Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Looking for my underwear, which you always dump into your drawer because you’re too lazy to sort!”
Well, okay, true.
“Give it to me.” When she didn’t move, Marcee held out her hand.
“I’ll read it, okay? Excuse me for not being able to stomach the thought of whatever he’s put inside.
Besides, I’ve had important stuff to handle.
You know, like the job interview in New York with Eli.
Tomorrow morning.” In fact, her flight out of Asheville was leaving in two hours.
Alex handed her the letter. “Oh, I’m aware.
I haven’t exactly been living for the day that you leave me, though, so you’ll have to forgive me for focusing on other things.
” Marcee winced and Alex sighed. “Sorry. I can’t help it.
I’ll miss you. Even when I know it’s the best option for you.
” She looked at the letter and flicked the envelope.
“I want you to get closure or something. Anything. You can’t keep going like nothing touches you, Marcee.
One day you might find it’s become true. ”
Marcee kissed her cheek as she passed by, forcing back the emotion swelling in her throat. “You read too many novels, babe. I’ll be fine. Better than fine! I’m going to slay this interview tomorrow and be right back to the sparkling, witty best friend you know and love.”
Inside her room, she shut the door and turned the lock.
She’d managed to compartmentalize everything for two weeks, but holding the letter brought it all back in technicolor.
She couldn’t read it then. If she did, she may spend the next week in bed, stuffing her face with cookie dough ice cream like a total cliché.
The top of her carry-on bag was open, so she dropped it inside.
Out of sight, out of mind. Frankly, it’d been her mantra since the championship game. Fake it ’til you make it, right?
Normally, she would be glad for the company of her best friend on the way to the airport.
Nothing worse than a quiet car ride, lost to your own thoughts.
This time, though, Marcee insisted on driving herself.
She loved Alex dearly, and she’d helped get her through what was one of the toughest times of her life, but she couldn’t handle another concerned look or probing question.
So, it was her and Ronaldo, sailing down the interstate to Asheville with the air conditioning blowing and the radio turned uncomfortably loud. She was halfway through a passionate sing-along with Megan Moroney when she got a text.
Better have your big girl panties on tomorrow, princess. I’ve sung
your praises so much to my boss he might actually believe you’re worth
the trouble of footing your airfare.
She skimmed Eli’s message, snorting when she got to the end. Oh, she had her big girl panties on, all right. She’d bought a killer pantsuit for the interview that made her feel like a WNBA coach at a press conference. A stylish one, anyway. They wouldn’t know what hit ’em.
After finding a spot in the short-term parking at the airport, Marcee replied.
Don’t you worry about my panties, sir. I’ve got this in the bag. See
you soon!
She reread the message, stomach clenching somewhat.
Was she… flirting… with Eli? It definitely had a flirty undertone.
You can’t talk about panties with someone you once loved without it being a little risqué.
’ She felt like a traitor immediately. Her heart was freshly broken, still conflicted over what may have been the one great love of her life.
If she decided to do this, she couldn’t go around flirting with Eli.
Aside from the fact that they’d be coworkers, it would be like what she had with Remy never existed.
Even if their relationship did end in a smoking heap of wreckage, he meant something, once upon a time.
Oh, that’s fabulous, Marcee, she chided herself as she grabbed her bags and headed for check-in. Thinking about wreckage before a flight. Do you want to jinx it?
Maybe she should’ve brought Alex. At least then she would be too busy fending off her mother hen questions rather than inappropriately flirting and thinking of death.
Heartbreak did strange things to a girl.
Since her potential employer paid, she had a direct flight from Asheville to La Guardia that afternoon, so as she settled into her seat, she was ready for an easy, painless trip.
Sure, she’d be staying the night with her folks, but it would be fine.
She’d stock the house with groceries, get a pizza for them, and meet up with Eli for dinner. Nothing to it.
To occupy her time after take-off, Marcee rooted around in her bag and pulled out the material on Cross Academy Eli overnighted after she agreed to the interview. She’d already gone over it a dozen times, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared. Or overprepared.
As she opened the pamphlet, an envelope fluttered out, landing face up in her lap.
Remy’s letter.
Marcee’s name was on the front, the letters in his crisp block handwriting that looked so neat and tidy on rosters. It was like a punch to the gut. This was the first bit of him she’d experienced since the night of the game, and even something so minor clenched in her heart.
She was going to wait until the right time to read it.
Sitting on a plane with strangers thirty thousand feet in the air with no escape was pretty far off from the right time.
As everyone in her life knew, though, timing had never been her strong suit.
She was habitually late and, well, she’d already waited weeks to read it.
With trembling breaths and a pounding heart, Marcee tore the envelope open.
Dear Marcee,
My hands are shaking as I write this, so please excuse the mess of ink. They would much rather be holding you than this pen. Tonight, my team might’ve won the game, but I was the loser. I’ve lost everything that matters the most to me.
As I watched you walk out the front door of my house last night, I couldn’t understand what happened.
How could we go from picnics in the sun and loving each other to nothing?
I didn’t lie when I told you I’d seen Lola over Christmas break, but I did lead you to believe it was something it wasn’t.
I was angry at you mentioning another man and calling me out for taking that interview, and I wanted to hurt you.
I met Lola for lunch at her request and we talked and smoothed things over.
If I returned to London (hopefully with you), I didn’t want there to be any bad blood between us.
I wanted you to feel welcome in my home.
I understand things better now.
When I left London, I lost something. I lost the ability to feel like I was worth something, like I mattered. It seemed like the only thing that was important to anyone was that I’d broken hearts, never mind that my own was hurt, too.
The only time I felt worth a damn was under the lights on the pitch. I didn’t know if I’d ever get that back. Despite what I was told, I was never really sure they’d let me play again.
Then I got the job at Alpha and suddenly, I meant something again. People treated me like I mattered. I could win. I was scared to lose it. Pathetic, right?
What I know now is I don’t need that to matter. You have made me happier this past year than I ever was in London. The fulfillment I get on the football field is eclipsed by the fulfillment I have when I make you smile or laugh. I have found I matter, and I’ve found it in you.
I’m packing my things and will be tendering my letter of resignation in the morning. There is a red-eye flight out of Asheville to London, and I plan to be on it.
I love you, Marcee, and I meant what I said at the archway. I choose you over all of it. If you can forgive me and my shortcomings, meet me at the airport. A ticket and my heart will be waiting.
Always and no matter what,
Remy
The paper crumpled between her fingers, words here and there running as tears dripped down her face and ruined the ink. She scanned through a second time, then a third.
How long did he stand at security, hopefully waiting for her to turn the corner, bag in hand?
An entire plane ride across the Atlantic, believing she’d read his words and turned him down.
The silence from him for two weeks took on a new meaning.
If he chose to leave and go back to London to make her life easier, after everything that happened to him there…
“Miss, are you okay?”
Marcee looked up, perception askew, at the flight attendant standing by her seat.
“Is everything okay?” he asked again. He offered her a travel pack of tissues.
“No,” she replied, accepting the tissues and pulling one out.
She waved the letter in the air. “The man I loved betrayed me, but not really, then wrote the most beautiful letter of apology, which I refused to read for weeks. And now I’ve missed what could’ve been the most romantic moment of my life.
” Her nose made an obnoxious honking noise as she blew it and wiped roughly around the edges.
“Oh, sweetie.” The attendant stared at her how people stare at puppies left out in the rain.
“Right?” She let out an incredulous laugh.
He leaned forward, pointing discreetly toward the back of the plane. “The bathroom is open if you want to, you know, freshen up. Maybe collect yourself before we land?”
Marcee nodded pitifully and unbuckled her seatbelt, letter and used tissues still gripped in her fist.
“The airport bar is around the corner from our gate when we get there,” he added, stepping out of the way for her to pass.
“You’re a pal.” She rushed to the cramped compartment they called a bathroom, keeping her head down as the other passengers stared curiously. Inside, she took inventory of the damage. She was a disaster, a red, puffy disaster with mascara streaks down her cheeks and snot on the end of her nose.
“This is love,” Marcee told her reflection, grimacing. She looked exactly how she felt on the inside.
And yet…
Images played out before her in the mirror, scenes of her and Remy throughout their relationship, however fast and bright it burned.
The first time they met, staring at each other as they both dripped with sweat in the summer heat. His swagger, her aloofness.
Their clashes on the field, all unbridled passion and hate disguising the kernels of truth hidden beneath.
The way he looked at her the first time they really talked at the community center, jogging in circles and feeling each other out.
Their first date, the first time they made love, or the way he laughed with his whole body.
That was love, too. All of it. The beginning, no matter how it came about. The beautiful middle. The last words. Love wasn’t defined by how it ended—it was all the moments woven together.
By the time Marcee exited the bathroom and headed back to her seat, she had Remy’s letter folded neatly in her pocket. And she knew exactly what she needed to do next.