Giving the commissioner a firm nod, I reply, “Message received, sir, but you don’t have to worry about that. I won’t let anything happen to her.”
He looks me dead in the eye. “Good.” Turning on his heel, he walks toward the stage and is swallowed up by the crowed.
As soon as he walks away, I pull her into my arms, being as careful as I can with her leg. “I had to hug you to know I’m not imagining you.”
“It’s really me,” she whispers.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
She squeezes tighter. “I couldn’t miss it.”
Pulling back, I put my hand on her cheek and look her in the eye. “You really didn’t have to—”
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. “I did. I really did. Over the last year, you’ve made me feel so loved and supported, and I want you to know with absolute certainty that I’ll be there for you through anything and everything, no matter how difficult it is. I can’t let pain hold me back from the good things in my life. In our life. My love for you is so much stronger than the pain, and it’s about time I prove that. The words ‘I love you’ are meaningless unless I back them up.”
“You never need to prove anything to me. I know how much you love me. But having you here right now means the world to me.” I put a hand on either side of her face and kiss her, hoping I can convey all passion, pride, and utter adoration I feel for her right now.
She got on a plane a week after knee surgery. She’s standing feet from where her mother was slaughtered, and she’s putting herself in the exact same situation her mother was in when she died. She’s living that nightmare for me. Everyone else may remember this as Super Bowl Scuffle or the night a legend’s career ended. But I’ll always remember this moment as the time I fell even further in love with Arianna, something I’d never thought was possible.
Where’s a ring when you need one?
Someone taps my shoulder. “Um, Mr. Brennan, sir? Excuse me.”
I don’t like to ignore fans, but it’s pretty obvious I’m in the middle of something. It takes serious balls to interrupt a man kissing his woman.
Another tap. “Mr. Brennan, sir, um, the trophy presentation? You’re needed on the stage.”
For a second, I’d forgotten all about the Super Bowl and winning. As crazy as it seems, it hardly seems important at the moment.
Ari pulls back then wipes lipstick off my upper lip. “You’d better get up there.”
The kid in a network windbreaker is wearing headphones and holding a clipboard. He looks as though he might piss himself. “Mr. Brennan, they’re calling for you. We’re on a tight schedule. Please. I’ll lose my job if I don’t get you up there right now.”
Sighing, I let go of Ari. Looking at the kid, I bark, “Tell them I’m coming.” I give Ari a chaste kiss. “Got to go to work. Where will I find you?”
She shrugs. “I’ll be around.” She pats her brace. “Can’t get too far with this baby. I’ll find you after the press conference.”
“Um…” The kid pushes against his headphones as though he’s trying to hear the other person better. “Um, Ms. Aldrich, um, my boss said I should tell you to go up to the booth and stop causing trouble.” Wincing, he curls his body inward as though he’s preparing to get hit. “Their words, not mine.”
“Looks like I’ve been summoned,” she says. “And you need to get going. You don’t want to keep America waiting.”
“Mr. Brennan, please,” the kid begs. “They cannot start the trophy presentation without you, and the telecast is already running so late.”
“All right, kid. All right.” I kiss Ari’s cheek. “See you in a few.”
“Oh, Chase?” she calls as I walk away.
I turn around. “Yeah?”
“I forgot to say congratulations. You were amazing. The best I’ve ever seen you play. I’m so proud of you.” She blows a kiss then turns toward the elevators and limps away.
The presentation goes quickly. I’m awarded the MVP trophy, which I share with Oliver Marshall. He’s always been a real good guy to me, and it’s a shame his career has gone out the way it has.
The press conference is typical. Reporters ask questions only a chump would answer. In response, they get a non-answer with a touch of humor. They don’t realize I’ve ducked the question until they’ve stopped laughing. By then, I’ve moved on to the next reporter. Arianna’s not the only one who studied the art of PR under Aiden. The whole ordeal feels like a waste of time, but it’s the dance we have to do. They ask far too many questions about Arianna for my liking. It’s the goddamned Super Bowl. Let’s talk about football. If they have the balls to waste press conference time on questions about my relationship, I know they’re going to harass her.
After the press conference wraps up, I sign a bunch of autographs, then I run into my parents, Charlie, and Spencer. After congratulatory hugs, I look around. “Where’s Ari?”
“I was just about to ask you that.” Charlie cranes her neck to look for her. “We assumed she was with you.”
“Are you talking about Arianna Aldrich?” the guard next to the locker room asks.
Charlie walks toward him. “Yes. Have you seen her?”
He points toward the field. “Some reporters were harassing her. Mr. Kane just happened to be leaving the locker room at the time, and his bodyguards scared them away, but I saw her and Mr. Kane walk back to the field.”
Having a good idea where they went, I take off toward the field.
“Slow down,” Charlie yells, trying to keep up. “I’m pregnant and in heels.”
“She’s on the Denver sideline, almost to the other end zone,” I call to her as I pick up the pace.
When I get to the end zone, Mr. Kane’s security team is fighting off a gaggle of reporters trying to take picture of Ari. She’s sitting on the ground, looking at the memorial for her mother. Nodding at Mr. Kane, I sit next to her. Kane pats my shoulder then leaves, but his bodyguards stay.
“This is where it happened?” she says.
All week long, people have put flowers and cards and things on this spot. Savannah wasn’t the average football wife. She was active in the league in a number of ways. While I was too young to remember, I’ve been told time and time again how her death left a void in the culture and family of the league. Ari picks up a bouquet of roses and smells them.
I put my arm around Ari. “The stadium staff has collected all the remembrances people have left here for her. I have the cards and things in my hotel room, but I had them send the flowers to the hospital and senior center. They collect everything at the end of each day, but the following morning there’s always been more. Fans, NFL staff, reporters. So many people have come by to pay their respects.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “A reporter had the balls to ask for a picture of me standing by the plaque. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then, despite Jeb’s protests, I had to go see for myself.”
Rubbing circles on her back, I kiss the top of her head. I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better. Charlie arrives a few moments later and sits on Ari’s other side. They go through all the cards that people have left today. A few people included magazine articles, obituaries, and pictures of Savannah. It’s remarkable how much Ari looks like Savannah.
After a few minutes, Ari kisses her fingers then touches the plaque. With tears in her eyes, she turns to me. “I’m ready to go.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
Blinking back her tears, she shakes her head. “I am. I’ve said good-bye to my mother a million times. There’s not much left say now.” She picks up the stack of cards. “These were lovely. I’m happy I got to see them and the plaque. I’m touched by how many people went out of their way to remember Mom. But if I stay here too long, I’ll start thinking too much. I’m ready to go.”
After helping her to her feet, the three of us slowly walk back to the locker room.
Probably trying to change the subject and l
ighten the mood, Charlie asks, “What’s the after party lineup?”
I have a list of parties I’m required to make an appearance at. I wish to God I didn’t have to. Not only because I know the Toradol shots will wear off soon, but because Ari’s had a helluvah day. The last thing I want is for her to have to plaster on a smile and make the rounds.
I turn to Ari. “We don’t have to—”
“Stop,” Ari orders. “We’re going. You won the freaking Super Bowl, and I had a pretty big day too, so we’re going to celebrate. At least for a little bit. Charlie and I are going back to the hotel to change. Have the limo pick us up there.” She kisses my cheek. “See you soon.”
When she enters the limo later that night, she takes my breath away. The last thing I want to do is share her, but we go anyway. Ari and I have completely different party strategies. I go in, see who I have to see, then I camp out, whereas she works the room. It’s hard to keep up with her. I last about an hour before the pain flares up. I last another hour before it becomes unbearable.
When we get back to the hotel room, we collapse into bed, me with ice packs around my ribs and Ari with ice packs around her knee.
She looks at us and laughs. “Aren’t we the pair with our his-and-hers ice packs? Sexiest Super Bowl victory party ever.”
I reach for her hand. “Well, yeah. You’re here, so of course it is.”
“Oh, that was good, Brennan.” She twists to kiss me but turns her knee funny and ends up falling onto my ribs. I wince. “Sorry,” she says. “All I wanted to do was kiss you.”
I pat her right leg. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you all the sexy time you can handle. Tonight, unfortunately, I can’t move.”
I expect some sort of flirtatious quip, but she doesn’t say a word. My ego takes a dive over the next few minutes of silence.
Eventually, she clears her throat. “Actually, if you’re feeling up to it, I was hoping you might go with me on a little road trip.”
“Road trip?”
“A four-hour road trip.” There’s tension in her voice.
I can’t turn to look at her face, but I know something’s up. Ari’s road trip ideas are never simple. When I went to see her in Switzerland, we drove twelve hours into the mountains, looking for this chocolatier who supposedly made the world’s best chocolate only to find out he’d died. After the Australian Open one year, she wanted to check out some obscure surfing spot she’d heard about that also happened to house a colony of little penguins. We searched for three days and never found it. We fought the entire time, but we had pretty amazing angry sex.
“To be honest, with how sore I am, that sounds like hell, but if you want to go, you know I’m there. Let me text the trainers. Maybe I can get another shot tomorrow morning.” I reach for my phone, but even the slightest movement sends pain shooting up my back. “On second thought, I’ll try him in the morning. Where are we going?”
“To see Jaime,” she says sheepishly.
Ignoring the excruciating pain, I sit up and gape at her. “What? Are you insane? Why would you want to see her?”
She tells me about the ways she kept herself busy after the surgery, and I want to kick myself for not fighting harder to get her to stay with me. Or my parents. I should have made more time for her that week. Now she’s slid down this rabbit hole.
“Jesus, Ari, if I’d known that’s what you were doing, I would have dragged you to practice with me. You should know better than to watch that shit. Why would you torture yourself that way?”
She covers her face with her hands. “I know. I know. It was stupid, but I did it. The toothpaste cannot go back into the tube, and I can’t unsee what I saw. Everything I watched stirred up everything about my parents and their ‘arrangement.’ Every documentary, every book went on and on about how much my parents were in love. But all I could think was, were they? We know he had affairs. What if Jaime’s been telling the truth all along? I can’t let it go. I’ve tried and tried, but I can’t. It’s there in the back of my mind, scratching and clawing for me to pay attention. I’ll go crazy if I don’t at least try to figure this out. I have to know the truth.”
Why can’t she just want to see the house made of beer cans or that Stonehenge replica made out of Cadillacs? Rubbing my temples, I think about what a disaster this is going to be. I can’t fathom a scenario where Ari will walk out of that visit in one piece. This path leads to certain heartache.
“How do you know she’d even be willing to see you? And even if she will see you, she’s insane. How could you trust anything she said?” I ask.
“Wallace set it up. My appointment is tomorrow at four. Will you come with me? Please?”
I can’t believe Wallace did this for her. I’m going to kill him. Her pleading green eyes are so hard to say no to though. That coupled with the fact I know she’ll go regardless of whether I go with her or not. If I go, at least I can be there to pick up the pieces when she shatters. “You know I will, but I’m worried about what this will do to you. Have you thought about how you’ll feel if she can somehow prove she had an affair with Aiden? I know you want to know the truth, but what if the truth is something that will break your heart?”
“The uncertainty makes it impossible for me to put it to rest. Jeb asked me to host a memorial for Daddy in a couple of months, and I had no idea what to say. How can I give a speech honoring a man I don’t know if I believe in anymore? Once I know the truth, I can try to find a way to forgive him, but I need to know so I can either condemn him or stop persecuting him. One way or the other, we’ll both find peace.”
I think, second to running off to Europe, this is the worst idea she’s ever had. I don’t see how it could possibly end well. But she’s confronting her problems. She’s trying to stop stuffing her emotions in a box and putting them on a shelf. I suppose there’s good in that somewhere. I’m just having a hard time finding it.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Arianna
Cœur de Terre. Heart of the earth. The name sounds so innocuous and is much more fitting for a spa or horse farm. Nothing about the name indicates a locked-ward psychiatric hospital for the insane and insanely wealthy. This is where the rich hide their dirty little secrets—pedophile uncles, sociopathic daughters, and impulsively violent sons—when they can’t keep buying off the victims. Very few people know of its existence, and that’s just how they’d like it to stay. The location makes that easy. Cœur de Terre is built on farmland nestled between three lakes and the Mississippi River, keeping it completely isolated. There’s only one way in or out of the property, and if you aren’t looking for that small one-lane road, you’d never know it’s there.
On Monday morning, Chase gets up and does a few morning shows via satellite, then we take off for a four-hour drive down one-lane highways and back roads almost to the Mississippi border. Chase pulls up to the gates, gives my name, and lets the guard know I have an appointment. The guard checks our IDs, then he talks to someone on the guard shack phone before we’re buzzed through. Before we make it to the main building, we have to be buzzed through three more sets of heavy, slow-moving gates. The next gate doesn’t open until the last one is completely closed. Chase proceeds down the long, winding driveway cutting through the rolling meadow.
When we reach the main building, I’m shocked. It looks like something straight out of Gone with the Wind. The facility is a huge white antebellum plantation house with Grecian pillars and a huge porch made for sipping iced tea and mint julips. The sprawling manicured lawns and exquisite flower gardens are a sight to behold. It’s hard to believe this is actually a fortress locked up tighter than Fort Knox. I’ve been told that amid those rose bushes and magnolia trees, there’s barbed wire and enough electric fencing to take down an elephant, but I can’t see a hint of them.
“This place is a trip,” Chase says as he parks the car. He takes my hand. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod. “I have to. It’ll drive me crazy for the rest of my life if I
don’t.”
“Let’s go then.” He gets out of the car then comes around to open my door.
When we enter the building, we have to go through security procedures. We’re sent to separate rooms, and the guard asks me to remove my jacket and sweater. She makes me take off my brace and shoes, then she pats me down. I don’t think my physician gives that thorough of an examination. I guess I should be thankful she’s gentle with my knee. After my frisking, she directs me to the lobby. Chase and I sign in and take a seat.
Chase looks around. “I can’t get over this place. It looks like a museum or an old-age home.”
A few minutes later, another guard enters. “They’re ready for you, but you have to meet with the head of security first. Right this way.”
Chase stands then helps me up. We follow the guard into a small room.
A man in a suit stands and buttons his jacket. “Ms. Aldrich, Mr. Brennan, such a pleasure to meet you. I’m Christopher Martinson, the head of security. Before I send you in, we have to go over a few things. We’ve received notification from the Department of Corrections approving this meeting. While it’s highly unorthodox, with judicial authorization, we’re willing to comply.”
I wonder how Wallace made this happen. I read that Louisiana has a Victim-Offender Dialogue program, where victims can meet with their offenders in an effort to find closure. Typically, the victim has to go through months and months of therapy with a DOC social worker before they will even consider setting up a meeting. Plus, on top of that, a meeting cannot be set without judicial approval. I’m guessing Wallace pulled a few strings or paid someone off. Either way, I’ll have to send him a nice Christmas gift.
“In a few moments, Ms. Aldrich, you’ll be brought into a room with a glass partition. Do not touch the partition. The intercom system will allow you to hear each other just fine. Hospital staff will monitor the meeting. Your meeting is limited to twenty minutes but can be terminated at any time by hospital staff. We received your list of questions, and while they teeter on the edge of what Ms. Wilcox’s doctors are comfortable with, as long as you stick to these questions alone, the meeting should go smoothly. Veering away from the approved questions is grounds for termination of the meeting. Ms. Wilcox will undoubtedly prompt you for information about your father, you, your life. Do not give her any information. It will undermine her treatment.”
Love To Hate You Page 47
