Chapter Twenty-Six #2
Wilkes talked animatedly with his hands, leaning forward at the last second to squeeze Remy’s upper arm while they all laughed.
The camaraderie was more than she’d ever experienced at any given moment with her boss, as if they were all equals, brothers-in-arms. There was no scenario her mind could conjure where Remy meeting with those two would ever benefit her.
He hadn’t told her.
Why wouldn’t he tell her? She understood Wilkes not saying a word. He was looking for any way to get her off the school payroll. Remy was supposed to have her back, always.
He’d said always and no matter what.
Marcee pulled out of the parking lot as quietly as possible and turned into the first driveway she passed. He had an explanation. He must. She would give him a chance to explain.
With shaking hands, she pulled out her cell phone and sent him a text.
What’re you up to?
She waited, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as her phone sat unresponsive in her lap. Come on, Remy. Answer.
After what felt like an eternity, her phone pinged.
Just finishing up a run. Long day. Enjoying your beef and
broccoli?
“Damn it, Remy!” she cried, slamming her fist on the wheel.
How could he do it? She managed to set aside the fact that he never told her who he saw in London over Christmas break.
She’d pushed aside the need to nag him relentlessly about their future, even though it was as murky as a pond in the height of summer and she had a right to know what and where they would be.
She’d been living off their love like it was a miracle drug, capable of curing anything, including their shared flaws.
Everything was crashing down.
Time crept by as she sat in the driveway of a closed embroidery store, staring through the windshield at a cross-stitched pillow that said, “I swear like a fucking lady.”
Two unanswered texts from Remy.
A missed call from Alex.
Countless tears and curses.
Betrayal didn’t really have a limit.
Finally, Marcee swiped her eyes with a tissue from the glovebox and backed out, leaving the school in her rearview.
Nothing had gone as planned during the school year.
Her whole life was upended, and she’d met the challenges head on, rolling from one punch to the next.
Even though the betrayal felt like a knockout, she knew she could do the same.
She could get back up and keep fighting.
She just had to want it. The problem was, she had to figure out what “it” was.
Sunday evening rolled around, the night before arguably the most important game of Marcee’s life. She should be at home, mentally preparing herself and going over a game plan with Nicole. Or at the very least, relaxing with a beer.
Instead, she sat in her car outside of Remy’s house, working up the nerve to go in and confront him.
She’d put him off since Friday with a text here or there, but they had standing plans for dinner that night—plans she hadn’t cancelled. She needed to hear him say it. She needed to hear him admit to her that he had a clandestine meeting with her boss and coworker, then lied about it.
It was go time. Nothing to it but to do it.
After a quick rap on the front door, she let herself in, afraid if she waited on the front porch, she’d lose her nerve.
“You’re early!”
“Where are you?” she called out.
“Kitchen!”
Marcee made her way to the back corner of the house, stomach heaving at the scent of meat and herbs.
“Remy, we need to talk.” She rounded the corner from the dining room, stopping short. Why did some men look so good in an apron?
“Let me get this steak out of the oven to rest. One second, love.”
She watched his careful, practiced movements, soaking in a last minute of normalcy before it all imploded. Although she guessed it already had.
“There,” he said, tossing aside his oven mitts and turning. “Wine?”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay.” As Remy untied his apron, he eyed her, head cocked to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“I saw you,” she blurted out. Loud and aggressive, her tone caused him to flinch. She barreled forward, committed. “I saw you on Friday when I was leaving work. Why were you meeting with my boss and Graham?”
Tell me I’m delusional. Tell me anything that will make sense and mean you didn’t betray me.
Perspiration broke out on her back and palms as her heart rate increased. She loathed confrontation.
“Marcee,” he began, sighing heavily and leaning against the counter. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
She barked out a laugh, hoarse and bitter.
“How convenient.” The doorframe was a good brace for her shoulders, holding her up and keeping her grounded.
“It’s true.”
“What was it about?”
Marcee had to hand it to him—he had balls. He never broke eye contact as he said, “A job offer.” Still, the words cut through her, wounding her and kindling her rage all in one gash.
She shook her head, trying not to cry or scream or throw something at his head. “Why would you ever take an interview for my job position? Why? Does what we have mean nothing to you?”
“I did it for you!” he spat, flinging his hand in the space between them. It felt like miles.
“How could it possibly be for me?” she cried, throwing her hands in the air.
When he pushed away from the counter and stepped forward, she backed up, keeping the distance between them.
She didn’t trust either of them in that moment.
All it would take is one brush of his hand and she’d crumble.
Sheer grit and stubbornness were the only things holding together her eggshell exterior.
“Don’t play daft, Marcee. You know they’re going to fire you. You’re not going to fulfill the conditions of your contract and you’re going to be replaced.” His hands splayed across his chest. “I was going to the mat for you, love. If they want me, you are part of that deal. They have to keep you.”
A hysterical giggle burst out of her. It was even worse than she thought. In less than sixty seconds, he’d diminished everything she’d worked toward. He’d diminished her.
“Oh, so let me get this straight. You assume I have no chance of beating you tomorrow, which means I won’t fulfill the winning season clause in my contract.
Since this is already written in stone, you decided to swoop in like some knight in shining armor and save my job.
Did I get that correct?” She paced forward.
“But wait! There’s more! Obviously, you’ll be head coach for my team, which means I’ll get the honor of working beneath you, as your assistant coach.
Wow! Am I lucky or what? I’ll learn so much! ”
He reached for her, but she slapped his hand.
“No, don’t touch me.”
She might as well have slapped his face. He drew back, a pained expression contorting his features.
“It’s not like that, Marcee. I was trying to save things, make sure we could still be here, together, doing what we love.
Do you think I haven’t thought about the next few months?
It’s all I’ve thought about, wondering if we could keep it together if I go back to London or you move somewhere else.
I want to keep us together and that’s the whole of it. I love you. I wouldn’t betray you.”
The words “be here” and “together” registered in a small part of her brain that wasn’t consumed with anger and sadness.
“But you did!” she shouted, forcing back tears.
“And it wasn’t the moment you accepted the meeting.
You’ve never had faith in me or my coaching abilities.
That’s the betrayal, Remy. You don’t believe in me, and you don’t respect me as a competitor.
That’s so much worse.” She lurched from the kitchen, fighting with her keys to get them out of her pocket.
She needed Alex and Freddie and home. They were her home.
They would always be her home. “I guess in the end it doesn’t matter.
Take my job—it’s yours. I’ve got a coaching offer from Eli in New York, and I can be on the first flight out of Asheville the moment school lets out.
At least he respects what I can bring to the table. ”
“I don’t give a damn about some man in New York, and frankly, I’m tired of the silent comparisons.
I’m more perceptive than you think, Marcee.
” His footsteps were right behind her. “I don’t even care about the job at Pemberton, or at Alpha.
I would coach anywhere, if it meant being with you.
I wanted to fix things. Isn’t that what good partners do?
Don’t walk away from us because you’re scared and angry, Marcee.
I’m not the only one who lied, and the least you can do is hear me out. Marcee!”
She threw open the front door but stopped.
The night she ran away from Eli after prom, she was scared and hurt.
She was scared of letting someone get close to her and falling back into her old ways.
She was scared of being held back. Then she ran away after his accident, scared of a whole slew of other things.
Had nothing changed in six years? Was she still that girl who couldn’t face things when it got tough?
“Fine,” Remy said, standing in the doorway. “Since we’re being transparent, I guess I should probably tell you I saw Lola when I was in London.” Marcee’s back stiffened and he paused, then added, “Would hate for that to come back and bite me in the arse, too. You wanted honesty? You got it.”
It was exceptionally cruel, even if part of her always knew. She knew something happened in London. The socialite was always there between them.
There was no room for fear in Marcee’s heart, though, not when it was already in pieces.
“Fuck you. I’m not scared, Remy.” She couldn’t look back. “I am completely fucking shattered and that’s the difference. I was never comparing you to Eli because there is no comparison. You are the only man I’ve ever trusted to hold my heart. Ever. There’s no going back from this.”
And there was no moving forward. Not any more.