“Okay, so I get you don’t want to talk about it, but we’re your friends and that was scary. Are you gonna tell us how you’re really doing?”
Lennon chimes in, “Yeah, you went from euphoric bride back from her honeymoon to emergency surgery. We’re allowed to be concerned.”
“No, I know. I’m sorry, guys. Not trying to be an asshole here. Just not really wanting to relive it.” I hold up one hand in surrender before they come at me. “But, yeah. It was fucking scary. Almost dying aside, I don’t really remember any of it. And to be honest, it’s kind of a twisted relief. Julian doesn’t want kids.”
“Like, ever?” Tatum sets her drink down before she takes a sip.
Lennon pauses her glass on the way to her lips.
I pinch my lips in a tight straight line and shake my head. “Can you blame him with parents like his? Doesn’t exactly scream Hallmark moment.”
“Fair. But we study the shit, Ever. We’re not our families.”
“What she said,” Lennon adds.
I shrug and say nothing. I lift my glass in hopes of distracting them and permanently changing the subject. “Cheers to new opportunities and the Sun Rays’ newest fans.”
They clink their glasses to mine and smile, showing their unnaturally white teeth, telling me they’re on board with my attempt. We all laugh, take a healthy sip of the bubbles in our glasses and talk shop for the next hour as we watch the sun set.
Chapter 36
Julian
Ever has been nonstop since the incident. We barely see each other unless we film content together. Yes, we’re married and obviously live together, but it’s different. Tonight we’re attending the Sun Rays’ Mind and Body Benefit, a charity event to raise money for mental health programs and counseling for athletes of all ages. Allie and Ashley are attending too as All Star Contributors. If a working date is all I can get, I’ll take it, but I wish I could get my wife back. I had her for five weeks, then the incident, and she’s tucked it all away—like the “good military daughter” as she’s called it.
Guilt still plagues me for feeling relieved. Not relieved that she lost the baby, obviously. Relieved that we’re not about to be parents. That she tucks and runs when life gets tough makes my point for me. Maybe we’re not all destined to become our parents, but it sure seems likemost of us do to some extent without even trying. That I’ve worked most of my life to avoid becoming mine might be my only saving grace. I can’t guarantee my offspring would fare the same. Not making little carbon copies of my parents would become my sole purpose in life if I had kids. If I’m being honest, though, my heart aches a little at the thought of never having a couple of mini chestnut-haired, stormy-eyed little girls just like her. After the accident, I couldn’t stop thinking about that—the possibility of what could’ve been.
Watching her fasten diamond studs to her ears in the reflection, my mouth goes dry. She’s always beautiful. Every. Damn. Day. Tonight, in a formal gown of dove-gray suede that sets off her eyes and hugs every curve and sparkling jeweled stilettos on her feet, she’s breathtaking. My body reacts involuntarily. It’s been four weeks—doctor-ordered abstinence. Maybe that’s why she’s so distant, but something tells me it’s more than that. I catch her eye in the mirror, and she smiles, dimples on full display, and my heart flips. I’m so goddamn lucky. She’s my proof that somebody believes I deserve to be happy.
Turning to me, she plays with the collar of my shirt. “No tie?” One tawny eyebrow quirks as the corner of her mouth lifts.
“Ashley said it’s black tie optional. I’moptingout.” I chuckle at my own joke as she rolls her eyes, but I see the heat under the gesture. “You don’t approve?”
“Husband, you could walk in there in sweats and still be the hottest guy in the room.” She swipes invisible dust off my shoulders and pecks a kiss on my lips, transferring glossy color from hers to mine.
I press mine together and swipe my tongue between them. “Mmm, cherry. But I’m not sure it’s my color.”
Giggling, she drags her thumb across my lips to remove the stain.
When I suck her thumb into my mouth, her eyes go dark, hungry, but just as quickly shutter and go blank. “C’mon. The car will be waiting.” Her smile is sweet, her hand on my cheek soft, caressing.
If I didn’t know her so well, I’d think everything is fine. But I do and she’s compartmentalizing—like the pro she is. It puts a pit in my stomach that I tuck away because we have an event and people expect us to show up smiling. Turning, I place my palm on the exposed skin of her lower back and guide her out the front door.
As charity events go, this one didn’t suck. More casual than most formal events, I actually enjoyed myself. Ever’s new boss is so cool, such a nice guy, and seems to genuinely care about the overall health of his players. I’m impressed with the organization—and him. I’m thrilled she’s a part of the program. I hope it snaps her out of her funk. And I think it will. Head coach, Jason Ross, seems genuinely interested in her new endeavor, said that his assistant discovered her (them) on socials and thought their program would align perfectly with his plans for the ongoing mental health support of his athletes. He spent most of his free time this evening with our group, picking our brains—all of us—about ASH, the McKay Method and our lives in general. Truly one of the best nights I’ve spent “working” in . . . maybe ever.
Now back at home, Ever is back in the mirror, removing her earrings and slipping off her high heels. The heavy sigh that escapes her lips as her bare foot hits the fuzzy rug beneath her has me pausing my own stripping down routine. “Hey, pretty girl, how ya doin’?”
“Good, Julie. Just tired.” She doesn’t meet my eyes in the mirror or turn to face me when she answers. “Gonna go wash off my makeup.” She briefly smiles at me as she moves past me into the bathroom,closing the door behind her. Within minutes she pads barefooted into the kitchen, sans makeup, wearing one of my T-shirts, and pulls a mug down from the cabinet. “Want some hot tea?”
“No, baby. I’m good. How about a foot massage?” She squints her eyes at me. “You, I mean. You stood in heels all night. Thought maybe . . .”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say no.” She smiles sweetly and proceeds to make herself some tea. With her steaming mug, she shuffles to the couch and settles into the cushions as I’m coming down the short hallway with her favorite lotion. Tucking in next to her, I lift her legs, drape them over my thighs and begin rubbing them. Turning sideways to give me better access, she drapes her elbow along the back of the couch and rests her cheek on her arm, watching me. “Mmm, that feels divine.” Her eyes roll back and drift closed as another moan escapes her lips.
“Tired?”
Her mug of tea is all but forgotten, steaming on a coaster on the edge of the coffee table.
“Yeah, I guess.”
