Chapter 1 #2
I choked out a sob. Of course they’d reach that conclusion.
No one saw me getting out of the car. Everyone assumed hockey players were straight.
The sport was hypermasculine and all about athletes who pushed their bodies to the next level—speed, big plays, and even bigger hits.
Players who performed at that level couldn’t possibly be anything other than pussy-loving brutes.
Ones who apparently had no morals.
But then again, according to TMZ, neither did their wives.
The vibration on the mattress snapped me out of my horror, and I picked up Chris’s cell phone.
“Hon, it’s your agent.” I held it out to him with a shaking hand and wrapped my other arm around my naked waist, trying to shield myself from the footage.
Chris muted the television, and I watched numbly as talking heads appeared, their expressions swapping back and forth between sympathetic—a sentiment as fake as their tans—and judgmental.
They were debating our life right there on television. They were picking apart the kind of person they thought I was, the public persona of a dedicated hockey wife and passionate supporter of animals and veterans versus the whore who slept with her husband’s teammate.
I wondered how long they thought it would be before one of us filed for divorce. The paps would be salivating, taking bets on whether it’d be immediate or a slower process if we tried to work through my so-called betrayal.
God, what a mess.
Chris was speaking, but I couldn’t hear past the buzzing in my ears.
My vision swam as tears spilled over, running hot down my cheeks.
Everything was numb. I was in a state of shock, but also hypersensitive.
The replay of the footage over and over and the looks on the presenters’ faces were like ice picks to my heart.
Chris paced in front of me. I watched him in a daze. The slashing movements of his free hand were short and sharp. Angry.
“No,” he bit out loud enough that it snapped me out of my own head. “I’m not making any comment. No press releases.”
I couldn’t hear what was said back, but Chris’s face turned red, and the muscles in his jaw bulged. “No. Statements,” he gritted out.
“Chris,” I whispered, but the words I would have said next died in my throat when he shot me a withering glare.
“I don’t give a fuck if you recommend putting something out there, James,” he snapped. “It’s not happening.”
Another beat of silence, and then Chris growled. “No. Fucking. Comment.” He jammed his finger down and threw his cell phone onto the bed. The dull thunk when it slid off the other side and hit the floor ricocheted around the room.
“We have to say something,” I whispered. “They’re saying Hux and I were cheating. That’s not fair on either of us.”
“We’re not having this discussion, Kamirah.” He shook his head and his shoulders fell. “You know why I can’t say anything.”
I threw my hands up in the air and challenged, “So you’re okay with throwing me under the bus to protect yourself?” My voice rose without conscious thought on my part. It was as if a switch had been flicked, pain quickly morphing into rage.
I was so fucking angry at him, at them, and the situation they’d put us in. I stormed away from Chris, slamming the door to our walk-in closet closed behind me.
But then he followed me in there and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to him.
I pushed out of his embrace.
I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
“Of course I don’t want that,” he placated. “But what choice do I have? It’ll ruin everything.”
“Staying silent will too,” I argued, yanking on a pair of underwear.
“You can’t see it, but this is going to destroy both Hux’s reputation and mine.
None of us were doing anything wrong.” I gestured between us, my hands shaking and my tone pleading when I begged, “We can make something up—I’ll pretend he was coming over to organize a surprise birthday party for you.
Better yet, my birthday is before yours—say you had him here doing party planning.
Fuck, anything is better than saying nothing. ”
“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his pecs and biceps straining, and looked down at me with a determined set to his jaw.
“That’s it, then. You’ve made your decision, and I just have to go along with it?” I asked incredulously, then slammed the drawer closed.
“Kam, baby,” he pleaded, reaching for me again.
“Don’t ‘Kam, baby’ me,” I shot back and slapped his hand away.
I loved my husband. He was the other half of my soul. My heart belonged to him. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.
But, fuck me, he was infuriating.
“Please.”
“I’m so fucking angry with you right now.
I don’t even want to look at you.” I shook my head and closed my eyes, holding my hands out in a stopping motion in case he got any ideas.
“I can’t believe you’d let them say those things about me and the guy you’ve been sticking your dick in for over a year.
Your only instinct is to protect yourself, not either of us,” I added, resigned.
“Ignore it,” he responded. His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers.
It was as if he’d just hatched a genius plan.
He pointed at the television and added vehemently, “Pretend this ridiculous report never happened. No one who knows us will believe it.” Chris gestured between us.
“They all know we're tight. They know we'd never cheat on each other.
It doesn't matter what other people think, anyway.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “We know the truth. That's enough.”
“Right, of course. Ignore it,” I parroted back with enough sarcasm to sink a ship.
“Easier said than done when I have public relations commitments and a social media profile that I need to upkeep for the sake of a charity. Although, who knows—” I threw my hands up in the air.
“—they might relieve my cheating ass from my board duties anyway.”
“That’s not going to happen. You’ve done so much good for them. They respect you.”
“Yeah, just like the respect you’re showing me right now.”
“Kam,” he begged, reaching for me. “I’m leaving for Australia in a few hours. I don’t want us to fight.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve made your bed. Now I have to lie in it.” I yanked my T-shirt on, then roughly shoved past him. “Finish getting packed and leave.”
“We need to talk this out.”
“Why? You’ve made your decision.” I shook my head and exhaled heavily. “What about Hux? This is going to hurt him. He doesn’t deserve this.”
Chris sighed and nodded. “I know. But we don't have a choice. We can't get drawn into this. We can't give them any hint of what really happened. It’s better this way. If we don’t comment, if we don’t give them anything, they won’t suspect otherwise.”
“We should at least call him and give him the heads-up in case he hasn’t already heard.”
“No.” Chris slowly closed his eyes, his entire being looking defeated. “We can't. We're done. It’s over.”
I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a fish’s.
“You can't be serious. We can't just do nothing. We can't not even contact him.” Chris was running scared, terrified of being outed. I understood why. I understood the catastrophic effect doing so would have. But that didn’t excuse his behavior now. If nothing else, Hux was our friend.
“That’s exactly what we have to do. Please. You know what's at stake.”
“I can’t agree to this, Chris. I can’t sit back and watch you destroy him and possibly his career too. How will you live with yourself if management trades him because of this?”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” He looked down at the charcoal carpet underfoot and ran his toe along the parallel lines of loops. “Kam, please trust me. Please let me handle this. Don’t call him. I’ll speak to him.”
My heart was breaking, and anger surged through my veins. He’d betrayed me. He’d promised we’d be there for each other through every trial life threw our way. But the moment things got complicated, he ducked for cover and pushed me into the line of fire.
My husband had just shattered my trust in him.
I didn’t have the words to respond to him—at least none I would utter when he was about to fly halfway around the world for a few weeks. So I turned and trudged downstairs, a war raging inside of me with every step I took. Instinct told me to go to him, but I needed the space.
Coffee. I needed that just as much.
It was a triple espresso kind of morning, and I feared it would only get worse.