by Jillian Dodd
I step behind her, wrap an arm around her waist, and set the flowers and the champagne on the counter. “You look beautiful,” I tell her, knowing she loves hearing it. “How was your day at the spa?”
“It was fine,” she says, turning around to face me. “Are the kids next door?”
“Before we talk about that,” I say, flashing my endorsement-winning smile, “I want to give you this. I know we didn’t do much on our actual anniversary, but there was a reason for that.” I pull the box from my pocket and place it in her hand.
“Oh, Danny!” she exclaims. “You shouldn’t have!”
“Here, let me,” I suggest, opening the box and exposing the dazzling diamonds. “Danny Diamond’s wife of fifteen years deserves some spectacular diamonds, don’t you think?”
The sparkling stones reflect in Lori’s eyes and give me hope that this week will be perfect. Lori’s been a little distant lately. Not that it’s uncommon. She goes through phases, I guess you’d say. Sometimes, our sex life is amazing. Other times, it’s practically nonexistent. It all depends on her moods and how she’s feeling about herself. About three years ago, after she got her boob job and tummy tuck, she was hot for me all the time. As we both approach our fortieth birthdays, she pretty much has her plastic surgeon on speed dial. All the Botox, nips, and tucks are expensive, but it’s worth it. You know what they say; happy wife, happy life. In my case, that’s very true. When Lori’s happy, she keeps me happy in bed. And that makes me happy. This vacation is exactly what we need to reconnect and get back on track.
“Danny, these are gorgeous!” She slips off the large diamond studs I got her a few years ago and replaces them with the new chandelier earrings. “They must have cost a fortune!”
“I can afford it,” I say.
“We can afford it, you mean,” she snaps back.
“Of course that’s what I meant. Fifteen years is a big deal. You’re a big deal. You deserve them.”
I pop the bottle of champagne and pour us each a glass while she pulls a mirror from her purse to check out the earrings. I consider drinking straight from the bottle like we used to when we were first married, wondering if she’d like it. But I know I should behave. Lori prefers sophistication and propriety these days. I hand her a flute and graciously raise mine in a toast.
“Here’s to you and to fifteen more years of happiness.”
She doesn’t say anything in response. I think she’s too overwhelmed by the earrings to speak.
“I have more surprises. Wait here.”
“Danny—” she starts to say, but I cut her off. I’m excited to tell her the rest.
I run around the corner and pull our already packed suitcases out to the kitchen.
“What’s going on?”
“You and I are going to Fiji. And we’re leaving, well, now. I have everything planned. Everything you could possibly need is packed. And the kids just left for a Disney cruise with my parents. I wanted us to have a second honeymoon.”
“Danny,” she says.
And I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling I’m going to be in trouble.
“Yeah?” I ask, hoping she’s okay that I planned this. Hoping she doesn’t want to open the suitcase and go through everything before we leave. Hoping she’ll be the carefree woman I met and fell in love with.
“This isn’t what I signed up for.”
“What do you mean?”
“A husband who models underwear, who—”
“Thanks to those underwear ads and all my endorsements, I could afford to splurge on those earrings.”
“And who has women with signs asking him to marry them.”
“Babe, it just goes with the territory of being married to a professional football player. You were excited when I got drafted, and we’ve been so fortunate to be able to stay in Kansas City. So many of my friends are constantly uprooting their families for a different team.”
“I would have loved to go somewhere a little more glamorous,” she says. That’s always been a bone of contention with her. She wanted me to get traded. Thought I could earn more. “Regardless, I honestly didn’t think you’d still be playing at this stage in our life.”
“What did you think?”
“That you’d play for a few years and then get a normal job.”
“A normal job couldn’t have bought you those earrings.”
“I have to admit, I was excited when you hurt your shoulder. I thought it would force you to retire.”
“Why would I have done that? I’m back and better than ever.”
“Yes,” she says with an irritated sigh, “so you’ve told me.”
“What’s wrong? Why do you seem pissed? I’ve spent hours planning this trip. Planned the spa day, so you wouldn’t know the kids were leaving, set up the cruise, got my parents to take them, helped them pack, chartered a private jet, had the earrings custom-made. They cost a quarter of a million dollars, Lori.”
“Maybe you should have bought another Ferrari, Danny.”
I roll my eyes. Really? She’s bringing up the Ferrari I bought with my signing bonus when I first got drafted after a wild night in Vegas for Phillip’s bachelor party. She’s always hated that car.
“Can we not do this now? Can we just go have some fun?” I plead.
“I can’t go to Fiji with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be married to you.”
I take a step back, wondering if I heard her right. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. Actually, this works out better than I planned. It’ll allow me to move out while the kids are gone. We can break the news to them when they get home.”
“Move out? But where will you go?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I’m seeing someone, Danny. I’m moving in with him.”
I instantly feel like I was sacked. A vicious, blindside hit. A hit so hard, I can feel it in my teeth because it rattles my bones, hits nerves, and sends aftershocks through my body, even before I hit the ground.
“Seeing? As in you’ve been having an affair?”
“Technically, I suppose you could call it that,” she says flatly.
“In other words, you’ve been fucking another guy while you are married to me?” My disbelief in her wanting to leave me turns to outright rage.
“Yes.”
“Who?” I’m going to kill him.
“Dr. Rash.”
“Your plastic surgeon?”
“Yeah.”
“So, all the appointments you’ve had for your boobs, the tucks, the lifts, the facials, the Botox—”
“That’s how we met.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve been paying him to screw my wife?”
“Danny, look, it’s not working. I’m not happy. You’ll be fine. You have plenty of women who want you.” She doesn’t look me in the eye when she says this; in fact, she’s looking at her freshly manicured nails, like we’re discussing the weather and not our relationship.
“How long?”
“How long what?” she asks, finally looking up.
“How long have you been sleeping with him?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “About a year.”
A horn honks out front, causing her to plaster a fake smile on her face. “Richard is here. Sorry, but I have to go.” She gives me an air kiss, grabs the suitcase I packed full of new clothes, bikinis, and sexy lingerie, and walks out the front door. Our front door.
I drop to a chair in my living room and sit in stunned silence, wondering what the heck just happened.
And then I realize that she left, wearing the earrings.
October 25th
Jennifer
I’m having a shitty day. No, it’s worse than shitty. Paparazzi are camped outside my house, hoping to catch a glimpse of me, hoping to see me looking as ragged as I feel. I’m just hoping, if I stay here long enough, they’ll forget about me and move on. Find their next scandal.
&nbs
p; My phone dings for the millionth time. I seriously don’t know how they got my cell number but, this time, as I glance at it, a familiar name pop up.
Mama: I’m pretty sure I told you so…
Me: Actually, you didn’t. You said that, if we weren’t married in the church, our relationship wouldn’t count. Yet we were together for over a decade.
Mama: A churchgoing man wouldn’t have done what he did. He’s not only off the wagon; he’s off the plantation. Color me not surprised.
Me: Well, I am. And it hurts.
Mama: Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. I told you that, too. He’s just like your no-good daddy.
Me: Thanks for your support. It means a lot.
Mama: Don’t get all snippy with me, young lady. I called and called, but you didn’t answer, so I had to resort to this newfangled texting. I just want to say that you’re always welcome at home.
Me: Thank you, Mama. I’ll think about it.
No way in hell am I going home. My parents live across the street from each other, and even though they were married in a church, they are about as dysfunctional as they come. They won’t get a divorce because of their religious beliefs. Daddy started drinking again when I was six, and Mama kicked him out. To annoy her, he moved into the house across the street. Since then, they’ve lived to spite each other. It’s part of why I’ve never married. I don’t ever want to be like them. I also swore, I’d never be in a relationship with someone who couldn’t control their drinking.
But here I am.
Mama was right about one thing though. I do need to get out of town.
As I’m contemplating where to go, another text pops up on my screen. I glance at it, assuming it’s Mama needing to get the last word in even if only by text.
Instead, I see it’s from an unknown number. I click over, intending to delete it, but the preview makes me curious, so I click on the full message.
You might not remember me, and this might not even still be your number, but this is Jadyn Mackenzie. We met at a Nebraska game a long time ago. If this is Jennifer Edwards, first of all, I’m really sorry for everything you’re going through. It must be awful. Second of all, this sounds crazy, but if you need to get out of LA, you are welcome to come stay with us in Kansas City. Not too many paparazzi there.
My heart does a flip as my mind flits back. It’s been, what? Fourteen years since I met a handsome, charismatic rookie quarterback named Danny Diamond? We had a crazy, instant connection. The kind of connection that, if he hadn’t been a newlywed with a brand-new baby, I would have acted upon that night.
I reply to Jadyn. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m a glutton for punishment. I’ve followed Danny’s career. I was in the stands when he won his first Championship. I obsessed over the photo of him holding his adorable little girl as confetti rained down on them that went viral and caused ovaries around the world to simultaneously explode. I understood why he stopped talking to me, why he chose to focus on his family, even though things were rocky with his wife. Or maybe it’s because Danny made me feel different—an odd combination of being extremely turned on while visions of a future together danced through my head like sugarplums. It sounds unbelievable, but on the night Danny and I met, I knew he was my future. I could see it all. Cheering for him at his games, having kids together, growing old.
We decided to just be friends though, and I respected him for being faithful to his wife.
I went to a Nebraska football game. By some miracle, he ended up there without his wife. I met his friends and loved them. We had so much fun together even though things were kept completely platonic.
I close my eyes, remembering how I felt when I saw the text from him saying he couldn’t see or talk to me again. There were other things said, but they didn’t matter. The damage was done. My heart felt shattered.
But then I met Troy at a friend’s wedding not long after, and we’ve pretty much been together ever since.
Well, were together.
And the last thing I need is to be on the other side of a tabloid scandal. I can only imagine the headlines if I had an affair with Danny. Although it would be the perfect place to get away, and I’m dying to see him again, I can’t.
I just can’t.
Not to mention the fact that I haven’t seen these people in years and, even then, I only spent a short time with them. I know she’s sincere though. Jadyn is one of Danny’s best friends and was one of the most honest and real people I’ve ever met.
Me: It’s great to hear from you. And thank you. I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure Danny’s wife would like it.
Jadyn: Remember when we were at the Nebraska game, and we talked briefly about fate? About people coming into your life for a reason? Maybe today is that reason. I’ll warn you in advance though. We have four kids and a dog, and sometimes, our house can be a little chaotic.
Jadyn: Okay, I lied. It’s always chaotic.
I’m getting ready to say, Thanks, but no, thanks, when another text pops up.
Troy: Baby, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll go back to rehab.
I hear a car pull into the driveway, shouts from reporters, and the clicking of high-speed lenses. A few moments later, Troy comes in the front door with his manager, Jason, tagging along behind him. Troy looks horrible. Like he’s been to hell and somehow clawed his way back.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to remain unaffected by him.
“I need to set things right with you.”
Somehow, I knew that’s what he was going to say. It’s what he always says.
“I told you not to come home. How can you even think of stepping foot in this house after what you did? You humiliated me—no, you humiliated yourself.”
“I know, I know.” He takes two strides toward me and slides his hand into the back of my hair. What used to be comforting now feels foreign. He looks deep into my eyes. “I had champagne backstage. You know I can handle a few glasses, but then I don’t know what happened. Things spiraled out of control. I didn’t mean to do it. Those girls meant nothing to me. I barely even remember what happened.”
“I told you this on the phone, but I’ll say it again in person,” I say, backing away from him. “We. Are. Through.”
“Don’t say that, Eddy,” he says, using his nickname for me. “I love you. You’re just mad. You can’t throw away our life together.”
“Troy, you are the one who threw our life away. I had nothing to do with it. I’ve stood by you every time something like this happened. You might not remember, but I do. I literally pulled you out of the gutter because the people you were partying with didn’t give a shit and left you there to die. And I got a black eye for my efforts. But I stood by you. Got you into rehab. A few years later, you called me drunk—again—from an alley because the prostitute you’d been with robbed you. I told you, when you went to rehab the second time, I wouldn’t be around if there were ever a need for a third.”
“I came back home because we’re going to work it out.” He’s sweating and crying and miserable. I can’t stand it. And I refuse to let it affect me. “I’m not leaving.”
“Fine,” I say, pivoting on my heel. I grab my purse and make my way toward the garage door.
“You can’t go!” he yells, coming at me.
I’m instantly scared. It wouldn’t be the first time he lashed out at me in a fit of rage, but usually, he was drunk. Now that I study him closer, I realize he might be just that.
Fortunately, his manager grabs him from behind. “Let her go, man.”
I take one last look at Troy, broken and pathetic. Certainly not the larger-than-life rock star I first fell for. When I shut the door behind me, I know I’m closing it on a big chapter of my life.
I get in the car, throw on a pair of dark sunglasses, and wonder where I’m going. The second I open the garage door, the press will surround me. When I pull away, they will follow.
Jadyn didn’t say anything about Danny’s wif
e. But it doesn’t matter. If I go to Kansas City, it won’t be because of him.
I think back to my earlier phone conversation with one of Troy’s friends, who called me as soon as the news broke. Who told me I should hear Troy’s side of the story before I jumped to any conclusions. That I should give him a chance to explain. That maybe we needed religious counseling this time. There’s no way in the world he could explain away the video images of his alcohol-and-drug-induced orgy at an Amsterdam brothel. I’ll never be able to unsee the things he did with those women. And I’ll never be able to unhear his answer when one of the girls asked about the Eddy tattoo on his arm. She thought it was about a guy and that he went both ways.
What he should have said was that the tattoo was the nickname he called the woman he loved, but instead, he said, “She’s nobody.”
Tears fill my eyes. Part of me wants to run back in there. To make it all better. I want to forget what I saw. I want us to work. I want him to love me. I want him to get better. To be the kind of man worthy of my love. The man I thought he could be.
But I can’t. For myself. I can’t do this anymore.
What I need is a no-bullshit friend.
So, I reply.
Me: Probably a different kind of chaos than what I’m facing here. Is it crazy that I’m considering taking you up on your offer?
Jadyn: Not at all crazy. I have a meeting in Santa Monica first thing tomorrow morning. You could meet me at the airport around 9:30 a.m. and fly home with me on the corporate jet.
Me: Are you in town now?
Jadyn: Yep. Just finished up for the day. I’m sitting at the hotel bar, having a well-deserved glass of wine.
