Chapter 53
Sadie
Come to my office after your meeting.
I glance down at the text I received ten minutes ago when I was busy making out with my husband in some dark corner of the arena.
My husband.
Those two words have never sounded so good to me.
I’m feeling pretty good after our meeting with the Bobcats’ staff.
Everyone was extremely supportive and didn’t bat an eye when Connor told them that what’s happening between us is real.
Becky assured us that she’d speak to the legal teams and if there were any other questions, she’d be in contact with us.
There’s a bounce to my step as I head down the hall toward Sadie’s office, which is more of a meditation room for the team. I stop in front of her door and reach out for the handle. As soon as I turn it and push the door open, I’m assaulted by silly string and rice.
Rubbery strands cover my hair and clothes as I hide my face and fight my way through the madness.
“Ah! What the hell, you guys!”
Once the chaos concludes, I clear my face of the debris and open my eyes to see Sloane, Sadie, Katie, and Ellie surrounding me with giant smiles on their faces. Sadie is the first to launch herself at me.
She wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight. “I’m so happy the secret is finally out!” She releases me and is immediately attacked by Sloane.
“You knew!?” Sloane asks, while shoving Sadie playfully in the shoulder.
Sadie smirks. “I may have been privy to the information recently.”
Katie pushes Sloane and Sadie out of the way and hugs me quickly. “I’m really happy for you guys.”
Ellie walks toward me, but instead of giving me a hug like the other girls, she holds out a bag.
“A little wedding present. Sadie is planning a reception to celebrate you guys, but we thought you might need this before then.”
My eyes shoot to Sadie and she gives me a little wink. Reaching into the bag, I pull out the lime green tissue paper that’s sitting on top and gasp when I see what’s hiding underneath.
I pull the jersey out, dropping the bag to the floor. Stretching it out in front of me, the Bobcats logo greets me, but it’s the back of the jersey I love the most.
SMITH is in big bold print with the number 89 below it. I smile and shake my head because honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better gift. Without hesitation, I lift the jersey over my head and slide it on.
I put my hands on my hips and turn dramatically like a model at the end of a runway. “How do I look?”
Sloane fans her face. “You look hot, Mrs. Smith.”
The five of us laugh, and I feel my emotions getting the better of me. I take in the four remarkable women surrounding me and my throat tightens with the gravity of it all.
“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you all.
” The laughter quiets and every set of eyes land on me.
“Not just for the jersey, but for taking me in when I was a stray. When I moved here, I was a mess. Like, a complete mess.” I laugh through the tears, and Sadie’s hand reaches out to squeeze my arm.
“I was trying so hard to pretend I was okay and had everything under control, but half the time I could barely get through the day without feeling exhausted or overwhelmed.”
I loop my arm through Sadie’s now, needing her to ground me.
“I didn’t know anyone except Tamara, but she was gone most of the time. With no family nearby and my health was deteriorating by the second. Honestly? I was scared all the time.”
Sloane moves to my other side and wraps her arm around my lower back, resting her head on my shoulder.
“But then I met you all. You stood by my side without hesitation and opened your arms and doors to me. You checked in with every doctor’s appointment and asked what I needed.
You learned all the warning signs before I ever even opened up about my illness.
” I look at Sadie, remembering how she was there each time I fainted, bracing herself for my fall.
“And not once did any of you make me feel like I was too much or a burden.”
My eyes sting as they fill with more tears.
“I don’t think you realize what that did for me. What it meant to have a group of friends who made this strange place feel a little bit like home before I was even ready to admit I needed one.”
Sadie and Ellie wipe at their eyes, while Katie sniffles across from me. Sloane laughs to herself at all the emotion happening around her and I smile at each and every one of them.
“So, thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you girls.”
The four of them all converge on me at the same time and wrap me up into a group hug. We squeeze each other tight for a minute before Sloane breaks the moment in a way only she could.
“Okay, enough crying. Fuck. I want to know everything there is to know about how number eighty-nine bagged himself the hottest commentator in the league.”
The girls laugh and I join, but her question makes one of my own resurface from years ago. I tuck the question away for when I’ll see Connor later and join the girls on the yoga mats on the floor.
And then I tell them our story.
“Connor. Remember what Jerry said. Be nice to these reporters. They’re just trying to do their job.”
He grunts next to me in the driver’s seat, and I chuckle before resting my hand on his thigh. He places his hand on top of mine without hesitation.
“I heard what he said. I just don’t get why asking me about my life is a part of their job. Can’t they do something better with their time? Like, I don’t know, go question the players who get away with domestic abuse and sexual assault like it’s just another Tuesday?”
I inhale deeply but stay quiet. Because he’s right. There is so much going on within the league that demands more attention, but these reporters are here questioning us about our personal life? It’s bullshit.
Turning in my seat, I squeeze his thigh, trying to get his attention. “Hey. Stop the car.”
Connor eases the car to a stop about fifty feet away from the parking lot exit that is still swarming with reporters.
“There’s nothing we can do about that today.
When we get home let’s look up local organizations and women’s shelters that we can donate to and spend our energy there.
We can only control what we can control.
As for these reporters…” I turn and look out the windshield where they’re all waiting for us.
“Let’s just do what Becky said. We don’t have to comment on our marriage, but we do have to be respectful. ”
Connor leans across his seat and kisses me quickly on the mouth. “This is why I married you. You make me a better person.”
I flip my hair dramatically. “What can I say? I’m pretty awesome.”
He reaches across his seat and starts tickling me in the side until I’m a squirming mess.
“Ah! Okay, stop! You’re awesome, too!”
We both laugh, and Connor inches his vehicle forward, stopping at the gate while we wait for security to buzz us through.
As soon as we’re out, reporters make their way to the car. There’s so many of them and only a few guards trying to control the crowd. Connor looks over at me and raises his brows in question.
I shrug. “They’re not going to stop if we don’t give them a little something.”
Connor huffs out a breath and then rolls down his window. He hollers at one of the security guards to let a young woman with a cell phone through.
“One question,” he says to the reporter.
The woman, who can’t be older than twenty-one, nods enthusiastically. She holds up a tiny, fuzzy microphone to her mouth, the kind that influencers on social media use, and begins talking.
“I’m here with Connor Smith and the amazing Avery Chamberlin.”
Connor turns to me and smiles. “You are amazing,” he whispers.
I shake my head and we both look back at the woman standing outside the truck.
“The world needs to know, is this marriage real or was it all a ploy?”
Connor’s jaw flexes, and I see the anger rising on his neck. I lean over the center console and answer before he can snap.
“One question that isn’t about us or our marriage.”
The woman’s face falls and she begins to panic trying to think of another question. It’s clear everyone is here to get the truth, so she wasn’t prepared with anything else.
“You’ve got five seconds, ma’am,” Connor says.
The young blonde woman stammers before a question rushes out of her mouth. “What’s your favorite thing to eat after a game or practice?” She holds the microphone out to Connor and waits for an answer.
Connor looks at me, trouble written on every inch of his face, then turns back to the reporter. He places one hand on the steering wheel and rests his elbow on the open window. Leaning down into the fuzzy microphone, with all the confidence in the world, he responds with two words.
“My wife.”
My mouth hangs open as he takes off down the street and closes his window. We approach a stop sign and when Connor turns to me, my jaw is still on the floor.
“What?” he asks, as if he didn’t just tell the entire world I’m his favorite meal.
“I can’t believe you said that!”
He shrugs and eases his foot off the brake. “You told me to play nice. I just answered the question truthfully.”
Conor turns his attention back to the road, and we make our way through downtown toward his apartment.
Once we get there, he finds a parking spot and turns the truck off.
Before he can open his door to exit, I stop him.
He turns to look at me, and this time, I’m the one with trouble written all over my face.
“Let’s see how quickly you can devour your post-practice meal today. Time to eat, Superstar.”