50. Shayla
50
SHAYLA
“ H ave you talked to Easton?” my mom asked, her voice raspy. Her question was followed by a coughing fit, so I reached for her cup of water and brought the straw to her lips. She took a sip and smiled at me gratefully.
I shook my head in answer, tears stinging the backs of my eyes again. I’d had no intention of telling her what was going on. She didn’t need the added stress. But I started crying when she asked if I was going to watch the game last night. I had no choice but to tell her what was going on. She’d rubbed my back as sobs wracked my body. Then she’d tried to make excuses for him. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked, or maybe it was just the angle of the camera. Maybe he was trying to walk away from her and not lead her back to his hotel room.
I didn’t believe any of it, not for one minute. She’d touched him with the familiarity of a lover, and he’d let her.
“Sweetheart, you two are married. You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” she replied, her eyes full of empathy and maybe a little reproach. If anyone knew what I was feeling, it was her. She’d been in the same position before with my father. It didn’t matter that my marriage to Easton wasn’t real; my feelings for him were.
“I know,” I admitted softly. “I’m just not ready. And I need to focus on you and helping you get better.”
“Don't use my illness as a shield,” she admonished gently. “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean you can avoid resolving issues with your husband.”
“How am I supposed to resolve this? He cheated on me,” I cried, my voice cracking.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I’m not going to bury my head in the sand and pretend it didn’t happen.” I couldn’t hide the accusation in my tone, and my mother winced. Regret washed over me instantly. “Mom, I’m?—”
“I know you must have thought me weak for staying with your father for so long,” she began, and I wanted to deny it even though it was true. “But I didn’t stay with him because I believed he was sorry or thought he would change. I stayed with him for you and your sister. I knew if I left he would make our lives hell.” I stared at her in stunned disbelief. “It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen the signs. I knew he’d eventually leave of his own accord, and even though we struggled, we still had peace. We wouldn’t have had that if I’d been the one to leave.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because Easton is different. He’s nothing like your father. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, like you’re his entire universe, every sun and every star wrapped into one.” Emotion swelled in my chest, but I shoved it down and locked it away. She was only seeing what she wanted to see because she didn’t know it was all a ruse.
Before I could respond, Makenna burst into the room out of breath and pushing her windswept hair from her face.
“Shayla, you gotta see this,” she said, panting.
“What?” I asked, unsure I wanted to know considering the wild look in her eyes.
She tapped on her phone screen a couple times and turned it toward me. A video of the press conference following last night’s game began to play, and my chest tightened at the sight of Easton sitting behind the table. Kent and Weiss answered a few questions before a middle aged male reporter set his sights on Easton.
“Some might say your aggression on the ice is a result of the recent scandal involving your former coach’s wife, Jessica Danvers,” he began, and I was caught off guard by his statement. What aggression was he talking about, and how the hell did he know that was Jessica Danvers in those pictures? He continued on, asking probing questions and bringing up Easton’s history with Jessica.
Shit, somehow the press had learned about that.
Coach Bradford tried to step in and intervene, but Easton refused to let him stop the interview. His expression turned glacial as he addressed the pictures, claiming that they were misleading. Then his face softened, and warmth filled his eyes. My heart rate picked up, and I watched with bated breath as he continued. Then I stopped breathing all together at the next words that came out of his mouth.
“Anyone who knows me knows how much I love my wife.” The buzzing in my ears drowned out all other sound, and I heard nothing else after that. I stared absently at the screen, unseeing as my mind reeled from what he just claimed on national TV. I was vaguely aware of Makenna taking her phone from me and saying my name, but I was frozen. I couldn’t even speak.
Was any of it true? Did he love me? Had he really turned down Jessica’s advances?
Or was it all for show? Just a ploy to win back the public’s affection. If he truly loved me, he would have told me, right? This was a publicity stunt. Roni probably put him up to it to salvage his reputation.
“I knew it was all a big lie and that Easton hadn’t been unfaithful,” my mom claimed. I turned to see tears glimmering in her eyes, and I frowned.
“You don’t actually believe all that, do you?” I asked, my voice dripping with derision. She drew back, surprised by my tone.
“Of course, I do,” she proclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.
“He doesn’t love me, Mom. He never did.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s not real!” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. My mom and sister wore matching shocked expressions.
“What do you mean it’s not real?” Makenna asked.
I dropped my head into my hands and took a few deep, calming breaths. I’d never planned on telling them the truth. Easton and I were just going to quietly divorce and claim that we simply drifted apart. But the truth hung in the air between us, and there was nothing I could do to reel it back in, so I had to come clean.
“My marriage to Easton is fake,” I confessed. “We were never in love. I only married him to get my trust fund, and he needed to repair his image. It was all an act.”
“Oh, honey, there’s nothing fake about that man’s feelings for you,” my mom replied, completely glossing over the part about my trust fund, and I smothered the flare of hope rising in my chest.
“Wait a minute,” Makenna said, holding up her hands to halt the conversation. “You’re telling me you never…” Her voice fell away as she curved her fingers into a circle and used the opposite forefinger to poke into it to simulate sex. I winced and glanced away, unable to lie to her about being intimate with my husband. “You did!” She gasped, her eyes bugging out of her head. “It may have started out fake, but it’s definitely not anymore. I agree with Mom. You should see the way he looks at you. That man is absolutely enamored,” she claimed, using jazz hands to emphasize the last word.
“You guys don’t know Easton like I do,” I argued. “Sure, we’re … compatible in the bedroom, but that doesn’t equal love.” Reducing our connection to nothing more than sex felt like a knife through the heart, but I couldn’t admit I’d fallen for him when he didn’t feel the same.
They shared a look as though they were both questioning the state of my mental well-being. “And I don’t care what he said in that press conference; that woman put her hands on him several times, and he continued to let it happen. Hell, he even touched her back as he led her out of the bar and covered her hand with his while she groped his arm.” Okay, groped might’ve been too strong a term for what she did, but it drove my point home. “If what he claims is true, why would he have touched her?” My voice shook, and my chin quivered as tears filled my eyes.
“You love him, don’t you?” Makenna asked, head tilted as she studied me.
“I don’t want to,” I insisted, squeezing my eyes shut to stave off the tears. It didn’t work. They slid down my cheeks, unbidden.
“But you do.”
“Yes, I love him,” I admitted out loud. It was the first time I’d ever uttered those words, and now that they were out there, I couldn’t take them back.