“Let me ask you one more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“Were you going to marry her? Is this big ass house and all the upgrades you’ve made over the last year to impress her?”
“Where are you getting this shit?” He begs. “I bought this house hoping that one day you and I would fill it up with kids.”
“Tiger told me about you and Miranda. Evidently the entire team thought there might be a wedding.”
The tears are too heavy to hold back, and they fall straight down the middle of my jaws.
“Baby, you know me. You’d know if I was getting married to someone. I would have told you.”
“Were you thinking about marrying her? I mean, was it even a fleeting thought?”
“No. Never. I told you it was very casual between us.”
I maneuver out of his grasp and look at him with a fresh new set of eyes.
Between us.
Just the reference sickens me.
“You’re playing games.”
“I’m playing games? You knew my feelings for you were changing way before you went out with Samuels, yet you did anyway, so who’s the one really playing games with someone’s heart? You’re living with me, but you go on a date with my fucking teammate? Real nice.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’tfuckingyou then.”
I make sure to throw back the word to him in the ugly way he said it to me this morning.
“FUCK!” he roars, and I gasp as all the dishes and some damn good lobster mac and cheese all go flying to the floor. He’s out of control.
A bit of the cheese sauce lands on my cheek and I leisurely lick it off my face, grab by cane, and head for the steps.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him calmly. “And just so you know, the house manager doesn’t do manual labor. Clean all this shit up yourself.”
Thirty-Two
MIA
Doyou remember how it felt when you got into an argument with your best friend in elementary school and now you’re forced to dodge her everywhere you go. The swings. The water fountain. Gym class. It was a nightmare then, and nothing’s changed now.
You would think on a huge training campus like this I wouldn’t have to see Rush, but it doesn’t matter, I feel him everywhere. We’ve eaten lunch, worked on therapies, done yoga moves and even had sex all over this facility.
The only reprieve I have is that we have no more one-on-one sessions together because he doesn’t need any rehab right now. He works solely with the strength trainers most days outside of regular practice.
At lunch, I decide to eat at my desk and scour the web for a new apartment. It’s obvious that the two of us are bringing out the worst in each other right now, and if I have any hopes of salvaging a friendship with him, I’m going to need to leave.
Although I’m not completely caught up on everything, at this point I should be able to afford something half-decent. I’m not looking for much, because one perk about this job is that I’ll be on the road with the team during away games and staying in very nice hotels.
The one thing I don’t look forward to is telling Rush about the move, though. He went through all this effort and expense to move me in, and now I’m leaving. He won’t be happy about it my decision, but in the long run things will return to their natural order if I leave. He should be with a woman who has her shit together like Miranda, not the needy girl who’s been clinging to him since college.
When I arrive back to the house after work, I notice there’s a letter for me on the kitchen island that Rush has written. I’m not sure if he left it sometime this morning or if he returned home before me, but there it is. Short and sweet. Written in classic Rush Bacchetti chicken scratch.
Bird,
I packed a bag and am staying at the Marquis in New York City to give us some space. I know you’re probably thinking about leaving the house, but don’t. I don’t want you to go. This is your home now too, and I need you to manage it. Don’t bail on me now. And for your information, couples have arguments and so do friends. Everything is not always going to be a perfectly arranged love song.
