s kind of border-line in the faithful department.”
“Oh? Good. I don’t feel like such an asshole, then.” He smiled.
Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line Page 7
