46. Brent
46
Brent
T he night passes at the speed of a snail, Joey’s words echoing in the deepest parts of my soul. And yet, as I lie alone in my bed—again—I don’t like it. I sigh and stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts going immediately back to what she said last night.
“You think I want to stay with someone who’s always injured and who’s about to hit the end of his career?”
I’d gone numb when she first uttered those words. I couldn’t fathom how the only woman that I’d been with for more than a few nights since Caitlyn turned out to be exactly like her. Joey stayed with me until I recovered from my injury but left me when the sports headlines screamed overrated, injury-prone, and time for another trade. Had she used the excuse of not being able to trust me in order to leave me?
Did she think she’d seen the writing on the wall and decided to cut her losses and hook a bigger fish? After all, Lucien Saint is the franchise quarterback, the face of the team since the beginning, and his contract is worth a hell of a lot more than mine.
I try to think of words or actions that show Joey is who she’s always been—a sweet, innocent woman whom I seduced, albeit at her request. And every time, the demons inside me cast doubt and give a different connotation to each of her words and actions.
When the sky finally starts to lighten, I fling off the sheet and get up. I need a run to clear my head. Before I finish dressing, my phone rings.
Who the fuck is calling before the ass crack of dawn? For a second I hope it’s Joey. Shaking my head in disgust at my weakness, I glance at the screen and see it’s my agent.
“Why are you calling this early, Scott? Don’t you sleep?”
“I guess you haven’t seen this morning’s headlines if you’re asking me that. I never knew your life was a soap opera. I bet I can secure a fantastic deal on a reality show from this.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I grab the remote from the nightstand and turn the TV on.
“Let me read you one. Saint and Hutchinson in Love Triangle. And here’s a good one: Who’s the Baby Daddy? ”
I pause in my channel surfing, trying to find a news channel that isn’t airing commercials.
“Shit.” It sounds like Caitlyn has followed through on her threats despite the test results. Or…what did Scott say…? A good deal on a reality show…Of course! She had been in LA talking to some producers about a reality show. She must be looking to create drama or publicity or…Who the fuck knows with that bitch?
But shouldn’t it be Paul Evers in the headlines? What does Saint have to do with Caitlyn?
“These are only short bits in the gossip rags, so it’s up to you if you want to put out any kind of statement.”
“The only statement I want to make is for everyone to mind their own fucking business.”
“Okay. So that’s ‘no comment,’” Scott replies dryly. “I didn’t know Saint and your physical therapist friend were a thing. For that matter, I didn’t know the two of you were either. I thought that was baseless gossip—”
“What? Joey?” I’m lost. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“One of the articles claims she’s pregnant and that it’s either yours or Saint’s.”
All the air leaves my lungs. Joey is pregnant? How is that possible?
I think back to the morning I had sex with her in the shower without a condom and how she shrugged it off. She said she was on birth control and expecting her period, but she’d left me only a couple of days later. Did it ever come? Or maybe she was hoping all along something would come of it so she could trap me.
Had she been playing some version of hard to get to lure me into something more permanent—like a wedding ring and fifty percent of everything I own?
Either yours or Saint’s , Scott said.
No, it couldn’t be. She’d left me less than two weeks ago. If she were anyone else, I’d think she’d already been hedging her bets when I got injured the first time. Like Caitlyn. But this is Joey.
“I’m not taking money from you I didn’t earn. I’d feel like I was earning it on my back.”
“Hutch? You still there?”
I shake my head. I need to think. “Send me the articles. I want to read them myself.”
“You got it. I’ll call the PR team and tell them to stick to ‘no comment.’”
I stare at my phone until Scott’s text comes through with the links. I click on the one about the baby daddy first. It’s a brief paragraph accompanied by photos.
Josefina Desai, former assistant trainer for the Firebirds football team and personal therapist to tight end Brent Hutchinson, was spotted in a maternity shop recently. Rumors swirled that she was living with Hutchinson and their relationship was a more personal one, though the delicious baller denied it. He has also denied reuniting with his ex-girlfriend Caitlyn Evers. Perhaps both things are true, because Evers was seen leaving a charity event last night with MLB player husband Paul (is there a reconciliation in the works?). Desai was in the arms of another tasty Firebirds member, quarterback Lucien Saint, at the same event. She was seen sharing an intimate moment outside his home not long ago in the West Village (photo on left), and again at last night’s gala event (photo below) to raise money for community sports for underprivileged youths. She was stunning in a sexy black halter-top gown that showed no hint of a baby bump. Desai said she was wearing an original design by her “extremely talented friend and next big name in fashion, Andi Smith, the owner of Andi’s Designs in Greenwich, Connecticut.”
I scroll to the referenced photos. There’s one of Joey and Luc embracing outside his house. What the fuck? That was the day she left me. I remember because she ran out without a jacket, wearing only the V-neck T-shirt I loved to see on her. She left me and literally went straight into Saint’s arms.
The second link is more of a can-you-guess gossip item, giving only hints of the people being gossiped about without actually naming them, likely to protect the paper from lawsuits. But those who have a clue would know right away.
I really need a run now. I’m about to head out when I remember I’m not supposed to run yet because of the stitches. And the damn reporters are probably camped at the front door by now. Are they at Saint’s too? Or following Joey around? She’d be mortified at being the center of attention, in the public eye.
Then I remember her words from the night before. How many reminders do I need that the Joey I thought I knew is gone? She’s morphed into someone I no longer recognize. She probably wants the attention now. After all, she attended a well-covered event with a bigger celebrity than me, dressed like that . Like she wanted to be seen.
It makes whatever trouble she might have with reporters Saint’s problem now. I think back to the photo of her in his arms, and my heart squeezes painfully.
I wander around my apartment, waiting until it’s time to leave for practice, stuck inside what’s supposed to be my haven. Except it isn’t anymore because everywhere I look, I see Joey. In the kitchen, making meals. In the gym area, guiding me through my therapy exercises. In front of the windows, where she loved to stare out at the city. And in my bedroom, on my bed, where I spent endless hours with her, holding her, making love to her. Yes, making love.
But scanning the penthouse, I realize there isn’t any actual physical reminder of her, except the beautiful metallic artwork on the wall that she bought for me my birthday. Even while she lived here, everything was always put away…as if she’d been a temporary guest who never fully unpacked. Her clothes were always confined to several drawers and a small portion of my huge walk-in closet. And the bathroom countertop never had any of the usual clutter a woman might keep.
I pull open a drawer in the bathroom and find most of her things still there…a hairbrush, hair ties, makeup, and several bottles of who knows what. She hardly took anything with her, and she hasn’t called to pick up the rest of her things. Because Saint replaced it all for her?
Unable to go running to clear my tortured thoughts, I start a punishing core workout. I hate doing ab work. A knock sounds on my door as I’m finishing my second set of oblique crunches. I’m relieved to be interrupted, and I put aside the heavy weight plate.
Since the concierge would call up if someone came into the building to visit me, I assume it’s either CJ or Niko. I open the door and am shocked to find Joey and Charlie instead.
“Can we come inside, Brent?” Charlie asks, breaking the moment between me and Joey as we stare at each other in silence.
“Why?”
Joey flinches at my abrupt question but quietly says, “I’d like to apologize, Brent.”
That’s not what I was expecting. My heart starts to soften, desperate to fix what’s broken between us so we can get back to where we left off before it all blew up.
Then my cynicism gives my heart a kick in the ass. What’s her angle now?
“Uh-huh. What exactly are you apologizing for, Joey?”
Her breath hitches. I realize it’s the first time since San Diego that I haven’t called her Josie. She bites her lip but doesn’t look away when she answers. “For everything. For the unforgivable things I said last night. For not trusting you…”
She takes a deep breath and hesitantly reaches out to take my hand. I want to shake it off but I can’t. I crave her too much.
“What I said about not wanting to be with you because of your injuries and career…I didn’t mean any of it. Charlie told me she suspected that’s why Caitlyn broke up with you in college. So I said it to hurt you.” She squeezes my hand and brings it to her mouth to kiss the knuckles so sweetly, I almost forgive her for everything right then and there.
“I’m truly sorry and I hope you can find some way to forgive me. I know we can’t…we can’t go back to…to what we had before, but I hope we can still be friends.”
Her voice breaks on the last word, and her eyes fill with tears.
“Come on, Brent,” Charlie urges. “Let’s take this conversation inside.”
I step aside, my hand still clasped with Joey’s. Charlie enters first, heading for the kitchen and a stool at the bar. Joey follows but our joined hands stop her, our arms stretched out between us since I haven’t moved from the door. She appears as reluctant as I to break our connection, yet I let her go anyway.
I turn to close the door, then follow Joey as she sits next to Charlie while I go to the opposite side to face them. With a blank face, I cross my arms and stay silent, waiting for one of them to speak.
Joey’s emotions are all over her face. Trepidation. Sadness. Hope. And love, something that she often expressed when she thought I wasn’t looking, but that I caught every once in a while before she turned away to hide it. It used to make me uncomfortable, so I stupidly ignored it.
She’s not looking away this time. Everything she feels is laid out bare for me to see. The reconstructed barrier around my heart starts to crumble. Of course it would. It was shoddily rebuilt overnight from the pieces she’d taken apart the last few months. She’d torn the walls down and grabbed my heart with both hands.
“Josie,” I murmur, my voice conveying a mix of emotions—sorrow, tenderness, regret…
Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Okay,” I give in. “I’ll start.” I reach into the drawer where I store my mail and pull out two folded pieces of paper and slide them across to her. She hesitates before taking them, her eyes on me. “What is it?”
“Read it, baby.”
She opens the first, frowning when she tries to figure out what the column of numbers on the paternity test results mean.
“The other page,” I tell her.
Flipping to the second paper, her gaze skims over the paragraph. Her eyes widen in shock, filled with questions that she can’t seem to form.
Charlie grabs the papers from Joey and skims over them. “This is a paternity test saying you’re not the father. Who tried to claim you were?” she demands.
I ignore Charlie and focus on Joey’s face. “The day you…left me,” I explain, “Caitlyn came by. Actually, let me back up.” I run my hand through my hair and collect my thoughts before beginning again. “She called me before, on that day you were upset about the photo going around on social media. It was the first time she ever mentioned that I might be…” It was still hard to say the words. “That her daughter might be mine.”
Joey’s eyes widen in shock.
Taking a deep breath, I continue. “She wanted me to put in a custody claim for the girl, whom I’ve never met, and without any proof. A part of me was hoping she was just playing games, but most of me was terrified that it was true. And a very small part of me was thinking, if it was true, I’m glad I didn’t know back then.”
I don’t look away from Joey when I admit to the shameful thought. Her lids flicker, but she keeps her gaze steady on me.
“I don’t know what I would have done ten years ago. The thought of being responsible for another—”
“I know what you would have done,” she interjects. “I know you would have done the right thing, no matter how difficult it was. You would have worked even harder than you already were to make sure the baby was taken care of. Because that’s who you are.”
I shake my head, filled with regret that I didn’t trust in her enough to tell her. “I should have told you right away. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I was afraid,” I admit.
“Did you really need a test to tell you that bitch was lying through her teeth?” Charlie chimes in, reminding me she’s still here. I’m amazed she’s stayed quiet for this long.
“I needed to be sure for my own piece of mind,” I explain, recalling my conversation with Paul Evers.
“She’s the dumbest person alive, thinking she could get away with it.”
“Or desperate,” Joey says. “You must be so relieved.”
“To say the least. With this indisputable proof, she’s out of my life forever. Our lives.” I straighten, my arms crossed again. “Your turn now. What the ever-loving fuck was all that with Saint last night?”
She flushes and bites her lip, but doesn’t look away. “Brent, I didn’t mean any of what I said. Even if you stopped playing tomorrow, I wouldn’t care. And I’m not with Luc and never have been.”
“And yet your mouth was on him,” I say, unable to keep the anger and bitterness out of my voice.
“Luc kissed you?” Charlie asks, her eyes narrowed.
Joey flushes. “ I kissed him.” She lowers her head in embarrassment. “I’ll have to apologize to him too, for basically assaulting him.” She flicks her gaze between me and Charlie. “He stood frozen in shock, poor guy. I…” She glances at me, her eyes full of apology. “I was trying to prove to you I had moved on like you did.”
“Like I did? What the fuck are you talking about?” Why the hell would she think such a thing when I’d been calling her nonstop?
She bites her lip and looks away again. “I saw a photo of you kissing a woman who was sitting on your lap.”
I close my eyes in disgust. At myself for allowing that to happen by getting drunk. For my intention to fuck another woman because I was angry. “Baby, I have no idea who she was. She plopped down on my lap, planted her mouth on mine, and took a selfie.” My lips twitch. “You could say I was assaulted.”
Her blush deepens and she groans.
“In total honesty,” I continue, “I had every intention of moving on that night. I was mad as hell at you for taking off, for refusing to take my calls after. But I had to be drunk if I was going to carry out that plan. Still, I couldn’t do it. I ended up taking a four-hundred-dollar cab ride to see you that night, only to find you with some man’s hand on your bare skin.”
The memory of it still burns. I glare at her. “And the next time I saw you, Saint’s hand was practically on your ass.”
“That’s my fault,” Charlie confesses. “I told her to go with someone else to make you jealous. I had a hunch it would kick your ass into gear. It worked, didn’t it?” She grins in self-congratulations.
“Okay, now that we have that settled, what’s with the pregnancy rumors? Are you pregnant?” I ask.
Joey’s eyes widen in shock.
“What?” Charlie exclaims.
“There are rumors Joey’s pregnant. She was shopping for maternity clothes.”
Joey and Charlie look at each other. Joey takes Charlie’s hand and they both turn to me. My heart starts racing, afraid of what they’re about to tell me.
“Because she was buying a gift for me.”
Confused, I stare at Charlie, who sighs in exasperation when I stare blankly at her. “ I’m pregnant.”
It takes me a few more seconds to process her words. “What the fuck!”
“It’s okay, Brent,” Charlie says calmly. “I’m almost twenty-six, not sixteen. I’m not telling you so you can shoulder the responsibility for me. I’m telling you because I can’t have you believing all that crap in the paper about Joey and—” She stops abruptly then adds, “You’re going to be an uncle.”
I recover from my shock long enough to ask, “Who’s the guy?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s well-known, and he doesn’t want anyone knowing yet.”
“Why? Is he denying he’s the father? He better not,” I bite out savagely, forgetting that was my first knee-jerk response to Caitlyn. “He has a responsibility to you and the kid.”
“The baby daddy is not going anywhere,” she assures me. “And I’m as much to blame for this as he is.” Charlie walks around to me and raises her hands to cups my face, love for me shining in her gray eyes. “This baby is not your responsibility, so stop thinking the stuff I can see going through your head right now. I mean it. You’ve done everything for us since Dad died, but you don’t need to anymore. I’m good and I can handle this.”
“I know you got this, Charlie, but don’t forget Aunt Joey will always be there too.”
Charlie smiles at Joey with gratitude, circling the island again to hug her. “Of course not, sweetie. You’re the fairy godmother, remember? Just like we talked about when we were kids.”
My thoughts and emotions are all over the place. I look at Joey and focus on her. “If you two are done now, could you take a hike, Charlie? I need to talk to Josie. Go down to CJ’s place for an hour or so.”
When Charlie turns to Joey for permission to leave, I hold my breath until Joey nods.
“Okay, I’ll go,” she says. “I have someplace else I need to be anyway.”
“Alright, I’ll catch up with you later. And if you’re happy about the baby, then congratulations.” I give her a one-armed hug and kiss the top of her head when she lets go of Joey.
When the door closes after Charlie’s departure, Joey and I stare at each other in silence.