26. Oakley
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
oakley
My first official event as a WAG. I never heard that term until Friday night at the pool party, but it’s an acronym for Wives and Girlfriends. Corbin got a call yesterday requesting our presence at the main office. Something about a fundraiser they’re putting together for an animal rescue.
Corbin thought they were calling about our impromptu wedding. Thank God, it wasn’t. Corbin and I barely speak at this point. He’s always working out, running, practicing, or working on his endorsements.
It’s been a week since we married, and there’s been no talk of regrets. It’s more like it didn’t happen. But I know it did. I lie in need every night, remembering how he touched me, or rather gripped me. The little marks he left on me are vanishing. Does it make me crazy to be sad about that? Every time I see them in the mirror, it reminds me that we did happen.
I’ve notified Mr. Gould that I married Corbin Shearer and sent him a copy of the marriage certificate. I’ve been waiting for my dad to call, but I guess he doesn’t care.
Par for the fucking course.
One thing Corbin did say to me is, “Management is happy about us.”
I said, “Are you?”
He didn’t say anything else and went to his workout room.
As I put the finishing touches on my hair, pulling it half back in a braid then a messy bun and leaving the rest hanging long, I apply my makeup. Next, I carefully wiggle into the dress I bought with Corbin’s credit card. The less he talks to me the more I’m going to spend.
Footfalls come from the master bedroom. He must walk right by because I hear his heavy steps going down the stairs. When I look over the railing, he’s pacing back and forth. Why is he nervous? They’re his friends and teammates.
He takes a call as I’m walking down into the living room. I catch the end of his conversation; his words are low. “Yes, whatever she wants.”
My heart flutters, hoping that he's talking about me and not some other woman. But even if he’s talking about me, is this just another time he’s trying to rescue me instead of talking to me? I try not to let my insecurities show as I wait for him to notice me. When he finally turns and sees me, his jaw drops, and I feel a touch of satisfaction.
"I can't take you out looking like that," he says, his eyes roaming over my body. "I won't be able to keep the guys off you."
Determined to stand firm and not let his velvety words distract me, I say, “I’m yours, and they know it. Maybe it would help if you acted like it.”
“I can put on a show, but Oakley, I’m trying to protect us both.” He runs a powerful hand over his stubbled jaw. It’s obvious he hasn’t shaved for a couple of days.
“By ignoring me?” I lift a brow, indicating I’m not buying his excuse.
“I’m not ignoring you. You’ve had nothing to say either. This will be easier when it’s over if we keep our distance when we’re not in public.” He avoids meeting my eyes while a pained expression covers his face.
My resolve is weakening to stay in this loveless fake marriage. I thought we could be friends while continuing this charade. At first, I thought it would be worth it to get my trust fund, but then we had to have sex.
I didn’t know before, but I do now—sex changes everything for better or worse. My insides laugh because our tango constitutes worse .
"That's not what I signed up for, Corbin. If you can't handle even talking to me, then I can’t do this. I gave up my work to be here for you. The least you could do is try." Every organ in my body shakes, but I keep my hurt wrapped under my skin.
His stare lingers, and our eyes catch. He counters, “This was your idea. Your plan.”
Corbin Shearer is always right, and I mean that. He thinks everything through. He thought about our arrangement after we had sex and if I’m correct, he’s being honest. It’s the only way neither of us gets too attached and gets hurt more than necessary.
I nod. “Are we driving separately since you can’t stand being in the same room with me?” My trembling lip betrays my sadness and hurt.
He steps into my personal space, skimming my arm with his hand. “Oakley.”
“Don’t. I don’t know how much more I can take. Let’s go make the world believe we’re happy.”
I walk past the clear acrylic wipe -off board I bought to count down the days until we can file for divorce. I erase the number eighty-three and write eighty-two with a bright pink marker. If he understands the meaning, he doesn’t address it. We take slow steps into the garage as he clicks the key fob of his BMW and opens my door. Corbin Shearer, even if he hates you, he’s a gentleman as always.
Corbin swipes his card to get into the administrative offices, and we walk down the same hallway where I met my father.
“Why is it so empty?”
“The event is in the sky suite.”
We wind through some corridors with murals on the wall. One is a scene of an actual game and of course, Corbin’s hands are raised in victory with his stick in one hand. Even though the helmet hides his hair, it can’t hide his eyes and that smile that melts me from the inside out.
In an attempt to lighten the mood before we go into a party having to fake happiness, I goad him, “You’re a lot smaller in real life.” I tip my lips suggestively.
He can’t help but chuckle.
Ahead, people are laughing and on cue, Corbin places his hand on the small of my back.
“Showtime,” I mutter under my breath.
Corbin and I are stopped several times by the people milling outside the suite, and he introduces me, pecking my cheek lovingly, and squeezing my waist for good measure. When we enter the suite there are gold, white and translucent champagne-colored balloons and a congratulations sign hanging on the wall.
Congratulations on Your Happily Ever After
Corbin and Oakley
“Surprise, baby,” he says as he kisses the crown of my head.
“You did this?” I ask, amazed and confused. If he doesn’t want it to hurt worse, why?
“I had help.”
Of course, he did. This has Becca written all over it—classy.
Just then, a gaggle of people who look like Corbin and Becca surround us. Corbin has his dad’s build with his mom’s hair and eyes. And Becca is tiny like her mom with her dad’s blond hair. “Oakley, this is my mom and dad. This is my wife Oakley.”
I like how he uses the possessive term in public, but I loved it more when he used it in private on our wedding night.
“It’s a pleasure,” I squeak out, nerves wracking my body.
His mom says, “We’re a little surprised by how quickly this happened, but all that matters is Corbin’s happiness. If you dreamt of having a big wedding, I’m sure Corbin would love to make your dreams come true, after the season. We’re happy he pulled off the reception, so we all could be here to celebrate your wedding.”
“Thank you.” I look at Corbin. “So, this isn’t an animal shelter fundraiser?” I mean, I see the decorations, but I just want to be clear that Corbin arranged this for us. For a formal public display.
“No, baby. This is just for you—for us.”
Tugging on his arm, he leans down, and I whisper in his ear, “Laying it on a little thick today, considering you…”
I’m interrupted by a small, frail older woman. “Sugarbear, I knew you would find her.”
Corbin seems surprised as he lets go of me and wraps his arms around his grandmother, based on the photos in his house. “Mamaw. You made it.” Genuine happiness paints his face.
“Come here and give your Mamaw-in-law a hug.” Her arms raise excitedly as she wraps them around me, shaking a bit. Then she quietly says in my ear, “Corbin says you don’t have any grandparents. Well, you have one now, and I promise I’m more fun than most.” She coughs as we pull apart. “A little too much fun sometimes,” she jokes.
“Nice to meet you. I could use a little fun in my life.” I glance at Corbin. “I’m not used to sitting around and not working, just waiting for my husband to come home.”
Corbin jumps in. “The season starts next week, and we’ll be on the road together.” He kisses me on the cheek. God, he’s a good actor and I hate him for it. I want him to want more. “Oh, and this is Jasper, Pepper, the twins—Sophie, Renae, Vance, Isaiah, and of course, you know Becca, and these are the littles.”
“Do the littles have names?” I crouch down in front of them. “You must be Layla, Lorna, and Levi.” I touch their bellies when I name each one. “Is there any good food here?” I ask.
Levi is a carbon copy of Corbin, at least what I picture him to have looked like when he was little. He says, “They have sour straws.”
I take his hand. “Can you show me?” Then I ask his parents, “Is it okay if I take the littles?”
“Sure. Be good, kiddos.”
As we’re walking off, Corbin’s mom says, “I think your Mamaw is right; you found her.”
Corbin says, “I know it was quick, but it feels right.”
Inwardly, my eyes are on a continual roll.
Layla, Levi, and Lorna tag along with me as they fill the tiny appetizer plates. “Ooh, they brought out chicken fingers. Do you all want some? They’re my fave.”
The five- and six-year-old kids bounce up and down, unable to contain their excitement. I grab a few pieces and put one piece on each of their plates and a spoonful of dipping sauce. Turns out they all want something different. How does their mom do it? I know why she’s skinny and, in her fifties, they have lots of energy.
Suddenly, Jennie Rae, Rodney, and Sonny walk in, and the first thing Jennie Rae does is scream. “Mrs. Shearer, where are you?” She parts the crowd and heads straight for me. “There she is, and who are these little cuties?” She squeezes me tight.
“These are Corbin’s little brothers and sisters.” I introduce them before Jasper and Pepper come over and take them to sit and eat.
Jennie Rae can barely contain herself. “Were you surprised? I’ve been keeping the secret all week. Corbin came by after practice on Monday and invited everyone. A few of the girls had other plans. But he wanted to make sure Rodney could come, and I guess he found Sonny and asked him too.” Jennie Rae shrugs, then I notice she has a present in one hand.
“You didn’t have to get us anything.”
“Girl, are you kidding? You’re my best friend.”
“I know, but Corbin has everything.”
“Girl, he doesn’t have this. Open this when you get home, then model it for him. You’ll be irresistible.” She wiggles her eyebrows, suggestively.
You’d be surprised.
“Thank you.”
Rodney is talking to Corbin and his family while Sonny takes advantage of the situation and pulls me into a corner. “I thought we were getting back together.” His face is mere inches from mine, and I’m not scared, but I’m claustrophobic, and my body feels uncomfortable.
“Scoot back. I don’t know what gave you that idea.”
“This doesn’t pass the smell test. Why would you choose someone you barely know over someone you know loves you? All of you?”
Well, there’s the trust fund but even if there wasn’t, I wouldn’t get back with Sonny. He’s a known cheater, and cheaters cheat. Instead, I respond by saying, “Corbin and I just fit. He’s the most caring guy I know.”
I slip from the corner and see my father talking to the other owner and general manager. I don’t know why I didn’t expect to see him, since he’s a partial owner. Is he going to acknowledge publicly that I’m his daughter, or is he here for Corbin’s benefit?
My heart races, and my palms get sweaty and the first person I look to is my husband, for his strength and calm. Left to my own devices, I probably can’t rein in my anger over his blatant disregard for me. He knows who I am and for at least for two weeks, he’s been aware of Corbin and me dating and getting married at his teammate’s house. The videos went viral. Corbin was called into the management’s office. All he said to me is, “They’re glad I found someone to make me happy.” I asked if my dad was in the meeting, and he said, “No.”
Corbin must see my father too, and immediately walks over to me with all his swagger and golden-boy charm. “How’s my little thief?” He glares at Sonny before sliding on a fake smile. “Sonny, glad you could make it, but I need to steal my wife.” His choice of words isn’t lost on me.
“My father’s here,” I say through closed teeth.
“Let’s get this over with.” We walk hand in hand to where my dad is holding a drink and laughing with his friends.
Despite the celebration around me, I’m filled with dread and anxiety. I grab a glass of champagne off the table with a sparkling gold Mr. & Mrs . centerpiece. The bubbles dance on my tongue before filling me with warmth and courage. Corbin pumps my hand a couple of times, and I know he’s got my back.