Chapter 14
Courtney
Sasha paused whatever reality show she was watching when I walked downstairs with my keys in hand and gym bag slung over my
shoulder.
She zeroed in on the bag and drained the rest of what was probably a mimosa. “Where you goin’?”
“To work out. I’m not playing, but I gotta stay in shape or I’ll be useless come regular season if all I do is sit around
doin’ nothin’ while in this thing.” I held up the cast.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know, I ruin everythin’.”
I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. The house had been uneasy for the past couple of days, and her passive-aggressive
attitude was seriously grating on my nerves. Not enough that I wanted to bring up the topic that started it at the restaurant,
because I didn’t want to get into a full-blown argument with her over the idea of children again. When was I supposed to have
time to do that? With everything else I was responsible for . . . but as usual, she didn’t factor that in. She didn’t factor
me in.
Meanwhile, I’d been talking with my financial guy, making sure the money was straight, and I wasn’t going to need to figure out some sort of part-time job.
Luckily, my agent said she’d gotten a few calls about potential brand deals.
Winning the championship had created some extra buzz and gave a boost of interest to a few places she’d been courting for a while.
We were hopeful details could be ironed out soon.
“I’m gonna be gone for a couple hours. Goin’ to the arena for a workout then poppin’ into the barber shop for a touch-up.”
She smacked her lips and waved her hand there. “Whatever. Just go.”
“What’s your problem, Sasha? I’m going to work out. Nothin’ I don’t normally do. Because, again, I have to be game-ready come
regular season.”
She stood, then strolled into the kitchen and started fixing herself another drink. “Yeah, because priorities, right? And
to think I turned down brunch with my girls.”
“Why? It’s not like we had plans.”
“Right. I’m boo-boo the fool, callin’ myself bein’ here for my wife. I shoulda known better. But you g’on, have a good workout.
I’ll find somethin’ to do with myself, like I’m always left to do. Might hit up Phipps.” She stared directly at me as she
said the last part and sipped on her fresh drink.
I let my bag slide from my shoulder onto one of the barstools.
My first inclination was to tell her that me working was making her a priority, that she was always my top priority next to
Mya. That working was how I made sure she had every-thing she needed and wanted. It afforded her the luxury of never bothering
to even ask if we were going to be okay with me not playing overseas, or if things might get a little tight. She didn’t have
to concern herself with any of those stresses.
But I didn’t say any of those thoughts.
Instead, I slid my bag over and took a seat.
I just wanted to be comfortable in my own home.
Growing up, no matter how much I did for myself, or how much I stepped up for Mya, being home always had me on edge because my parents seemed to resent the fact they had children.
We’d cramped their lifestyle, and it’d always felt like they’d wanted me to be somewhere else.
I’d hated never being able to relax and instead always had to walk on eggshells.
I wanted peace and harmony in my house, and that always seemed to be just outside of my reach. That motivational bullshit
saying—be the change you want to see—popped into my head.
“Where do y’all normally do brunch?”
“Why?”
Be the change. Be the change. “Have you eaten?”
“I’ve had a little somethin’.”
I worked really hard not to have my attention go to the glass in her hand. “Would you like to go to brunch with me?”
She crossed her arms and rested her hip against the granite countertop of our kitchen island. “Are you givin’ me a pity date?”
“Why are you . . .” I stopped and took a breath. “No, Sasha. I’m trying here. I am. I’m going fuckin’ stir crazy in the house.
I know what I should be doing, where I should be, and adjusting has been hard, so I’m just trying to do what I can to keep
my sanity. And to make sure we keep a roof over our heads and mimosas in your mouth.”
That last part probably would have the opposite effect from the olive branch I was trying to extend, but it’d slipped out
before I could stop it. I was trying to let bygones be bygones and not dwell even if I still had hurt feelings—because a shadow
remained anytime I thought about my biggest professional accomplishment—but my patience with her antics were being tested.
She chewed at the corner of her bottom lip and relaxed her stance. “I, um, we usually go to Mama T’s. So, yes, I would enjoy goin’ on a brunch date with you. Thank you for askin’.”
“You’re welcome. Let me change, because I’m pretty sure I can’t walk up in there in gym shorts and a T-shirt, then we can
head out. Oh, and call Shae to let her know I’m not making it.”
A genuine smile lit up her face. “Okay, I’m goin’ to take Vuitton out then grab my shoes.” Her whole demeanor changed, and
she was practically bouncing. So much so, she didn’t even react to my mimosa comment, which I was thankful for. Her giddiness
to be going out with me made me feel good.
“Okay.”
On the ride over, she held my hand the entire time, explaining her favorite items on the menu. As she talked, I realized I
didn’t know how she spent a lot of her free time when I was gone outside of keeping Phipps in business. But I learned that
she and her friends apparently did brunch on the regular. They went to different places, but Mama T’s was their favorite spot.
I knew she got lonely with how much I traveled, so I was glad to hear she had consistent company outside of Vuitton.
Luckily it wasn’t busy when we arrived. It helped that it was a weekday, and we were after the prime time, as Sasha informed
me. We were able to get seated fairly quickly. The vibe was cool. It was like going to your rich auntie’s house. Jazz music
played, loud enough to rock with it, but not so overpowering that you couldn’t hold a conversation without yelling.
I liked that the tables gave space so that each party wasn’t on top of the other.
I hated going to restaurants where you couldn’t get up from your seat without bumping into the table next to you.
I could see why Sasha and her friends enjoyed coming, and it was a place I wouldn’t mind adding into the rotation.
I’d have to ask Tina if she’d been since she was the foodie of the group.
After we ordered, I took a sip of my OJ and willed myself not to say anything as she drank yet another mimosa. I wanted us
to have a good day out, and she seemed to be in a better mood.
“So, I was texting with Mya earlier, and she was asking about our plans for Thanksgiving.”
“Does she want to come here?”
“Yeah, I got that impression. She’s doing a Friendsgiving before she and her friends go off to their respective families for
the break.”
The server returned with our food. Sasha gave a little clap and danced in her seat when hers was set down and I couldn’t help
but smile at her enthusiasm. We both thanked the guy, and he’d barely walked off before Sasha dug into hers.
“Mm. Mm. Mm. So damn good.” She wiped her mouth and smiled at me. “This is probably my fave thing on the menu. It never misses,
but I think it’s hittin’ more because of my company today.”
I stretched my hand across the table. “Is that right?”
She nodded and intertwined her fingers with mine and started to smile, but bit the corner of her lip to suppress it as she
lowered her gaze down to her plate. Damn she was cute when she pulled the shy act.
I lifted our joined hands to my lips and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Thank you for letting me take you out.”
Sasha flattened her palm against my cheek. “Thank you for askin’ me.” Her honey-brown eyes shimmered and I had to resist the
urge to pull her into my lap and hold her.
After another kiss to her wrist, I turned my attention to my own food to keep myself in check while in public. It did look
good, and my stomach grumbled in agreement.
Sasha frowned. “Were you gonna work out on an empty stomach?”
I pressed my lips together to suppress my own smile as I knew she was about to fuss at me. Shaking my head, I put my hands
up in defense. “No, baby, I promise. I had a protein bar and was gonna stop by Just Juice for their workout smoothie that
I like.”
She kept her eyes narrowed for a beat longer before she shook it off, then took another bite of her eggs Benedict. “If you
say so.”
“Oh, so you don’t trust me now?”
“I mean, your stomach over there soundin’ like an angry bear—” She left the statement hanging, but pinned me with an arched
brow and a smirk.
“Damn, it’s like that, huh?”
She dropped her gaze to my still-untouched plate then set her expectant attention on me. “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a laugh
at her unspoken order.
My eyes damn near rolled back in my head when I took a bite of my fluffy Belgian waffle with powdered sugar and a berry compote.
I’d never been a big breakfast food person, but between this and the cooking Sasha had been doing lately, I was becoming a
convert. Silence descended over our table as we both enjoyed our meals.
“Okay,” Sasha said, picking up the conversation again. “Back to Mya spendin’ Thanksgiving with us. Big Mama enjoyed Mya so
much last time I have no doubt she’ll be thrilled to see her again.”
“Really?”
Sasha lifted a shoulder. “Why do you sound surprised? Big Mama was Big Mama, and she and Mya . . . well, they just clicked. You know Big Mama thinks she’s thirty years younger than she is.
Mya a hundred percent fed into that. They keke’d the whole damn time with Mya corruptin’ my grandma teachin’ her all the new hot lingo. ”
My next bite hovered midair before I started laughing. “She what?”
“She was corruptin’ my Big Mama. Had her talkin’ ’bout ‘delulu,’ and ‘no cap,’ and other nonsense. They was too much.”
The smile on her face broadened the one on mine. I could only imagine Mya and her trying to teach Big Mama slang, especially
knowing Mya’s general high energy. Combine that with Big Mama’s insistence she was still young and spry, and I bet the two
of them were a mess together.
And it was something I’d missed out on. I chewed the inside of my cheek, a strange hollowness rolling through me. Not only
was I not there to be a part of the fun, it was damn near a year later before I was even hearing the story. Of course, I’d
gotten a generic rundown of how things had gone, but clearly not any of the memorable details. Not even from Mya, who’d just
said Sash’s family had been welcoming and she’d had a great time and ate a lot.
I cleared my throat. “So, yeah, guess it’s all good that she comes.”
Sasha nodded as she finished chewing. “Of course. Big Mama’s plannin’ stuff at her house as usual, unless Mom and Dad decide
they want to hold somethin’ at theirs. It is an election year, so photo ops,” she said with an eye roll. “But they haven’t
said nothin’, so probably not.” There was an edge to her voice that was always present when she talked about my in-laws.
In the handful of times I’d been around them they’d seemed nice enough. Way more uptight than I’d expected since I’d met Big
Mama first, but I guess it did make sense considering her dad’s career choice.
“Alright, well, I will let her know right now so I don’t forget.” I whipped out my phone and sent Mya a quick text.
It dawned on me that I hadn’t spent Thanksgiving at home since the first year we were together. I was actually looking forward
to it.
“Why you starin’ at me?”
“’Cuz I can.” Something else dawned on me. I couldn’t remember the last time we were out, just the two of us. “I’m glad we
did this.”
A full grin spread across her face. It was the kind that made me remember how I got here. The kind of grin that put a spotlight
on the earlier times when we first started dating. The grin that was the reason we’d started dating.
We ate, we laughed, and we simply enjoyed each other’s company, easy and relaxed in a way we hadn’t been in a while.
Our courtship had been quick. It’d burned hot and fast. Dating only two months before I spontaneously said we should get married
during an away game in Vegas. We’d won the game, which had been the first after a string of losses, and I’d been feeling the
high. We’d snuck out of the team’s hotel and popped into the twenty-four-hour wedding chapel down the street. Shae and Tina
had thought I was out of my mind, but they’d still come to be witnesses.
The honeymoon phase had been intoxicating. Nothing but rose-colored glasses.
That hadn’t lasted.
But we could get back there.
I wanted us to get back there.