Chapter 37
BUSTED PLAY: OFFENSIVE MISCOMMUNICATION LEADING TO CHAOS.
As exciting as this has been, I’m ready to drag Troy back to our room.
Judging by the look in his eyes, he’s of the same mind.
We clasp hands and climb the stairs to reach the club level when we’re stopped by a black-suited security officer wearing an earpiece.
“Mr. Walsh? Ma’am? I’m Daryl. The Lightning coach has requested you both join the team in the locker room. ”
Troy asks what I’m thinking. “Seriously?”
“The invite came from the coach himself,” Daryl confirms.
I bump Troy’s arm. “Guess we’ve been upgraded from spectators with decent seats.”
He gives me a penetrating look. “You sure you’re up for this?” What he’s leaving unsaid is, Are you up to seeing Bryce?
I shrug. “I have nothing to hide. So long as he doesn’t make a scene, I’ll play nice.”
He deadpans, “We’re doomed.”
“Pretty much,” I chirp, thinking of all the desperate emails Bryce has sent me. “But I’ll still attempt to face him with dignity, which is more than he can say.”
Troy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lead on.”
“You’ll need these,” Daryl hands us two green badges, which we slip over our heads. After we do, we follow him through a side door, down a flight of stairs and suddenly, we’re out on Wembley field.
I stop dead in my tracks. My fingers, clutched in Troy’s, break free.
Realizing we’ve been separated, Troy calls out to Daryl to wait. “What is it, Maya?”
“This…this is just not something I ever expected to be doing. Standing in a place where so many iconic photos have been taken. I mean, England had its first World Cup win here. Queen took the stage here during Live Aid. The Olympics, the NFL’s first game, Taylor Swift.
” I rub my arms as chills race through me.
“How about we take one more?” Pulling out his cell, Troy unlocks it and hands it to Daryl. Wrapping his arms around me, he presses his forehead into mine. “I may be ahead of you, but I’m falling for you, Maya Cox.”
Throwing my arms around his waist, I whisper back. “Only you could make me believe in love again, Troy Walsh.”
He squeezes me close. We remain locked together until Daryl clears his throat. “I took five, six, maybe twenty?”
Troy shakes his hand. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem. Let’s get you guys to the team.”
Troy takes my hand again, and we follow Daryl the rest of the way into the tunnel. The deeper we go, the noise we thought we left behind intensifies. There’s music being piped in and very out of tune voices singing along with it.
When the locker room door opens, it’s bedlam. Players shout, music blasts from a speaker perched precariously on a bench, champagne arcs through the air in glittering sprays. Reporters hover near the corners, phones out.
Then someone spots us. “Holy shit — is that Troy with Maya?”
The music cuts off abruptly. Heads turn, and I catch each and every look.
From the press, there’s nothing but the hunger for a good story.
I mentally dismiss them. But from the players, some show definite respect.
From those who partook in the night that tried to break me, there’s a quiet resignation before they turn away—as if they know that despite their win, they don’t deserve to breathe in my air.
Clearly, the repercussions of their actions left a mark.
Good.
Coach pushes through the crowd, grinning wide. “Walsh! Good to see you.”
“Always happy to support you—when I’m able to.” Troy’s words have a deeper meaning than what he’s saying.
Judging from Coach’s expression, he knows it. “And I want you to know I appreciate that. You could have…” His voice trails off and his expression softens when he catches sight of me. “Well, look who it is. I was hoping we’d run into one another someday, Maya. ”
“Good to see you, Coach,” I offer my hand.
“Didn’t think you’d ever set foot near this circus again,” he admits, shaking it. “Glad you did.”
I check Troy with my hip before smiling up at him. “Blame him. I do.”
Troy murmurs, “Usually when coffee isn’t available at your disposal, uvetta mia.”
Coach is gaping at the two of us. But before I can retort, the locker room door slams open behind us. Coach immediately cautions Troy, “Don’t start something.”
The news crews immediately start filming. Great, that can only mean one thing.
Bryce is here.
He shoulders his way past his teammates until he’s right in front of me and Troy. Ignoring the man standing next to me, Bryce demands, “Maya, why won’t you answer my emails? And him? Is he your way of punishing me?”
I jut out my chin. “Don’t flatter yourself, Bryce. I came for the game, not a stroll down Cheater’s Lane.”
Despite the muffled laughter from his teammates, Bryce recovers quickly. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You do love cameras.”
“Yeah, when I’m the one holding them,” I retort.
I tap my chin. “Oh, you must not have seen my latest spreads in National Geographic or Travel + Leisure. I guess I understand why, since you were too busy trying to save your reputation after you admitted to cheating on me for the whole of our relationship.”
Pure steel has replaced the softness in my voice.
The room falls utterly silent.
Bryce approaches, jaw tight. “Maya, maybe we can go somewhere and talk?”
“No. You publicly humiliated me, so you don’t get to treat anything about us like there’s unfinished business. You cheated, lied, and when it all blew up, you know what I never received?”
“What’s that, uvetta mia?” Troy asks my unanswered question because everyone else is afraid of the storm brewing in front of them.
I cast my eyes in his direction. “A public apology. Granted from this worthless…being…it wouldn’t have meant much, but he hid behind a PR machine. Half the world apologized for him and his lack of morals, but he never once stood up and said, ‘Yes. I did this, and it was wrong.’”
“I apologized in email,” Bryce smirks, as if that’s his trump card. His ace in the hole.
“Funny you should bring that up, because I’ve got your recent emails memorized.” I cock my head to the side and question my ex-fiancé. “Should I quote a few? You’ve been so sorrowful, it’s almost poetic.”
Troy fails miserably at hiding a snort behind a cough.
Bryce glares at him until I bring his attention back to me by clearing my throat.
Folding my arms across my chest, my foot taps out an even beat on the concrete floor.
“Where to start…where to start…Ah! How about I quote just one?” Clutching my hands dramatically to my heart, I quote, “‘It wasn’t what you thought. Just give me a chance. I can’t stop thinking about you…
us. I’d like to see if there’s a chance to fix things. ’”
A murmur ripples through the locker room. One lineman mutters, “Damn, the game’s over and QB’s still taking a sack.”
“Maya, we have history. We can work through this,” Bryce pleads.
That’s when I narrow my eyes and decimate him with one brutal slice. “But Bryce. I’m not pretty, and I’m no longer loyal. At least not to you.”
Bryce opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. The silence that follows is brutal.
Coach’s “Stupid fool” is clearly heard. Troy moves closer in case I need him, but I hold up my hand. I’m not done with this pathetic worthlessness my country idolizes for his ability to throw a ball. It shouldn’t excuse who he is as a man.
And for a while, it didn’t.
“No matter what you say or how you say it, there’s nothing you could do to salvage even a piece of who we were. I refuse to let anything about you define any part of who I am—most especially since your opinion about my looks, my job, and my self-worth means absolute rubbish. Is that understood?”
Bryce doesn’t answer.
“But you forgot something. This—me and Troy being here? It wasn’t about you until you made it about you. It’s about what Troy and I are starting. Together.” I declare aloud to the entire room, not caring if the press can hear me.
Bryce opens his mouth and snaps it shut before stalking off toward the showers, his cleats angrily striking the tile.
I don’t watch him go. I just exhale, slowly, shoulders relaxing as the noise of the locker room rises again.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Troy murmurs.
I look up at him, my anger softening into something lighter. “What’s the worst I could do to you? Cook?”
He lowers his voice so only I can hear when he whispers in my ear. I blush bright red at the reminder that my cooking isn’t as much of a punishment as withholding myself.
My rose-colored cheeks are ignored as the players return to celebrating their win. Coach, who has known Troy forever and me since I was first with Bryce, slaps him on the back. “And here I just wanted to say hello and see how you were doing.”
Troy wraps his arm around me, pulling me close to his side. “As you can see, we’re both doing well.”
“That’s an understatement, son. Always good to see you, Maya.” Coach’s eyes twinkle into mine before he lowers his voice to confide, “And while I can never say this officially, I hope you know you traded up, girl!”
As he walks off, I turn to Troy, exhaling. “Well, wasn’t that fun?”
He pulls me closer and chuckles. “Could’ve gone worse.”
“It could have?”
He recounts, “You just verbally body-slammed the quarterback in front of most major news outlets, the team, half the coaching staff, trainers, and most—if not all of them—cheered you on. I’d call that a win.”
I laugh, the sound shaky. “I didn’t plan to say any of that.”
“Maybe not. But you meant every word.”
“Yeah,” I admit quietly. “I did.”
Later on, social media will blow up speculating about the quarterback’s ex leaving the Lightning’s locker room with their former kicker, whose family owns one of the most sought-after vineyards in Italy.
There will be rumors about whether Troy was with me before I left Bryce.
Rumors if I cheated with him while still together with the Lightning QB1.
We know that’s not what really happened.
What the pictures show is me holding hands with the man who is not afraid of stepping into a future with me while I feel unashamed, unbroken, unafraid.
And willing to wait for me to chance falling in love.