My office door opens, and Camille leans in with two coffees and the expression she wears when she knows I'm going to need help to hold it together.
"You ready?" she asks.
"As I'll ever be, I guess." I take the coffee.
She's asking about the interview. Colt sat down with a sports network yesterday, and every outlet in Houston has been running the clip on a loop since six this morning. Networks have been clamoring to get to him since the divorce went public, all of them wanting his side of the story, and Colt has never once in his life turned down an audience.
Camille places her hand over mine and gives it a soft squeeze. Then she takes the remote and presses play.
Good morning Houston. I'm Lyle and this is my co-host, Marissa. We're here today with NFL Hall of Famer Colton Monroe.
Thanks for having me. It's great to meet you both in person.
He looks good. He always looks good on camera — that's always been part of the problem. Easy smile, broad shoulders, the particular warmth he performs for strangers that the people closest to him never see. He's wearing the navy blazer I boughthim for his induction ceremony, and I wonder if that was deliberate. I decide it was.
Colton, we appreciate you sitting down with us, given everything you're going through right now.
He exhales slowly, drops his eyes for just a beat, and looks back up with the expression of a man carrying something heavy with tremendous grace.
I appreciate the space to talk about it. It's been a difficult time.
I take a long sip of coffee.
Camille's hand tightens over mine.
Can you tell us a little about what the last few months have looked like for you?
You know, Marissa, I've spent a lot of time trying to understand what happened.He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. The posture of a man being ‘honest’.Blaire and I were high school sweethearts. We built a life together. I thought we were building it together, anyway. When she filed, I genuinely didn't see it coming. I still struggle to understand it.
Camille makes a sound low in her throat.
I say nothing and just keep watching.
There are reports that the split was contentious. Would you say that's accurate?
I'd say Blaire is going through something I don't fully understand.He pauses, choosing his words with careful deliberation. Like he hasn’t fucking rehearsed this.I love her. I have always loved her. Whatever she needs to work through, I respect that. But I'd be lying if I said it doesn't hurt to watch someone you've given everything to decide that everything isn't enough.
Given everything to.
I think about the morning I woke up in the hospital. The nurse's careful questions. Colt in the waiting room playing the worried husband for everyone who walked past.
Is there any chance of reconciliation?
He smiles. Sad. Hopeful. Perfectly calibrated.I have to believe there is. Blaire is the love of my life. I'm not ready to give up on that. I'm not sure I ever will be.
The love of his life.
Fucking whore. Can’t do anything right, can you? Why the fuck did I even marry you?
I flinch at the memory and set my coffee down. My hands have started to shake and I don't want Camille to see it.
What would you say to Blaire if she were watching right now?
He looks directly at the camera. Directly at me, it feels like, through the screen, through the wall, through every mile between Downtown Houston and where I'm sitting.
Come home, baby. Whatever this is, we can fix it together. You don't have to do this alone.
I press the power button on the remote, and the television goes dark.
