Anger toward her simmered, which was totally unfair, but my mood was cratering at light speed.
I couldn’t help noticing everything I despised about this place.
Like the artwork above the stone fireplace that was supposedly from an almost-famous artist, and the contemporary chandelier that was quirky bordering on weird with arms popping out of a central piece like spindly tree branches. I’d heard it described as pretty or…exquisite, even, but I thought it looked like a sci-fi creature come to life. Combined with the impersonal modern knickknacks and coffee-table books on German architecture, it was that extra something that made me feel like I lived in a museum.
It was certainly as quiet as one. So quiet, I could hear my heart beat and my achy muscles groan with complaint.
I needed Advil, a hot shower, ice for my knees, and…less silence. Less time to think about what my life would be like without football. I didn’t have a plan and there was a reason for that, but the reason hurt and I just couldn’t freaking cope tonight.
The weight ofbeing—inside and out—hurt.
If I had the energy, I’d drown my sorrows or take some pills. But I didn’t, so I turned on the TV.
Mistake.
“Tonight, the Devils played like they should have all year long,”the former all-pro sitting behind a desk in an Atlanta studio commented.“That touchdown at the final minute was gritty.”
“You say that, but Anderson was open,” an old-time sportscaster piped in.
“Love the guy. He’s had a great career and it would have been nice to see him get one more for the books. However…I don’t blame Kronig for taking a risk.”
“That’s because it paid off.”
Annoying laughter. “That, and if we’re being honest, Anderson wasn’t a reliable option this season, and?—”
My phone buzzed on the coffee table. Alli.
“Congrats on the win.”
“You watched?”
“Of course I did. I always do. Kronig should have thrown it to you. Total bonehead move, if you ask me. And honestly, he just advertised that he’s a jerk by not giving it to you on your last freaking game.”
“I thought the same thing, but it’s the win that counts.”
“Boo. It’s all about the glory!”
I smiled, stupidly pleased that even my ex-wife agreed I’d been robbed. “So how are you and…what’s his name again?”
Alli laughed. “You’re such a dick. I’m good, and so is Liam.”
“Glad to hear it,” I commented.
If I were a nicer guy, I’d have told her that I’d seen the pics of them from the Golden Globes in their glamorous evening wear on the red carpet. I didn’t, though. I wasn’t jealous, I swear. I was glad Alli had moved on and that she seemed to be genuinely happy. I just wished I didn’t get dragged into a media event every time the new couple appeared in public together.
“Mega superstar Liam Sutcliffe and Alli Anderson, former wife of Silas Anderson, NFL star and…” Blah, blah, blah.
It was like being pulled into a threesome against your will with no escape route, and guess what? You had to keep your clothes on.
Okay, bad analogy. I didn’t want a threesome with my ex and her new wildly successful and insanely popular movie-star boyfriend. I just wanted to be left out of their equation so that maybeIcould move the fuck on.
’Cause right now, I was an ex at everything. Ex-husband, ex-football player. I needed to figure out what would come next for me, on my own. Like Alli had done.
“Well, fifteen years in the league is a huge achievement,” she commented. “I’m proud of you. I hope you’re doing something amazing to celebrate.”
“Thanks. I don’t have any plans, but…I’ll figure something out.”
“Good. Take care of yourself. Later, pookie!”
