Chapter 8
I had just slipped into my after-work lounge wear when there was a knock at the door.
I froze with one foot halfway in a fuzzy slipper.
I wasn’t expecting company. There were a couple more knocks this time.
Whoever it was wasn’t going away.I looked at my phone—no missed calls announcing anyone’s arrival.
Mateo was at practice, and Mason was at school for another hour, which meant someone was selling something I didn’t want.
I headed to the door and peered through the peephole.
My stomach dropped. Remi Pearson stood outside with her arms crossed over her chest and her locs pulled in a tight ponytail.
I considered pretending I wasn’t home, but her eyes gazed up to the peephole like she sensed me watching.
I blew out air and unlocked the door. I fixed my face to be welcoming or at least neutral.
“Remi. This is… unexpected.”
“Is it? Do you mind if I come inside?” Her voice was flat as she looked me over, scanning my messy bun and oversized sweatshirt.
Was it really a question? Because she was already stepping forward. I backed up, allowing her to pass.
“I was about to make tea. Would you like some?” I asked.
“No. I’m good.”
She walked into my home like she was casing out the place.
She touched a framed photo of Mateo, Mason, and me on vacation.
Then she focused on a glossy magazine image where Mateo was featured as an up-and-comer before he actually got the opportunity.
Her eyes lingered on that one, and it made my chest tighten.
“How’s DeAndre?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
Remi faced me. “His vitals are stable, but he’s still unconscious.”
I gestured to the sofa. “You want to sit?”
She didn’t move. “I didn’t come for small talk.”
“Then why did you come? Because I haven’t heard from you since—” My words came out sharp, and I took a small breath to soften my tone.
“Since my brother nearly died after what is being called a routine isolation drill. Since your husband mysteriously got the starting position. DeAndre would have been looked at by the NBA scouts that night.” Her voice remained level, but an undercurrent made the hair on my arms stand up.
I mirrored her stance and crossed my arms. “It was an accident. You know how physical the drills can get.”
“Do I? Because something isn’t adding up. There are too many motives that tell me otherwise.”
My jaw tightened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Mateo isn’t who you think he is. Someone saw something.”
I kept my face natural. “Saw what?”
Remi shrugged.
“That’s a hell of an accusation to make with no proof. Mateo was devastated about DeAndre, and the whole team was.” My hands were trembling, but my voice didn’t waver.
“I know your husband had the most to gain, and the look on your face tells me you’re scared. Tell the truth. Something in you is also saying things aren’t adding up.”
“You need to leave. Now.” I opened the door wide.
Remi nodded, as if I confirmed something for her. “They’re going to run more thorough toxicology screens now that DeAndre’s stable enough.”
“There’s nothing to find because nothing happened.” I was unsure if my voice’s conviction reached my core where doubt had taken root.
“For yours and your son’s sake, I hope that’s true. However, if not, you should be ready because it will burn everything down when it comes out… including you if you’re standing too close!”
I closed the door after her and turned the deadbolt. I stood there momentarily with my head on the cool metal just breathing.
It couldn’t be true, but how could I overlook the seed Remi planted? I thought about the strange calls, late nights, and deleted texts. I looked at the clock. It was time to pick Mason up from school. I ran my hands down my body as if that would help me compose myself.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly as Remi’s words ricocheted through my mind.
Her accusations were cruel and absurd. The Mateo I knew wouldn’t hurt a fly much less sabotage a teammate.
Yet, the seeds she planted had me asking questions.
I force myself to relax. I didn’t want Mason to see me like this.
That boy caught everything—a trait I’m sure he got from me.
The dismissal bell rang, and the kids came pouring out of the building.
The kindergarten teacher and her aide assisted the younger kids into the cars to keep the line moving.
I spotted Mason immediately with his bright blue backpack.
His stride already mimicked Mateo’s confident gait.
My heart squeezed at the sight. He loved his daddy so much.
He damn near worshiped the ground he walked on.
Mason’s face lit up when he saw the car.
He pulled the teacher’s aide to the car, yanked the door open, and launched himself inside.
“Mommy, I made a three-pointer at recess just how Daddy showed me!”
The teacher’s aide snapped his seatbelt and gave me the thumbs up before closing my door.
“That’s amazing, baby. Did everyone see?”
“Yeah, even Mrs. Elise! She said I might even be better than Daddy one day.”
I giggled as I looked into the rearview mirror and all around the car to make sure it was clear before I pulled out.
“You’ll have to tell him tonight. He might want a rematch to defend his title.”
“Uh huh, and I’m ready. I’ve been practicing up on my follow through,” Mason declared.
“I bet.” I listened halfheartedly to Mason as I concentrated on the traffic. He went on and on about the playground politics of who did what—normal kindergarten stuff.
“Did you hear me, Mommy?”
“Of course, baby. You said Joseph took your pudding cup?”
“No. That was yesterday.” He sighed dramatically.
When we pulled into the driveway, I was surprised to see Mateo’s Audi already parked there. He wasn’t due home until after six on practice days.
“Daddy’s home!” Mason shouted, scampering out of his booster seat before I could even put the car into gear.
“Hold up. You know the rules,” I said, catching his arm.
Mason sighed but complied. He raced to the front door after I released him. I followed behind slowly, still reeling from my conversation with Remi. It was getting hard to face him. Would he know I suspected something?
Inside, Mason had already disappeared by the time I reached the door.
I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulder and closed the door behind.
The scent hit me first—onions, garlic, something savory and rich.
Then the low music of D’Angelo playing in the background and Mateo cooking was practically a red flag.
D’Angelo was the music he played when he’d forgotten our anniversary or missed a T-ball game.
I set my purse on the entry table and moved toward the kitchen.
Mason was perched on a stool, chattering away to Mateo, who stood at the stove with his back to me.
He wore practice shorts and a plain white tee instead of his team gear.
His movements were precise as he stirred whatever was in the pot.
“Then I used my fingers like you showed me, and it went into the basket. Swish!” Mason said.
“That’s my boy. You’ll be showing me up pretty soon.” Mateo ruffled Mason’s hair, and he shifted his smile to me.
“There she is. I wondered when you would get home.” His voice was smooth as butter.
“The traffic around the school was heavy. Practice let out early?” I asked.
“Yeah. Coach had a family thing. I thought I’d surprise you guys with dinner. I’m making your favorite pasta.”
I slid onto a stool next to Mason, kissing the top of his head. “Sounds delicious. What’s the occasion?”
Mateo shrugged. “No occasion.”
Mason tugged on my arm. “Mommy, can I change and then show Daddy my spelling test?”
“Sure, baby, five minutes. Then wash your hands for dinner.”
Mason ran off, leaving me and Mateo alone in the kitchen. The silence was deafening.
“Wine? I opened the Cab you’ve been saving,” he said without waiting for my answer.
“Sure.” I watched as he poured carefully, trying not to spill a drop.
He handed me the glass and lifted his in a toast. “To the woman who knows too much.”
I froze with the glass halfway to my mouth. “What is that supposed to mean?”
His smile didn’t waver. “You’ve always been the smart one, babe. You always notice everything. It’s why we work together so well.”
A tense beat passed, but I held my glass up higher. “To secrets. To your secrets.”
Mateo’s smile faltered, but I caught it.
I had to let him know I was preparing for my next move, because I didn’t like his cryptic ass warning or message. Or was I reading into things because of what Remi had told me earlier?
“How was work?” Mateo asked, backing down.
“It was a light day. I had a few things to take care of here.” I set my glass down, watching the muscles in his back flex as he drained the pasta.
“Anything interesting?”
I hesitated. “Not really. Just catching up on life.”
Mateo nodded. “Life has a way of catching up to us, doesn’t it?”
There it was—another double meaning, still I couldn’t quite pin it down.
I studied him as he plated the pasta with the same meticulous care he’d shown all evening.
His hands were steady, but there was a tightness around his eyes, and when he turned, there was a slight twitch in his cheek that appeared when he was stressed.
“Mateo…” I wasn’t even sure what I was going to ask him, but Mason came bouncing back into the kitchen with his spelling test in his hand.
“Daddy, look, I got all the words right!”
Mateo’s attention was entirely on our son, and his face softened. He took the test and examined it.
“Look at that. Not a single mistake. Do you know what that calls for?”
Mason’s eyes widened. “Ice cream?”
“Exactly. You read my mind as long as it’s cool with Mommy. We have a spelling bee champ to celebrate.”
“Of course.” I nodded.