He lowers the banana slowly with one of his large hands and shoots me a devilish smirk that causes men to obey and women to say yes to anything he asks. “Can’t help it. I’m alone with a beautiful woman in my suite. I’m not used to being turned down.”
My skin flushes as I shake my head. “Be professional.”
He chuckles, deep and darkly as his shoulders shakes and hissmile widens. Then he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and releases it slowly through pursed lips.
Suddenly, it dawns on me that the reason he's been stalling all night is that whatever he needs to tell me is eating him up inside. He'd been clear about not feeling comfortable sharing this with even the largest, most secure public relations firms yet here he is, about to unload it all on little, unknown, me.
My stomach churns violently despite it being empty as I try to think what it could be but before I can register what’s happening, I’m vomiting all over the pristine, white couch.
Chapter 3: Mae
"What the hell! Are you ok?" Dexter shouts, jumping up and running to the kitchen to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess.
"I'm fine, I'm fine,” I try to reassure him as I look down at the couch cushion where I've just spewed a bit of the banana and a load of vodka. Thankfully, none of it seems to have landed on me or him but it reeks of alcohol.
He returns with a handful of paper towels that I immediately use to clean-up the mess. After tossing them in the kitchen trash bin, I rinse out my mouth and gulp down a full glass of water before returning to the living room area.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize, moving to a different section of the couch, further away from the vomit stain and him.
Dexter laughs. "I'm sure this couch has seen much worse than a little hangover vomit."
"Gross."
He smiles, taking me in and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I shared a bit of my story last night, just the low lights, of course, but there’s more to me than the broken young girl who grew up in a wealthy family that’s only language was the language of control, order, and appearances and then married a guy just like that. It hasn’t been all bad. There’ve been momentsof love, joy and fun along the way, even if they’ve been marred by tragedy and fear, too.
“You really haven’t let loose in a while, huh?” he asks, not with pity like most people look at me with when they know what I’ve been through but with admiration.
I shake my head. “Four year old daughter and trying to survive.” I take another long sip of my water bottle and then place it on the table.
“Well, let’s see if we can turn that around so you can get back to living, yeah?”
I nod my head because that sounds good to me.
“So, about the reason that I need your help...” his voice seems lighter this time, less guarded than before. Maybe my vomiting all over the couch helped lighten the mood. “Three years ago, I went a little crazy with women.”
“Three years ago? You say that like you still aren't?” I tease playfully.
He stops and chuckles deeply. “You're right, I still am, but I’m more… careful now.”
I nod. “I won’t interrupt anymore. Go on.”
“I met a woman while traveling internationally for an event with the team. She was a beautiful Brit—long brown hair, creamy skin, and big, round brown eyes. We had sex the first night we met. We weren't careful, but I never really was back then. I never kept in touch with the women after I slept with them. I’m not exactly proud, but I’m also not ashamed to say it’s probably been in the thousands for me. It's always been purely physical therefore there'd been no desire to keep in touch but something about this one had been different. Mara was… I don’t know, more than just a fun night.
“Against my typical style, I went back to London and saw her, intentionally this time. We spent an extended weekend togetherand I got to know her—the first woman that I’ve ever done that with. She was smart, a professor at Oxford, and intelligent. When I left, we decided to keep things open-ended. The feelings I had for her freaked me out, and I had just been picked up by the Miami Waves. I didn’t want to bring her into the madness that comes with American football, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to be tied down anyhow. Women were throwing themselves at me given my newfound status on the team, and I was more than accepting of it. Mara was understanding of the position that I was in and my inability to commit, and didn't reach out even though I could tell she wanted more."
He takes a deep breath again and I can tell this isn’t going to end well, especially with the way he’s referring to her in the past. “Two months after our long weekend together, I received a call from a blocked number. It was Mara and she was calling to tell me that she was pregnant, and the baby was mine.”
I draw in a breath of realization. “Shit.”
He shoots me a lopsided smile. “I’m not going to lie; I was pissed at first. Not at her, but at myself. Here I was, finally making it into the NFL and I got a girl I wasn't in a relationship with, pregnant. I flew to see her, begged her to keep it quiet, offered to pay her off—anything. She was pissed that I’d offer that but understood. She swore she wasn’t like any of the other women I was with and cared for me and the child. I realized she was right. Though it was hard to trust her words, I felt differently about her too.”
He sighs, “Braxton came into the world perfect. Born on October 13th, 2021. I flew to see her and him only once not to risk the media catching on to my new status as a father. I wanted to protect them both from my rising star. That year we were headed for the Super Bowl again, and every move I made was watched and reported on very closely by the media.”
He swallows, and I can see beads of sweat form on his brow as he works through the ending of the story. “I hadn’t seen her sincethat one visit when Braxton was first born. With my manager's support, I continued to send money through a wire so it couldn’t be traced back to me. I gave them more than they needed, set him up with the best daycare in London if she wanted to return to teaching but she never did. She loved being a mom to him and from what I heard, she was a damn good one, too. Unfortunately, three months ago, I received a call that she was killed in a tragic car accident in London.”
“Dammit…” I let out a soft breath.
He nods. “The only other people who know are my manager, whom I trust implicitly—he’s been with me since I was a rookie—and Mara’s sister, who also lives in London. Braxton's living with her now.”
