Chapter Twenty-Five
The Ex Effect
Abruptly, I realize Chandra looks different---very different.
Her glitzy clothes and impeccable makeup have been replaced with the kind of stuff you'd expect to see in a run of the mill discount store.
Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail instead of the perfect waves she usually sports, and there are dark circles under her eyes that her barely-there makeup can't hide.
The woman who once refused to be seen without designer labels now wears what looks like Target clearance rack clothing.
"Mike," Chandra hugs herself as she begins, her voice lacking its usual confidence. "I know I shouldn't be here, but---"
"You're right about that," Regan cuts in, stepping slightly in front of me. I place my hand on the small of her back, a silent show of solidarity.
Chandra's gaze drops to our matching rings, and something flickers across her face. Pain? Regret? Hard to tell. "I heard about the wedding. Congratulations, Mike."
"Thanks," I reply stiffly. "But you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"
She gnaws on her upper lip and winces, seeming more fragile than I've ever seen her before.
I take that back. She has never been fragile, period.
Chandra sucks in a deep, shaky breath, then stands up a little straighter.
"I met someone. He's wonderful and gets me in every possible way, like we were made for each other. "
"Hey, Chandra, that's great. I'm happy for you."
She bows her head in an almost sheepish way. "I hope you won't be angry about this."
My brows hike up. "Why on earth would I be mad that you found someone special?"
"Um, it's because this man, he---he's a pro football player like you."
I still can't figure out what she's getting at. "You'll need to explain why I should care about that."
"Well, um...he's one of your teammates."
I stare at Chandra as my jaw goes slack. One of my teammates? My brain scrambles to process this information while Regan's posture stiffens beside me. I can practically feel the temperature drop several degrees. At least her new guy isn't Ivan Brasher.
"Who's your guy? I'm must know him he's one of my friends."
"It's Devin." Chandra wrings her hands. "Devin Carstairs."
"Carstairs?" I repeat, dumbfounded by this revelation. Our rookie wide receiver? The guy's barely old enough to drink legally. "He's like twelve years old, Chandra."
"He's twenty-three," she corrects me with an unexpected flash of her old defensive fire. "And very mature for his age."
I can't squelch the snort that bursts out of me. Carstairs is a talented player, sure, but the kid still puts ketchup on his steak and spent most of last week debating which Marvel superhero could beat Superman. Hardly what I'd call "mature."
"How did you two meet?" I ask, flailing for a handhold or something I can wrap my head. The idea of Chandra and Carstairs together is...bewildering.
Chandra smiles almost dreamily as she talks about Carstairs. "We met at one of the team parties last season." She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "We stayed in touch, and after you and I...um, after everything, he reached out."
Regan shifts her weight beside me, her arm pressing against mine. I can feel the tension radiating from her body. Is my wife not buying Chandra's little story? I can't blame her, and I'm slightly suspicious too.
"That still doesn't explain why you knocked on our door," Regan reminds her. "On our wedding day."
Chandra's eyes dart between us. "I wanted to clear the air before training camp starts. Devin is worried about how this might affect his position on the team."
The words hang in the air like a bad joke. I find myself laughing, which really isn't the right reaction, lean against the doorframe. "Let me get this straight. You're dating our rookie wide receiver, and you're worried I might...what? Sabotage his career because you two are together?"
Chandra shrugs, avoiding my gaze. "When you put it like that, it sounds childishly ridiculous."
"Because it is ridiculous," Regan interjects. "Mike isn't that kind of person."
God, I love my wife. She's amazing.
My wife. I'm still getting used to that.
I blow out a gusty breath, letting my shoulders sag. "Look, what happened between us is in the past. I'm married now---happily married." I squeeze Regan's hand. "I'm not going to penalize Devin for dating you. That would be unprofessional and petty."
"Oh." Chandra blinks, seeming genuinely surprised. "Well, that's...that's good to hear."
An awkward silence stretches between us. I'm acutely aware of Regan's body against mine, the weight of our new rings, and the absolute absurdity of having this conversation with my ex on what should be the first day of our honeymoon.
"Are you leaving now?" Regan asks, her patience clearly wearing thin. "This is our honeymoon, you know."
"Of course. I swear I'm leaving in a minute." Chandra hesitates, then reaches into her purse and pulls out a small gift bag. "I came here to give you this. It's a wedding present."
Eyeing the bag suspiciously, I wonder what my ex picked out for me and my wife. Knowing Chandra, it might contain anything from a thoughtful gift to a glitter bomb designed to ruin our carpets. But Regan grabs it before I can stop her.
"Thank you," she says coolly, snatching up the small bag and holding it between two fingers.
"I should go," Chandra announces at last, already backing away. "I hope we cleared things up and can be friends now."
"We'll consider that and let you know." I'm ready to shut this bizarre chapter of my life for good. "Tell Carstairs I said hi. And that we're still doing those extra passing drills when camp starts."
A ghost of a smile touches Chandra's lips. "I will. And congratulations again. You guys are perfect together."
Regan and I watch as Chandra walks down the hallway toward the elevator. Only when the doors close behind her do we step back inside and shut our door.
"Whew." I swipe a hand across my forehead, leaning against the wall. "That was unexpected."
Regan sets the gift bag on the kitchen counter and stares at it, arms crossed. "Should we open it or burn it?"
I wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. "Depends. How much do you trust my ex not to try to sabotage our first day as an officially married couple?"
Regan leans back against me. "About as far as I could throw Bohdan after he's had a full Christmas dinner."
I snort. "So not at all."
"Let's just take a peek," she decides, tugging at the tissue paper. "If it's something awful, we can always use it as evidence when we file for a restraining order."
I watch my wife as she carefully extracts a small velvet box from the bag. Regan's eyes meet mine briefly before she clicks the box open. We both stare at what's inside.
A small silver key with a tag attached.
"What the hell?" I mutter, as Regan carefully lifts it out.
She flips the tag over with her fingers. "It says 'Storage Unit 247, CityStore, Portland.' And there's a note."
Regan unfolds the small piece of paper tucked underneath. She scans its contents quickly, then she hands it to me without comment.
"Mike and Regan," I read aloud. "This is the key to where I've been storing some of your football memorabilia from our time together.
Game balls, signed jerseys, those special cleats from your first playoff win.
I kept them when I shouldn't have. They belong to you.
Congratulations on finding your perfect match. ---C"
I set the note down, looking at Regan with surprise. "That's...actually decent of her."
Regan turns the key over in her palm, while her brows knit together. "Or it's a trap. Maybe there's nothing there but an empty room with a banner that says 'Suckers!'"
I laugh, but I can tell she's only half-joking. "Want me to check it out alone first?"
She shakes her head. "No way. If we're going to walk into whatever this is, we're doing it together." She sets the key back in its box and places it on the counter. "But not today. Today is about us."
Can't argue with that logic. Whatever game Chandra might be playing, it can wait. I pull Regan closer and settle my hands on her hips. "So where were we before somebody so rudely interrupted?"
"I was thinking it was time to christen our new place."
And just like that, Chandra and her weird gift are forgotten. I carry my wife into our bedroom, which still has boxes stacked in the corner waiting to be unpacked.
Later, as we lie tangled in our sheets, Regan's head lies on my chest while I trace lazy patterns on her bare shoulder with my fingers. I can't help thinking about Chandra's unexpected appearance. Whatever she's up to, I'm sure we'll learn the answer soon enough.