Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Tedi’s Journal Entry
Eight years ago
Nashville
To my older self,
Tweetie being traded while still recuperating from his knee injury and him having to sit on the bench for a new team isn’t helping us remain as connected as we usually are since he moved to Nashville. The situation is stirring up a bunch of shit for me, and I worry we’re about to ruin everything. There’re so many questions, so many what-ifs hanging in the air around us. But I feel all my abandonment issues nipping at my heels, sending me running faster and faster toward our doom. Before you judge, future me, let me remind you exactly what’s happening.
I decided to surprise Tweetie in Nashville. When I told him I couldn’t uproot my life and my goals to follow him to Nashville, he said he understood, but I know he didn’t. Maybe he did a little, but not enough. It was so hard to say no—so hard—but I felt like I owed it to the little girl who said she’d never hang her life on a man, that she’d always have her own money, her own dreams, her own sense of self.
I went to the condo he rented in downtown Nashville and sweet-talked the doorman into letting me up and into his place. Thankfully, I was on the approved visitor list, but the doorman went above and beyond by unlocking the apartment for me after I showed him a ton of photos of the two of us through the years.
I scattered flowers along the floor, leading to the bedroom. Then I turned off the lights and used the battery-operated tea lights to light the path. I opened a bottle of champagne, pulled out two glasses, and changed into the new red lingerie I’d bought for him.
Tossing more rose petals on his bed, I waited until he should’ve been on his way home, then I sank down in the middle of the bed, posing in my best sex kitten position, and waited for him.
I was going to make this work with him. We were so good for so long. Right after he left, our video chats were awesome. Little texts would be sent to each other with I miss yous and I love yous. But in recent weeks, things had changed. Video chats weren’t happening, being replaced with good morning and good night texts. I hadn’t gotten a vulgar dick pic from him in a month. That should’ve been my first sign.
After talking to Saige, I decided we needed this weekend together. He was off and it would just be us, reconnecting and finding our way back to one another. Finding our way back to being the best couple I’d ever known.
I waited for a half hour after he should’ve been home, and the condo door never opened. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand, anything to keep my mind from wandering to a worst-case scenario, and scrolled through my emails from work. After an hour had passed, I shot him a text.
Call me when you’re on your way home.
The three dots never popped up.
My heart sank. I kept repeating to myself nothing was going on, he was just delayed, maybe stopped at the grocery store or to grab something to eat. But I could feel the panic and the anxiety setting in.
I probably should’ve told him I was coming. I should’ve given him the heads-up to be here, then surprised him with the candles and the roses and the lingerie.
My first mistake was going to the blogs after I’d checked my work emails. I used to stay off them. Never wanted to be sucked into rumors and gossip that most often weren’t true. But I had to know if Tweetie was making me a fool. Was I lying in his bed while he was out with someone else? Although I hated myself the more my thumbs scrolled, it didn’t stop me.
Then I found something. A picture of him with a blonde at some club. Comments about how funny and down-to-earth he is. Innocent enough, but my eyes only zeroed in on the girl’s hand lying flat on his stomach. I read through every comment, and from what people were saying, it sounded like Tweetie was at the clubs an awful lot. A lot more than he had told me. And it was women who were commenting. Suddenly panic and fear had me in their grip, and each comment I read felt like a bullet through my flesh.
He’s so nice.
He’s so friendly.
He made me laugh so hard I almost peed myself.
He bought me and my friends a round of drinks.
Thank goodness Florida gave him up.
He was born to be a Nashville boy.
Thank you, Florida.
Welcome, Tweetie.
My new favorite player, Tweetie Sorenson.
I closed out of the app before I screamed so loudly someone thought I was being murdered. Tossing my phone on the rose-petal-covered bed, I threw on one of his sweatshirts and went into the family room, knowing what I was going to do.
I hated myself the entire time I scoured his apartment, almost wanting to find something just to prove my demons right. He was out with another girl right now. He’d found someone here in Nashville to replace me and was just afraid to tell me.
At some point, I lost control of myself. That little voice that said I was crazy to think he was cheating on me vanished, leaving only the voice that was certain he was done with me as I searched his things like a trained FBI agent.
I covered every inch, and I found myself almost wanting to get one piece of evidence so I could be waiting in the dark when he returned home. It all played out in my head—I’d be holding the piece of evidence, shining a flashlight to reveal myself and the evidence, and watch his face pale. I’d already have my bag packed, but I’d leave the roses and candles to show him what he could have had tonight. I’d leave him without giving him a chance to try to get me back. It was like a movie playing out in my head.
A key hit the doorknob, but I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have anything to yell “aha” and confront him with.
The sun had already descended, and his apartment was masked in an orange glow from the stupid tea lights I’d set out.
I stood to the side so he couldn’t see me, hoping she was with him so she could see what kind of guy he was. But no woman’s voice came as I heard his bag thud to the floor.
“Tedi?” he called.
The tension in my body fell at the hope I heard in his voice. At him seeing the rose petals and candles and assuming I was here because no one else would have gotten into his apartment.
I walked around the corner, and his face lit up. God, what was wrong with me? I was being crazy.
He broke the distance, his eyes soaking me in with so much desire, I thought I’d burst into flames. “I love it when you wear my clothes.” He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Babe, what are you wearing under my sweatshirt?”
I gripped him harder, and he let the question go. He didn’t kiss me right away but buried his head in the crook of my neck. And then it happened. First the sting of tears. Then the painful closing of my throat. Third, a rasped apology. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled back and stared into my tear-filled eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He walked me over to the couch, sitting down so I was still straddling him. I kept my face in his neck, not wanting him to look at me. He’d see what I had done and how I’d failed to trust him and how certifiable I could be.
He wouldn’t let me hide, though. Instead, he nudged me to look at him. “What is it?”
“I’m a horrible person.” More teardrops fell down my cheeks, but he didn’t brush them away.
He froze, staring at me, waiting for me to explain.
“I just searched your entire apartment.”
He didn’t say anything but stared into my eyes.
“I thought you were out cheating on me when you didn’t come home.”
He nodded, but still nothing.
“I have no excuse. I’m a horrible human being.” I rested my forehead on his collarbone.
He chuckled and ran his hands down my hair. “You’re not a horrible human being, but did I do something to make you think that I was being unfaithful?”
I shrugged.
He said my name with the same patience and understanding he almost always had for me. This was the Tweetie who got me over this fear all these years together. And in that moment, I found myself upset with Jana and Kane for trading him, because they were making me into a nutcase and ruining my relationship with the best guy in the world.
I pulled back, and he cradled my cheeks in his hands. “I just…”
“Talk to me.”
“Things are changing. We barely talk. We barely text. You don’t send me dick pics anymore.” A wail slipped from my throat, and I tried to hide my face, but he wouldn’t let me hide from him.
His laugh bounced around the half-empty apartment. “So what you’re saying is that you miss my dick?”
“I miss you.”
He laughed harder, and his smile grew. “I know. I was joking. Okay, so we suck at this long-distance thing. Noted.”
His thumbs dried my tears. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. When you said you were a horrible person, the same thought came to my mind, and I just about keeled over. I know I’ve been lost in my own head since the trade.” We held one another for a few minutes, and he kissed my forehead. “Funny that you’re here. I was going to surprise you, but I had to meet with the trainer first, then I was coming here to pack my bag.”
Maybe if I had waited for him to come to me, this feeling of guilt wouldn’t be invading every cell in my body. I hate the version of me that just made an appearance, and I hate that this trade made it come to the surface like some parasite lying dormant in me all these years.
Tweetie’s hands slid under his sweatshirt. “Lace, silk, and skin. As much as I love it when you wear my sweatshirts, can I see what’s underneath?”
I sat back in his lap and grabbed the hem of the sweatshirt, peeling it off my body.
“Fuck, how did I get so lucky to score you as my girlfriend?”
Without saying anything else, he picked me up and walked me into the bedroom. He didn’t ravish me but took his time, as if he was savoring my body, my very presence. We stayed up talking about how we would get through this until we figured out a way for us not to do a long-distance relationship.
I was back in my familiar, blissful state with him until a woman knocked on his door the next morning, accusing him of impregnating her. All at once, I was back to being the insecure, anxious woman I’d been twelve hours before.