“A couple of more questions. You were traded from the Raptors to the Pumas after several back-to-back losing seasons. The Raptors won the championship the next year without you, and then three years later as a Puma, you guys had a three-peat. Why do you think the Raptors won after you left?”
“Chemistry. We had a lot of good, raw talent, but we also had a lot of hotheads and people jockeying for status. We were young and hungry, but we lacked maturity. Trading Dru Stovall, Rome Griffin, Blair Banks, and me was the best decision. We all went on to have stellar careers, to get at least one ring, and we all had the right chemistry with our new teams. I can’t be mad.”
“But you were at the time. I recall you saying, ‘Management wouldn’t know a basketball from their asshole. Getting rid of all-star players don’t win championships.’”
Pointing at her, I replied, “That right there was my immaturity speaking. We all were mad; I was just the most vocal about it. But you don’t hear any of us complaining about that anymore. We grew, and we learned to respect the logic behind that business decision.”
“I’m sure it helped that you went on to have an amazing career and three back-to-back championships seasons.”
“Definitely helped.”
“And what contributed to the Pumas becoming a winning team later?”
“We were dedicated. We had passion, patience, and camaraderie.”
“And you were hungry.”
“Definitely. Working with my new team to strengthen our foundation as not just a team, but a family unit, took us a long way. We had the skills; we just needed the understanding and the cohesion to become a championship team.”
She dug into her baked potato and chewed a little before she moaned. “Dawson Castle’s is the best restaurant in the city, hands down.”
I chuckled. “Some women might argue with you on that.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I love Lady Chablis as much as the rest of them, but there’s something about a good steak that turns me on.”
I kept my gaze on my plate as I cut my steak. I was not getting pulled into that salacious comment. Chanel knew I was married. When I didn’t respond, she stopped chewing, popped her eyes open, and stared.
“I’m so sorry. That was unprofessional. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment.” She apologized, dabbing her lips with the linen napkin. But I suspected she knew exactly what she was doing.
“You’re all good. Enjoy your meal, baby girl. There’s nothing wrong with a woman loving to eat.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled. “I once read that your wife loves to throw down in the kitchen. Do you two cook together, or does she do all the cooking?”
I tensed inside but kept my face impassive. “She cooks. But we also dine out a lot. Not that I can’t cook, because I can throw down in the kitchen too,” I stated, trying to steer the subject away from my marriage.
“Mm . . .” She chewed the rest of her steak, nodded thoughtfully as if she were engrossed in her meal, and then spoke again. “There are some rumors I would like to confirm.”
I cleared my throat and took a long sip of my beer. It felt like we were playing chess. I just wasn’t sure of her strategy.
“You’ve been married to your wife for eleven years and been in a relationship with her for eighteen. I know you two have been together since you were sixteen. What’s the key to a successful marriage?”
“Communication, trust, and transparency. Also being okay with who you are. Feeling comfortable enough around that person to show all sides of yourself, including the ugly parts. But then you have to get back into the right space and own your shit rather than make others carry that baggage.”
“What would you say about allegations that your wife has been cheating?”
“People gon’ always hate. I don’t get caught up in rumors. Muffin and I are a cohesive unit.”
“Is that why you filed for divorce?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve always been a straight shooter, Ashton. This doesn’t have to go on the record, but I need to know what type of picture I’m painting here.”
“You’re painting one about my career and that’s it. My marriage has nothing to do with this.”
“Except I have a copy of the divorce petition being filed,” she professed and slid a piece of paper toward me.
What the fuck? No one was supposed to know about that. Not my family, my best friend, my business partners, or my team. The only people who knew was Coach and Amélie. I paid a high price and pulled some strings to have those records sealed. Which one of them leaked the news? It couldn’t have been Muffin, because she was always about appearances, and she was the one who didn’t want anyone to know just yet. She had just signed another two-year contract forBalla Wives, a reality show about the wives of professional baseball, basketball, and football athletes.
