by Stella Rhys
“That… definitely makes sense,” I mumbled while rubbing both hands up and down my face. Everyone in the world is out to protect themselves, and themselves only. Stop forgetting that, I told myself while sucking in a deep breath. “Alright.” I regrouped. I definitely hadn’t expected this bombshell tonight, but I also wasn’t the type to roll over and let it defeat me. “So, what now? How serious are they about trading me and what can I do to change their minds? Because this is my team. I’m not playing anywhere else.”
“And why is that?” Iain asked.
“You know why.”
It was because I’d sacrificed my life and everyone in it to baseball. It was the last thing I cared about in this world, and within the sport, the Empires were the only team that I wanted to play for. I’d been with some shitty organizations in the past and I knew that I had a good thing going on here. Aside from the fact that I actually respected management and ownership and got along with my teammates, I had the best chance of winning it all here. We’d lost the last two World Series to Chicago and St. Louis, which was fucking infuriating, but since acquiring some stellar relief pitching in December, we were favorites to win it all this year.
And considering that championship was the one thing I lived for, there was no way in hell I was going to miss out.
“I’d say your chances of being traded is at about fifty percent right now,” Iain finally said, prompting me to let go of a long, whooshing breath. “But I don’t think it’s impossible for you to flip their decision. You just need to show them some drastic changes as soon as possible. Aside from keeping the temper in check, my suggestion would be to go cold turkey on the late nights and partying. It’s May now and the trade deadline is July thirty-first. That means you have three months at most to convince the front office that you’re a changed man, and that you’ve settled down.”
“Great. And I’m guessing you want me to start tonight by drinking Shirley Temples and going home by midnight,” I said as we pulled up to Boulevardier. Iain actually offered a laugh as he climbed out of the car.
“Before midnight would be ideal,” he said as I followed him out. “If you can manage to do that and act like a civilized human being tonight, then we might very well be able to save your job in New York.”
3
DREW
Three cocktails and a Prosecco later, I found myself returning a bright smile to the bartender from across the room and giving a happy thumbs up after he mouthed, “You good?” I even mouthed back “thank you” for the firm no he gave me during my last visit, when I approached the bar and asked if I could please just check my text messages.
I couldn’t be mad considering it was exactly what I’d asked for. I’d held this man to a promise, he was doing his job, and this whole thing would’ve been considered a perfectly pleasant and successful exchange if I weren’t in fact a giant, conniving bullshitter who was on her way to the terrace so she could talk on a stranger’s borrowed phone without Mr. Bartender ruining her fun.
And by fun, of course, I meant the opposite of that because the second I disappeared onto the terrace and out of the bartender’s sight, I let my breezy gal act fade into oblivion and turned into a cheerless mess again. My bleary eyes scanned the deck for a quiet corner, my hands already sweaty and my heart beating out of my chest because I was really about to do it.
I was about to talk to Mike.
And not just talk to him – I was going to say everything I’d held in last time for the sake of sounding “okay” and “not too emotional.” I was going to ask everything that was on my mind, and I was going to get all the answers I didn’t get the day he left me and packed the moving truck I booked with only his stuff. I was going to do it, damn it – I was going to get my closure.
That was at least what I told myself until I got his voicemail.
“Fuck,” I breathed just as I turned a corner to the empty, less scenic side of the terrace. I panicked as the automated voice began reciting his number then completely froze as I listened to that shrill beep and the deafening silence that followed.
Alright, go. Come on. Say something – anything!
“Um… hi.”
Damn.
This was already off to a bad start. Somehow, I hadn’t been as nervous for a live conversation with Mike. At least with that, I’d have his voice – someone to bounce my thoughts off of. But with this, it was like I’d just been thrust naked on a stage and asked to summarize my emotional turmoil in twenty seconds or less.
“Um.”
Another ‘um,’ Evie? I took another half-second to mentally berate myself before getting my shit somewhat together.
“Okay. Hey,” I restarted, clearing my throat. “So. I was calling tonight because I couldn’t stop thinking about… things. And all these questions I wanted to ask you. I know it sounds stupid, but I was thinking about Hillary’s cat that we were supposed to babysit in August,” I said, floating toward the balcony. I kept my voice passably casual but my knuckles were turning white as I gripped the cold steel of the railing. “And I know August is forever away, but then I remembered that we both consulted on her restaurant, and we’re supposed to go to her big opening next month,” I said steadily. Then with a pause, I added, “Together.”
And with that word, my voice cracked.
“Um…”
Oh, come on, Evie.
Thrusting a hand in my hair, I tried to collect myself. But as I gazed way down at the street below and spotted some pizzeria that merely reminded me of the place we had our first date, I lost my train of thought completely. My vision fogged, the tears came back, and boom.
I went off script.
“You know what, fuck it – my main thing right now is that I just miss you so much, Mike.”
Yep, that was definitely not what I was supposed to say. I was supposed to tackle all these legitimate questions and concerns, but now I was talking a mile a minute about a bunch of sad, mushy bullshit – like how I missed overhearing him call me wifey to his friends, and how I still leaned back in bed at night because I expected him to be there to hold me. I still put my monogrammed E mug next to his M mug so that it spelled the word “me” inside the cupboard, and by the way, did he want that mug back?
“I could mail it to the new apartment,” I offered breathlessly, my eyes shifting as I bit down on my thumbnail and searched myself for more conversation. “How is it, by the way? The apartment?”
What the hell, why are you asking him questions like he’s there?
“I mean I know it’s great. I’ve seen it,” I said hastily. I chose it. “I just wish I could see what you did with it,” I added with a sheepish laugh, remembering that amazing wall of windows that overlooked the East River. “The amount of sunlight that place gets is amazing. Your basil plant’s gonna get huge. I always thought it would be cool to put the dining table right by those big windows so we could just pick fresh basil off the stems during dinner,” I said before suddenly catching myself and practically choking on my own spit. “I mean – not ‘we’ like we’re still together ‘we,’ I just meant – ” Oh Lord, Evie. I touched my fingers to my mouth for a second to collect myself, but I was quickly realizing there was nothing left to collect. “Okay, I don’t know what I meant,” I confessed hastily, my heart beating fast. “I mean you said you wanted to get back together eventually, and in case it isn’t obvious, I want to get back together too, because… I honestly don’t even recognize my life without you in it, Mike. I don’t. I swear to God, it feels like when you’re not here, I don’t even know how to – ”
“Fuck, woman. You gotta stop.”
Blinking twice, I paused.
Excuse me?
I lowered my phone slowly, confused for all of a second before I processed that I was not in fact alone on this side of the terrace, and that a nearby stranger had just been eavesdropping on every second my misery.
It was precisely then that my eyes lit on fire and transitioned from wistful tears to a death look worthy
of Medusa. Right away, there were about a dozen profane versions of “mind your own business” warming up on my tongue, and I was beyond ready to launch every one of them at this random, remarkably rude and nosy asshole behind me. But as soon as I turned around and let my stare land on him, something inside me yelled hold fire!
And it was definitely not my brain.
Because wow.
Seriously. Wow. That was a whole lotta man standing in front of me.
Are you actually Thor? I was genuinely perplexed as my eyes traveled up the sheer length of this man’s torso. Jesus. If any one person deserved to be the picture next to the Oxford definition of masculinity, it was definitely this prick right here. He was so big he cast a shadow over me. If I had to guess he stood at least six-foot-three with a negative percentage of body fat.
That said, I was heartbroken, not a fucking doormat, and there was no way in hell I was going to let him talk to me like that.
“I’m sorry, but who are you and what exactly is the problem here?” I demanded, my eyes still on fire as I watched the stranger exhale and dare to look fed up with me. What in the actual fuck? His enormous shoulders were slack and his head was tilted back just so. He had the gait of a man who was on his third hour of arguing with his wife, which made no sense at all because he was the one who’d come over to bother me. “Did you really show up just to interrupt my private conversation?” I asked incredulously.
“I’m pretty sure a conversation involves two parties.” He looked down his nose at me. “Not one drunk girl rambling to the voicemail of a guy who’s moved on with his life.”
My jaw dropped at his nerve.
Okay, wow.
I paused to shift gears because clearly, the level of assholery I was dealing with was beyond what I’d originally expected. I was sure his words would’ve crushed me if I weren’t so busy being completely appalled by how brash and mean he was. I guess it was appropriate that he looked like a frickin’ Viking. His dark blonde hair was longer at the top than the sides and the scruff on his jaw screamed man’s man like no other. Judging from that tan, he spent a very good amount of time outdoors, and while he wasn’t flexing, every muscle on his body strained against his white button-down like they desperately wanted out.
I gave myself a second of eyeing the veins on his forearms before I squinted up at him.
“And remind me why my conversation is any of your business?” I questioned. He took no time responding.
“Because I found this nice, quiet spot to sit and think in, and then you came along and started crying everywhere and bumming me out.”
“I’m bumming you out? Who are you?” I demanded just as the light shifted an inch and I realized exactly who the hell he was.
Oh.
Ohhh, I nodded to myself as I took in the asshole for a second time. This guy. I’d seen this guy before. Not just in tabloids and on TV, but also once at Aly’s and my pop-up restaurant in East Hampton – the very place I’d quit working at for Mike.
But that was a whole other story.
Right. Got it. No wonder you look like that, I thought. I mean most of Emmett’s friends were handsome and put-together but this guy was something else. The degree to which his body was built only made sense for world-class athletes, and that was exactly what he was.
An insanely famous, entitled and cocky star athlete.
“You know what – ” I held a hand up. “You don’t have to answer that because I actually know exactly who you are, and now I think I understand why you’re so comfortable being this rude.”
“Is that right. And who is it that you think I am?” he asked, amusement already curling his lips like he expected me to somehow get this wrong. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“You’re Drew Maddox,” I said bluntly. “You play for the New York Empires. You’re on the cover of everything. You’re very, very famous, which is why you have very little empathy for normal people with normal problems.”
“Ah.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded in a way that was deliberately patronizing. “Very nice. You know my name, what I do and you can identify my face on a magazine. Beyond that though, I can promise you don’t actually know anything about me. In fact,” he paused for effect, “I know a lot more about you than you know about me.”
I laughed right in his face.
“That’s hard to believe considering you don’t even know my name.”
“Come on now.” He broke into a grin that I would’ve found fucking irresistible if I didn’t know he was seconds from roasting me. “I don’t need to know your name to know that you’re newly single, you hate it, and you really, really miss Mike. Looking at your matching coffee mugs makes you sad. You want to be called ‘wifey’ again. You can’t sleep without him at night, you bought his bullshit line about getting back together, and right now, you’re in desperate, desperate fucking need of a rebound,” he said, looking pleased with himself as I stood there silent, fuming. A few seconds of silence passed as he arched an eyebrow and waited for my response. “So do I get a gold star now or what?”
All I could do was stare at him, so speechless and angry that I didn’t even notice anyone coming up to us till I heard an almost comically sultry voice beside me.
“I’m sorry, but do either of you have a light?”
I turned and blushed immediately since I found myself staring straight into a pair of breasts – absolutely huge, barely covered breasts. They were stuffed into a painted-on dress worn by a statuesque blonde who was already tall without those six-inch heels.
“I, uh… don’t have a light. Sorry,” I said, forcing my eyes off of her cleavage and looking up to find her already eyeing Drew – assuming she was ever even looking at me.
“And you, Mr. Maddox?”
Only now did he turn from me to her, taking his time to reply.
“I don’t smoke,” he finally said, wearing a knowing look that said I know why you’re actually here.
“Mmm, well.” Her cleavage plunged as she gave a cutesy shrug. “You could have a lighter on you for other reasons, no?”
“Sorry. Not a pyromaniac either.”
His voice was low and teasing, and it prompted the woman to giggle so sharply that I’m pretty sure the sound alone was what alerted the rest of the guests to our presence. Because suddenly, they were trickling over to our previously undiscovered side of the deck, and suddenly, I looked like an awkward, clingy, severely underdressed third wheel. Clearly, these two were flirting and clearly, our new audience was wondering what the hell kind of business the girl in the ratty leggings had standing between Drew Fucking Maddox and Miss Jaw-Dropping Cleavage.
“Excuse me,” I said hastily, thanking God for the beat-up Nikes on my feet because they allowed me to practically fly away from that whole situation. Now, all I needed was to get off the deck to avoid all these other eyes watching me and, in all likelihood, wondering why I thought I could win the attention of Drew Maddox in the first place.
It’s not what you think. I’m not a thirsty fangirl, and I wasn’t trying to flirt, I wanted to explain to them, though I was quickly distracted by the sound of footsteps coming behind me.
“Hey. Wifey.”
Seriously?
Without even hearing that low voice, I knew it was Drew because everyone’s eyes had swiftly moved from me to something tall past my shoulder. I felt my cheeks heat up from all the unwanted attention as I spun around.
“What?” I hissed under my breath, further annoyed by the way Drew’s smile broadened when he saw my pissed off face again. “What do you want? Why follow me when that woman is much more interested in talking to you than I am?”
“Because you and I were in the middle of a conversation and I don’t leave things unfinished.”
“Well, I know you’re probably used to getting your way, but some things are meant to end before you’re ready,” I snapped before turning back around to head inside.
“Right. This coming from the girl who refuses to get o
ver her ex.”
I stopped in place, officially at my wit’s end as I spun back around and shot daggers at Drew. I wanted so badly to fire back with some scathing remark, but in the past twenty minutes – between calling Mike and meeting Drew – I’d been on such a roller coaster of emotions that I was too mentally tired to get smart. I was just going to hit the bastard with the truth.
“Okay, you know what?”
My pulse spiked as I grabbed Drew’s thick forearm to pull him out of earshot of the others. Shit. Holy God. Hot damn. I did my best to get past how absurdly hard he felt in my grip, and to ignore the look of sheer pleasure on his face as I led him to the wall next to the door.
“Fuck, baby. Get this part for me too,” he groaned, wrapping his hand around mine and moving my grip on his forearm.
“What are you doing?” I hissed as he laughed.
“Sore from practice. I need a massage.”
I tossed his arm away like a hot potato, my toes curling in my shoes as I fought to get rid of the heat that had just flooded my body. Stop replaying the sound of his groan, I begged myself while trying to regroup.
“Okay, just… quiet for a second, and listen.” I caught my breath, forcing myself to look unflustered as I stared up at Drew. “I was with my ex for nine years. I met him when I was thirteen years old, and we were best friends for seven years before we even started dating. We grew up together, survived bullshit together, got strong together. We basically made each other, okay? Who I am now, everything he is today – that’s all a credit to us being devoted to each other for the past sixteen years, because we weren’t just boyfriend-girlfriend, we were a partnership for most of our lives, and yet you think it would be natural for me to just nod along with this sudden breakup and carry on without asking any questions?” I cocked my head at Drew, challenging him to say something. I was really banking on shutting him up with this, but I should have known he’d be much more of a challenge.
“You have all these questions because he didn’t care to give you the explanations even I think you deserved, which makes him an asshole who doesn’t deserve your groveling,” Drew countered so matter-of-factly that my hands actually balled into fists. “You trusted someone. You shouldn’t have. You learned your lesson, now move on.”
