by Lainey Davis
This makes his jaw drop. I didn't know I was going to say that, but once it falls out of my mouth I know it's true. I fucking love that woman. I’ve rendered him speechless, and that’s saying something for a sports agent. He’s seen a lot of shit in his day. “You love her? You?” I nod. He whistles. “Well that’s unexpected. I thought you were just screwing her to get back at your brother or something.”
“Come on, man. I can screw anyone I want. I don’t need to do my brother dirty that way.”
“All right, all right.” He leans against the wall. "She the one who gave you the bloody nose at the DMV?"
I nod, and he laughs. "I ought to take self-defense lessons from her. Seems like she knows what she's doing."
He has no fucking idea how strong my girl is, but I'm not about to go into all that right now.
“This entire stairwell reeks of sex, Ty. You know that, right?” I nod. He claps me on the back. “Let’s get back up there and we’ll figure something out.”
By the time I get back to the party, Juniper is gone. I call her, but she doesn't answer. At least let me know u got home safe, I text her, but I don't even see that she reads my message. That Ben fucker is gone, so I'm hoping he got her home. Every fucking time, that woman runs out when shit gets intense. I sigh and head for home, promising myself I'll find her in the morning.
Matty calls me before dawn. I'm half hungover, slumped sideways across my bed and I only reached over to pick up the phone because I thought it'd be Juniper. “We’ve got a problem, buddy. Pull up TMZ. I’ll wait.” I roll sideways and pull up the website on my phone. I see pictures of myself coming out of Juniper’s townhouse--grainy, far-off shots of me kissing her goodbye, walking away toward my car. The headline reads LUSTING FOR LAWYER and there’s some puff piece bullshit about how I’m boning my lawyer in secret.
“That fucking delivery guy,” I say to Matty. “I tipped him, gave him an autograph, and took a damn selfie with him and he still ratted me out to the paparazzi. How did they find out Juniper’s name?”
Matty prattles on about data aggregate sites and how much information is public if you feel motivated to search. I can feel my blood start to boil as fast as the whiskey hangover sends my head throbbing.
“Look, what are the chances that your brother is aware of this?”
I wait for a beat and say, “Ordinarily, I think he’d be on top of this shit immediately. But I know he meets with the Cavs on Monday and I think he’s holed up with his secret girlfriend preparing all weekend.”
“Your brother has a girlfriend, too?”
“Some chick my grandma knows from when we were growing up,” I tell him. “She’s a muffin chef. Or something. He doesn’t think we know, but he’s been seeing her on the sly for weeks.”
“All right, Ty. Give me until Monday and I’ll figure something out. Luckily this doesn’t seem too scandalous and I don’t think it’ll stick much to the top of the gossip sites. You better hope one of your teammates pees in the Stanley Cup or something this weekend.”
Twenty-five
JUNIPER
I can't bear to stay at the gala after Matty nearly caught us in the hallway. What happened with Ty was too intense for me to just go back up there and make small talk. I tell Ben and the execs I need to focus on a client, remind everyone how much time I spend bailing the Fury out of the drunk tank, and I leave to high fives and martini salutes. Ben and I share a cab back to Stag Law and work on the Cavs presentation for awhile.
"I'm sorry I took you from your celebrity hockey party," I say.
He shrugs. "Plenty more where that came from. What do you think about these numbers for workers comp claims?" We work for a few more hours and eventually I take a cab home, worn out. I feel empty inside and barely sleep.
When I finally drift off around dawn, I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Another set of texts from Ty.
U up? Need 2 talk
Also this. He sent a link to a series of studies about birth control and performance in female athletes. Something about fewer knee injuries.
I roll my eyes and send back, ok ok I get it. You like it bareback. I flush thinking about what happened between us last night. How raw his want for me was and how much I responded to him. I was out of my mind with passion. It was a totally new level for me, even with Ty.
Just looking out for ur rowing, babe. Call me, though. Important.
Is this a thing I do now? Call up Ty and let him call me babe over text message? I sigh and dial his number. He answers on the first ring, like he’s sitting there waiting for me to call. “Good morning, gorgeous. Did you shower yet?”
“What? Why?”
“Just wondering if you’ve still got me all over your beautiful backside.”
“Jesus, Ty. You’re disgusting. You’re lucky you didn’t stain my gown.” I blush again, remembering his finale in the stairwell.
“I would buy you a new one. It was worth it. Anyway, listen. Something happened.”
I remember that Matty had walked into the stairwell just after we had finished fucking, but I feel pretty sure he hadn’t seen anything definitive. “What?” My voice is hesitant, but doesn't shake as much as my hands.
“I mean, you know Matty knows. But he’s not the problem.”
“What are you talking about, Ty?”
“We’re on TMZ.”
I feel like my insides are turning out. I start to hyperventilate. I’m going to lose my job and I'm going to get disbarred. “Juniper!” I realize Ty must have been calling out to me.
“I’m here. What are we going to do? There's going to be a fucking ethics review, Ty.”
“We’re going to talk with Tim. Matty says he thinks it’ll be ok. Listen, since everyone knows about us anyway, do you want to come have breakfast with me and my grandma? She can meet you as my girlfriend.”
“Ty, this is all really fast for me. I don’t share your confidence that Tim is going to be ok with this and--”
“Just come over for pancakes. Tim is holed up with Alice getting ready for the Cavs on Monday. I promise he’s not looking at the celebrity gossip.”
I snort. Tim is a maniac about that contract with Cleveland. I want to tell Ty that I need to be working on it, too, but I don't want that client. I don't want to work this weekend. I want to go eat pancakes with my boyfriend and his grandmother, and I start crying into the phone from all the stress of the whole situation.
"Hey, Junebug. Hey. Don't shut me out this time. Don't run away from me. Do you want me to come get you? Let me take care of you today."
When he talks to me, his voice as smooth as maple syrup, I feel safe. He makes me think it can somehow all be ok. That I can be a person who eats weekend pancakes with my lover and his grandma. Some sort of fantasy orphan chicks don't even dare to utter out loud. And yet he's right there on the other end of the phone assuring me it's all real. "No, I'll be ok," I sniffle. "When should I come over?"
"I smell bacon, Junebug. You better hurry before I eat it all."
A half hour later, I find myself parked outside the Stag family home, still on the verge of hyperventilating. As I ring the doorbell, I realize I shouldn’t be officially meeting his grandmother wearing sweatpants. Why didn't I stop to change? Or buy flowers? The door opens.
“Juniper! Dear! Come inside.” Anna Stag ushers me into the house before I can apologize for my informality. “When Tyrion told me he wanted to introduce me to the woman who makes him mopey, I was hoping it would be you!”
“Mopey?” Does everyone in this family speak in code, I wonder. She pulls me into the kitchen and hands me a mug of coffee, hollering for Ty to come down and greet his “own damn girlfriend.”
He pulls me in for a kiss and I stiffen instinctively, forgetting that I’m here to discuss a plan to go public with our relationship. He rubs my back and I relax into his arm, clutching the caffeinated brew. Once I finish the coffee, I feel like I can concentrate enough to ask questions. “Did you say Tim was wi
th Alice this weekend? Why would they be together preparing for the meeting? Unless…"
Mrs. Stag smiles as she flips pancakes into the air. Ty nods. “Oh, big time. He thinks we don’t know, but Gram saw him over at her house a bunch of times playing with her nephews.”
“I can’t…” I try to imagine my stern boss playing with children and come up at a loss. “That sounds so unlike him. But you know, Alice has been on the verge of telling me something for a month now. Huh. Tim and Alice.”
“Try these, dear,” Mrs. Stag says, sliding me a plate of pancakes. “I know Tyrion said you worry about your food, too, so I added flax and buckwheat to these.”
I taste a forkful of the pancakes, and I melt into my stool at the counter. “These are amazing, Mrs. Stag.”
She pats my hand. “You should have been calling me Anna a long time ago, dear. And I got these recipe ideas from Alice.”
As I eat, Ty and his grandma talk about how they think we should use Tim’s secret relationship to our advantage. I’m not really comfortable with the idea of capitalizing on something like this, but Ty says we’re not going to blackmail him. “No way, JJ. I’m going to explain that I couldn’t help but fall for you, like he couldn’t help but fall in love with Alice. Like a--what’s that called, Gram?”
“It’s an analogy, dear,” she says, smiling.
I shake my head. “I think you’re both being naive about this.” I can’t stop eating the delicious pancakes and Ty’s grandma slides me a plate of bacon. “But I do think you’re right that he won’t notice this happened until at least after the meeting on Monday.”
Ty and his grandmother both start to talk about how much they hate the idea of him expanding the firm too fast, too big. Ty gets especially angry when I mention that Tim implied I might have to do some travel to service the new clients if we land the deal. I sit in the kitchen with them for hours, talking and eating, until I realize I’ve nearly missed my morning opportunity to row before all the beer cruise boaters get reckless on the river. I excuse myself to go train, and allow myself to savor the comfortable, familiar feeling of kissing Ty by my car before driving away. Could this be my future, I wonder. It feels too good to be true.
I stay up late Sunday preparing for Monday’s meeting, and enter it with a heavy heart. I don’t want it to be successful, and yet I can’t allow myself to perform poorly on purpose. The morning of, I climb into my best power suit, complete with heels. I like to look as tall as possible when I'm presenting for a crowd. I am at eye level with the suits when we shake hands in the hall at work. Tim seems delighted. I feel distracted throughout the budget presentation and when Tim takes the lead to discuss numbers, individual athlete contracts, and injury clauses, I notice that Alice looks practically grey as she passes out trays of food in the conference room.
I try to catch her attention to ask if she’s ok, when I see her start to faint. Then, all hell breaks loose at the office.
Twenty-six
TY
"Thatcher, pick up the damn phone.” I yell into his voicemail as I barrel down the highway toward his studio. “Fuck!” When he doesn’t answer I keep driving. To hell with him if he has some woman squirreled away in his studio today. I knew something was wrong when I didn’t hear from Tim or Juniper on Monday after their meeting, and then she called me this morning with the news. I screech to a halt in the gravel lot outside Stag Glass and throw open the door.
My brother is bent over his workbench, blaring music and banging away at some red-hot piece of molten glass. I shut off his radio, but don’t get too close because I don’t want that fucker to burn me. “Thatcher. We have a problem, man.”
He frowns, plunges his work into a bucket of water, and raises his eyebrows--my permission to explain myself. “Juniper just called.”
“Your lawyer?”
I wave away that question. “Listen, she said Alice fainted during their big meeting at the law firm and cut her head. Tim rode with her to the hospital and then went insane, holed himself up in his office, and just rushed out of there all bloody and wild-eyed.”
Thatcher just stares at me.
“Dude, Tim has been fucking Alice.”
“Our brother Tim? Mr. stern Stag? And one of his employees?”
I nod. “I know, man, but he’s freaking out. Apparently he drove over to Alice’s house spewing some insane scheme. Juniper said he was holed up in his office ever since he got back, muttering.”
Thatcher scratches his beard, thinking. “He told me he was banging some chick without a condom. A few weeks ago. He said she drove him to distraction.” Thatcher shrugs. “Where is he now?”
“Let’s go, man, he’s probably over at the Peterson house causing a scene.”
We drive in search of our brother and I fill Thatcher in on my TMZ situation. Thatcher laughs when I tell him I’d been planning to use Tim's distraction at work as a screen to convince him it's cool that Juniper and I are together. “His situation sure trumps yours, baby bro.”
I grit my teeth and head to our neighborhood, where the Petersons live just a few streets away from me and Gram.
Only Tim isn’t at the Peterson house anymore.
When we pull up, Alice's brothers are sitting on the porch with a metal baseball bat. Thatcher laughs. "This doesn't look great, Ty."
I see Tim's car parked half in the street, blocking their driveway. "Thatch, let's go up there together."
"I'm not going anywhere near this shit-show, baby brother," he says, tugging on his damn beard. "Listen, you go talk to them and tell them you'll move Tim's car."
I shake my head at my brother and climb out of my Tesla. "Hey, Petersons," I call, walking toward them with my hands up. "We just came to find our brother. We don't want to cause any trouble here."
One of the Peterson brothers stands up. The one with the bat. I can handle a bat. "It's me, Ty Stag. You guys went to school with my brothers?"
"You mean your crazy ass brother who knocked up our sister and showed up here trying to kidnap her?"
"What?"
"You heard me, Stag. Get the fuck out of here. Move that fucking car of his while you're at it."
I freeze in my tracks. I feel my face contorting. Did he say pregnant? My brother Tim got his girlfriend pregnant? "Hey, guys, what do you say you put the bat down and I sign some autographs for the kids and you tell me exactly what my dickhead brother did so I can make amends."
Thatcher and I park Tim's car at Gram’s house and walk the neighborhood, until we eventually find him in the park. He’s slumped over by the fountain looking like he’s been in a fight with Satan himself. We sit on either side of him and pat his leg, which is bro-speak for “everything is going to be ok, dude.”
I give him an exaggerated sniff. He’s obviously been wearing the same clothes for a few days. I have never seen him disheveled like this, even when he was cramming for law school exams. “Bro, I hate to tell you this, but your shirt is untucked,” I say. Thatcher cracks up and starts plucking blades of grass off the shoulders of Tim’s suit.
Tim has been our rock for over ten years. Nobody asks to be responsible for their snot-nosed brothers, but Tim stepped up as soon as it was obvious our dad wasn’t going to be around to parent us. I realize, looking at him falling apart like this, that it’s all been really one-way. Even once we became adults, Thatcher and I never reached out to him or offered any sort of support. “Tim, you know you can talk to me about stuff, right? I mean...shit. I’m here for you no matter what. God knows you’ve been there for me.” Thatcher nods.
“We’re going to be amazing uncles,” I say. “And from the looks of things, Baby Stag’s got some other uncles who’ll look out for him, too.”
Thatcher lets out a huff, muttering about a shotgun wedding until I punch him in the shoulder. I wish I were better at talking about this stuff. Tim’s still staring off into space, blood on his shirt, stubble on his face for the first time I’ve ever seen. “All those times you bailed me out, talked to teache
rs when I got in fights, made sure I was allowed to stay in school. Tim, you’ve been a dad to me for a long time, bro. You've been our dad. You’re already good at this, is what I’m trying to say.”
He looks over at me then, like he finally hears me. His eyes are all watery, and I choke up. Thatcher pipes in, saying, “It’s true, Tim-bo. You’re already good at being everybody’s dad.” Tim closes his eyes and his body seems to relax a bit more.
“Come on,” I say, giving him a lift to his feet. “Let’s get you home before Alice's brothers come after us with their hunting rifle.”
Twenty-seven
JUNIPER
Things have been crazy at work since Alice passed out. As soon as we got her off in the ambulance, I snapped into action mode with the executives from the Cavs. I managed to spin Tim’s panicked departure into a description of him as a devoted and dedicated leader, which is all true. But everything about the presentation sat wrong with me.
Since I came here, I compromised almost everything that’s important to me. I’m sleeping with a client, which is unethical no matter how strong my feelings might have grown for Ty. I’m slacking on my rowing, I took a leave from the women’s rowing team, I missed watching tryouts for nationals...there is almost nothing left I recognize about myself.
While I try to settle my mind, there’s nothing I can think to do other than escape to the boathouse. I reach for the phone to call Lisa in Boston, but saying all this stuff out loud feels too overwhelming. I can't really call Alice, because she's got enough going on with her drama. And Ty. I just can't call him right now, either. Everything is a mess.
I’ve got nothing on my plate at work right now anyhow. All my NHL clients are behaving themselves and I’m pretty sure I unwittingly bagged the Cavs contract. Might as well take to the river while I still can.
