by L. M. Carr
“C’mon, Coach!” I hear voices whine, calling him. We both turn to look at his players, but my eyes widen and my heart skips when I see Adam standing there, with a cup of coffee in one hand and holding Maddie’s hand with the other. He glares at us. He looks so irritated. His tall, lean body is stiff and angry. Madison is by his side, tugging at their clasped hands.
“Come meet the kids. You probably know most of them,” Shane says.
“Uh…sure, but just for a minute.” I smile hesitantly and follow him.
“Hey, guys. Say hi to Miss Delaney.”
I smile. “Hi guys. How’s it going?”
“Good.” “Fine.” “Hi.” Their words echoed in response as they all hover around Brady who loves all the attention.
Madison runs up to me and wraps her arms around my waist. “Hi, Miss Delaney!” I return the hug and smile down at her. “Hi, Maddie! What are you doing here?” I ask.
“My brother has football practice,” she answers. “I’m here with my dad.” She turns to face her father who is still glaring, his strong jaw now ticking. What the hell is his problem? He’s acting like a complete lunatic. First he fucks me senseless, then he doesn’t talk to me all week and now he’s mad at me?
“Come on, Madison. Let’s go,” Adam calls to her sternly, his eyes fixed on me.
“But Dad, you said I could play on the jungle gym!” she protests, her big eyes revealing her disappointment.
“No. We need to go. We’ll come back later for your brother.”
“Daddy, you didn’t even say hi to my teacher.” Madison pulls on my hand dragging me toward her father.
“Hi,” I squeak and offer a smile.
With his jaw still ticking, Adams greets me stiffly. “Miss Delaney.” His dark eyes bore into mine. I’m not sure how to read him. He’s obviously upset with me about something.
Shane walks over to us and says that he’s got to get back to practice, but that he’ll call me so we can make some plans.
Madison begs her father to let her go play in the playground for a few minutes, and he reluctantly agrees. We stand there awkwardly watching his daughter run off, neither one of us says a word, but our eyes speak volumes.
“So, you’re going to go out with him?” Adam stares straight ahead watching Luke practice. Anyone looking at us would never suspect his question.
“What?” I turn to face him, confused by his question. He has the most beautiful profile and his jaw only covered by a light scruff. He looks good enough to eat.
“Isn’t he the guy from the pizza place? You’re going to go out with him?”
My eyes roll involuntarily and quite dramatically. What business of his is it what I do and whom I do it with? Why the hell does he care what I do?
“You’re with him?” He continues badgering me with stupid questions.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not with him. I’m not with anybody,” I answer, swallowing back my emotion.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, finally turning to face me with serious eyes. His phone buzzes signaling an incoming text or email.
I turn to face him and meet his angry glare. “Just what I said. I’m not with anybody.”
“You’re with me!” His words come out through gritted teeth. He reaches into his pocket and responds quickly with a text. I know I shouldn’t care, but I’m curious so I glance at his phone and see the name Nora. Nora? How can he say I’m with him when he’s clearly with her? Maybe they’re lovers? Irrational jealousy surges through me at the thought.
I laugh out loud bitterly. “The hell I am! You never even texted me! You barely look at me when I see you at school!” I’m pissed now so the words fly out of my mouth. “So no, my friend, I am not with you!” I know I’m a little naïve when it comes to drama-free sex, but I never expected Adam to think that I was with him. Does that mean that we’re exclusive? Are redhead and blonde out of the picture? What about “Nora”? I guess deep down inside, I “hoped” that we could be exclusive, but a man like Adam doesn’t exactly have monogamy written on him.
“This is how we said it had to be. Keep things on the DL?” he retorts, answering between gritted teeth.
“Keeping things on the DL and treating me like a cheap whore are two different things!” My emotions are beginning to surface and I know I need to get out of here.
Adam’s body whips around completely facing me. “What are you talking about? I didn’t treat you like a whore! I would never do that!” He adds, “Not to you.” His hand moves as if he’s reaching for my face and either realization of where we are or he just changes his mind, because he pulls back and lowers his hand.
Oh, man! I can feel the tears start to surface, filling my eyes.
“Whatever. I have to go.” I turn to leave, but his hand reaches out and grasps my forearm. “Mia, I would NEVER do that to you,” he whispers.
“Yeah, well, too late. You already did.” I shrug out of his grasp. I’m so angry with myself for getting involved with him. Regret surfaces immediately. He has heartbreak written all over him. I don’t think…no, I know, my heart can’t handle that. The tender stitches mending my heart are already stretched thin. I should walk away. I should just leave, but I don’t. He’s like a magnet holding me in place.
Shane and Luke walk over to us as practice ends. “Dad, did you see that catch I made?” The little boy who is a carbon copy of his father looks up hopefully.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t see it. I’ll get the next one.” Adam reaches down and tousles the young boy’s short hair. Luke asks if he can join his sister and runs off to play.
“Hey, you okay?” Shane asks when he notices my flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. There was something in my eye, but I got rid of it. I think it’s out.” I smile and flick my glance quickly at Adam. I swear he just growled deep within his chest.
“Let me drive you home,” Shane offers kindly. “We could grab a bite to eat or go through a drive thru since you have Brady and hang out at the lake. It’s been forever since I’ve been there. Whatever you want—it’s up to you.” Shane’s blue eyes beg for any sign that I’ll accept his offer. I wish I could, but I can’t.
Although I don’t look at Adam, I could feel the holes he’s drilling in my head like he’s about to explode at any moment.
“That’s sweet, Shane. But I’m good, really. Thank you for the offer.” I step forward and give him a quick hug before he turns and walks away. Yes, I’m being a jerk! But right now, I’m mad and Adam deserves it.
Maddie and Luke bring Brady over to us. “Dad, can we get a dog? Please? C’mon, Dad, please? You said maybe when we turn seven and our birthday is coming up…” They gang up on their father who just rolls his eyes with mock amusement and says no.
I try to appease them by telling them that they’re more than welcome to play with Brady if I see them again at the park. Everybody seems happy—crisis averted.
I say goodbye to Luke and Maddie quickly while avoiding their father’s gaze. I walk with Brady towards the park exit where the sun is setting, painting a gorgeous pink and purple sky. I look back to see Adam staring at me while his kids climb into the back of his black Escalade.
***
I KNOW THAT I won’t see him again until Friday because the Wicked Witch picks up his children every Thursday to take the girls to dance class. The day goes by rather quickly as I get ready to greet a roomful of parents interested in their children’s progress and to meet the teacher. Adam is the only parent who does not show up for “Meet the Teacher” night. Why should he, really? He already knows all he needs to know about me. He knows the teacher better than anyone, even better than he should. What really pisses me off is that even though I know he has said he works late on Thursdays, his children and their education should be priority—at least, it would be for me.
After conferences wrap up for the night, Shelby and I head out for a quick dinner and drinks. I glance down at my phone when I get a
text alert. Sure enough, he decides to text me now after I haven’t heard from him all week.
AL: Can I see you tonight?
Me: Hello to you too.
AL: Sorry. Hi.
AL: So can I see you?
Me: I don’t think so. I’m not going to be home for a while.
AL: Why?
Me: Because I’m not home.
AL: Where are you?
Me: At a bar...with Shelby.
AL: Who’s Shelby?
Me: Your son’s teacher.
AL: Ohhh, Mrs. Matthews. Got it. Anyone else there?
For wanting to keep things casual, he sure does have some jealousy issues. I’m going to have fun with this.
Me: Yes. Tons of people.
AL: Who? It better not be Shane.
Me: Wouldn’t you like to know!
AL: Not funny! Tell me where you are. I’ll meet you.
Me: No.
Shelby asks about the “take that” grin I’m wearing as I text, but I just shake my head and laugh.
AL: You’re wasting time!
Me: Excuse me? I’m wasting your time? Sorry about that!
AL: No. You’re wasting time that I could be buried deep in you making you scream my name as you come.
I feel moisture pool between my legs with his simple promise.
Me: Tempting as that is, I’m going to have to pass.
AL: Pass? Are you serious?
Me: Very.
AL: Are you upset with me?
Me: Nope. Not at all.
AL: Why won’t you see me then?
Me: Because I’m out to dinner, trying to enjoy my company.
AL: You don’t want to enjoy my company?
Me: Oh, I’ve enjoyed your company all right.
Me: Food’s here. Gotta go. Night.
Chapter Eighteen
OUR TREK UP TO Gillette Stadium in Foxboro to watch our beloved Patriots play is always a good time. Days like this are when I miss my dad the most. He was a lover of the game of football, but he was a diehard New England Patriots fan. I remember Sunday afternoons sitting on the flowered couch with my dad and Josh, each of us wearing our Pats gear from head to toe. It’s where I learned the game and fell in love with it. While some girls loved football for the tight pants and cute players, I was all about the game. The tight pants and cute players were definitely an added bonus, though.
We didn’t have much money growing up so when my dad won money from a two dollar scratch off ticket, he purchased Patriots season tickets for our family of four. Instead of watching the game on the couch, we sat in the nosebleed section and cheered. Since Josh moved away to Texas, I get to go to all the home games. If the team makes the playoffs, he flies up and we go together. It’s a win-win for everyone.
A few years ago, when the team moved to a new stadium, I was able to upgrade our tickets to the 50 yard line. Needless to say, I made a lot more friends with that. But it’s always the same group of close friends: Pete, Shelby, Mike, Shane and me. Pete and Shane sometimes had to compete for the fourth ticket.
Since Adam has his kids this weekend, we text back and forth sharing little details, building anticipation for the next time we see each other. To say he wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t give in and let him come over Thursday was an understatement. Adam Lawson isn’t a man who usually asks for things. Women are probably wrapped up nicely with a pretty bow, willingly offering themselves to be taken. I have been alone for a long time, counting on no one but myself. I’m not about to fall to the ground and worship at his feet. I might fall to my knees on the kitchen floor and worship something else, but you get my point.
The time I see him at work is brief. A spoken, cordial “hello” can be heard, but silent, lustful promises are made with our eyes. We text a lot—sometimes it’s during the day and I have to remind him that I’m supposed to be teaching. Other times it’s late at night when I’m relaxing with Brady.
I text him from the game, telling him where my seats are, and suggest that he should look for me on TV. My eyes blink in confusion when one of his texts included a selfie of him and the kids watching the Pats game on his gigantic, plasma TV. I was thrilled that he did that; he did what he always said he wouldn’t. He combined his kids and his flavor of the month which happens to be me at the moment. Granted it was only in a picture, but still, it made me smile, causing my heart to get all warm and fuzzy. Stupid heart.
His response floored me because not only did the picture stir my heart, but his words that accompanied the text brought tears to my eyes. “I would find you anywhere. You stand above the rest.”
Pete harasses me about texting my lover boy during the game, insisting that I put my phone away or he’d take it and hide in down his pants. Ewww, that’s just gross, but knowing Pete, he wouldn’t be turned on by my hands in his pants. I smile at Pete as I do what he’s asked, but then a probing feeling comes over me as I think about his words—”You stand above the rest.” The rest? What does that mean? The rest of his women? The rest of the crowd? I’ll have to sneak up to the bathroom during half time so I can ask Adam what he meant.
It’s pretty late by the time I arrive home that night and I’m exhausted. Tailgating, beer, and cheering make for a grueling day. After I walk over to get Brady back, I thank Mrs. Longo for keeping him for the day. I hand her an envelope with cash, which she refuses, as usual. I make a mental note to bake her some cheesecake brownies this week instead. Or maybe I’ll pick up one of the newest erotica novels for her. She often mentions that although Mr. Longo is well beyond his years, he’s still a young man at heart. I wouldn’t want to give the ol’ boy a heart attack or anything.
After showering quickly, I climb into bed and plug my phone in to charge on my nightstand. The battery died before I had a chance to text Adam back and ask him what he meant. Unfortunately, no one had a car charger. How we managed to travel out of state without a phone charger is beside me. Not that it mattered really since I pretty much passed out in the back seat next to Pete. The combination of drinking and not sleeping well is a lethal combination for me. This girl needs a solid eight hours of rest.
Holy shit! 14 text messages, 8 missed calls, and 4 voicemail messages. With the exception of one call from Mrs. Longo, one text from Shane and two from my brother, every other message was from Adam. Wow! I’m not really sure how I feel at the moment. I read all his text messages which varied from casual, “Your boy, Brady, is kicking some ass!” to “Where’d you go?” to pissed off “Why aren’t you answering me???” His voicemails were of the same tone: casual to concerned to angry. He said he was about to call around to get Shelby’s number just to make sure that I was alright.
The time on my digital clock reads 12:46. It’s really too late to call him so I decided to send a quick text letting him know that I’m home and that we’ll talk tomorrow. Within two seconds of hitting “send,” my phone rings and the name AL appears on the screen. I answer immediately, wondering why he didn’t just text me back. I wasn’t prepared for his response.
“Mia! My God! What the hell happened to you?” His voice booms through the phone, causing me to wince and pull the phone away from my ear. It takes me a few seconds to respond. “Are you alright?” He fires away with another question.
“Hi,” I stammer. “Adam, I’m fine,” I add quickly, yawning loudly into the phone.
I can hear him exhale loudly on the other end of the phone. I can only imagine how his body must look, tense and hard.
“Are you okay?” I ask because I’m really puzzled by his reaction.
“I’m fine. Now.” I can hear a sense relief in his words as he exhales loudly.
What I thought was going to be a quick conversation of hushed “good nights” turns into a detailed play by play of my day at the game and how my phone died. With each word of my explanation, I can tell that I’ve put his mind at ease, but I’m left wondering why he was so upset. What’s the big deal anyway?
***
IT’S ONLY MOND
AY and I’m already longing for the weekend. I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep. Adam’s early morning texts were bright and cheery, wishing me a good day or telling me that he can’t wait to see me again.
After lunch I ask my class to write a journal entry about something fun they did over the weekend. When I read Madison’s, I literally have to sit back and take a breather. With her neat, primary handwriting, she writes about going to the movies and out for pizza with Daddy, Luke, Sophie and Gina. Well, isn’t that nice? What a happy fucking little family outing. Adam did tell me that he was taking the kids to a movie, but he never mentioned having extra company. What’s the deal here? Am I being completely naïve in thinking that I’m the only person he’s sleeping with? A man like Adam doesn’t do monogamy, I’m sure. I know this and yet it’s so hard to walk away. It’s like taking a hit of a toxic drug and getting addicted after the first time. I know it’s bad for me, but I want more. I think I might need Adam-rehab.
By the end of the day, I’m anxious and antsy. I probably shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee. I watch as Adam holds the door for Gina, ushering her into the building. My green-eyed monster rears her ugly face, watching them talk together as they wait at the end of line. Adam listens intently to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes always find mine.
When Gina signs her name, she looks at me with disdain, and then steps aside so Adam can sign for his children. She waits for him to finish.
“Good afternoon, Miss Delaney,” he says and smiles.
“Mr. Lawson,” I answer plainly, causing his brow to furrow.
“All set?” Gina chimes in, stepping closer to his side.
I want to jump over the table and bitch slap her.
“Gina, you know Miss Delaney, don’t you?” Adam asks, diverting his attention between the two of us.
Blue eyes glare at me. “Yes, I know exactly who she is.”
“I thought you might since you’re both from here,” he adds.
“We went to school together.” Gina’s voice feigns interest, but I know better. I wonder if she’s trying to figure out how he knows that I’m from here. Where your daughter’s teacher is from isn’t exactly common knowledge, now, is it? Or is she trying to dodge the inevitable bullet that will show him what a bitch she is by downplaying our relationship.
