“I flew out last minute,” I explain.
“I’m so glad I won’t have to sit through this game alone,” she says, taking the seat beside me and trying to get comfortable, which is easier said than done considering she’s wearing a dark purple bodycon dress with coordinating sky-high heels. The purse she sets on the coffee table is a custom Hermès painted to coordinate with her boyfriend’s basketball number.
I’m thoroughly impressed. She looks like she owns the place. Meanwhile, I look like a regular ol’ fan who found her way into this private suite by accident. I’m rocking a jersey (Ben’s, of course) I bought in the gift shop. I purposely got it a few sizes up so I could wear it as a dress with my cowboy boots.
“I would look like a fool if I tried to pull that off,” Eva tells me, waving her hand over my outfit. “But somehow it totally works on you.”
I smile in thanks before asking if she always travels with Brent.
She shrugs. “When I can. It keeps him honest.”
I frown, more than slightly taken aback by her answer. “Are you really that worried he’ll stray?”
She levels me with a no-nonsense, nearly bored stare. “If you knew his track record—hell, the track record of most guys on this team—you’d do the same.”
The way she talks, it sounds as if she’s discussing something as simple as the weather, not the dynamics of her relationship.
I lower my voice as I ask, “Has he cheated on you before?”
“Twice.” She shrugs. “That I know of.” My jaw drops, and she laughs. “It’s the nature of the game, babe. You better learn quick if you expect to be around a while. These guys don’t have to go out and seek women. Women come to them. You should see the number of thirsty DMs Brent gets every day. The pictures these women send, Jesus.”
“That’s no excuse,” I say sternly.
She smirks. “I love the perspective, I really do. It’s like you’ve never heard of a professional athlete cheating on his girlfriend before. I mean, it’s the oldest story in the book. I’ve come to terms with it to some degree. Brent treats me well, he spoils me, and we have fun together. I know the score.”
My stomach twists into a knot. This whole conversation is making me uncomfortable. Surely Ben doesn’t expect this sort of arrangement? We haven’t outright discussed it, but he has to know I want a monogamous relationship. Right?
I try to think back to what I know about his marriage with Shelby. I know she cheated, but no one’s ever mentioned anything about Ben. He was faithful to her, right? God, I hope so.
Eva leans over and tries to get me to meet her gaze, but I keep my attention down on the court where the guys are warming up, careful to keep my worries hidden as much as possible.
“Listen, I feel bad. I don’t know Ben well. He’s never been a player, not like Anthony and Brent. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Yeah, unfortunately, that’s impossible. My conversation with Eva sticks with me long after the game ends and I head back to the hotel. Ben has to stay and do postgame press, and he takes longer than I thought he would. I try to distract myself by doing some grading for school, but after an hour, I can barely keep my eyes open. I give up the battle and get ready for bed.
I will Ben to walk through the hotel door so he can lean down and kiss me and put an end to my strange mood. But by the time I close my eyes, I’m still in bed alone.
When I stir in the middle of the night, I blink my eyes open and turn to see Ben’s there, sound asleep beside me. I know I won’t be able to go back to sleep until I use the bathroom, so I scurry quietly there and back, careful not to wake him as I slip back into bed. I can only imagine how exhausted he is. He makes his job look so effortless on the court, but I know it’s not. It takes a toll on him, and I see it in the soft bruise forming just below his ribs. I want to reach out and skim my finger across it gently, kiss and make it better, but I know I’d wake him up. I settle beside him, trying to be as light as a feather as I lay my head back down on my pillow.
I turn my head to the side and watch him as he sleeps, studying the rise and fall of his chest in the soft light spilling out of the bathroom.
With his sharp features in repose, he almost looks innocent. I want to believe he’s nothing like Brent and the others. I want to believe he’ll protect me and my heart at all costs.
He will, won’t he?
Ben and I are inseparable over the next two days together. We fly back to Los Angeles from Oklahoma City and spend his day off on Friday with Caleb at the house.
I try in vain to get a little bit of work done in the early afternoon. That is, until a little toddler fist pounds on the door of Ben’s study.
“Ray-yin. RAY-YIN. In der?”
I stifle a laugh as I hear Ben whisper to Caleb that I’m working, and then Caleb’s voice fades down the hall as Ben carries him away. Only a few minutes later, Caleb is back, knocking.
“Hey-yooo?” he asks, pushing his mouth up to the other side of the door and whispering my name like he’s trying to keep Ben from finding him again.
“Caleb!” Ben says from down the hall.
The child squeals with delight at being caught, and I hear the sound of his little feet pitter-pattering down the hall as he takes off running.
After that, I close my laptop and decide the odds of me actually getting any work done while Caleb is in the house are slim to none. I might as well embrace it. We cuddle on the couch with Caleb sandwiched between us and watch Cars. I’d never seen it before, but now I understand why Caleb’s so obsessed with Lightning McQueen.
Ben gives Nina and Donna the evening off, and I make the boys dinner. Nothing fancy, just a pasta dish Nan used to make for me, a veggie-filled fettuccini alfredo that’s a big hit with Ben because it’s delicious (if I do say so myself) and because it tricks Caleb into eating a lot of vegetables he’d normally sneer at. When he’s done, Caleb licks his plate clean then looks at us, giggling as he points to the sauce on his nose.
I peruse Caleb’s shelves at bedtime and find a board book that’s a rudimentary introduction to outer space. Adorable.
“He likes that one,” Ben tells me.
When Caleb sees it, he claps excitedly.
I sit on his bed and he crawls closer until he’s pressed right up against me. I read it to him twice at his insistence, then he opens his chubby little arms for me and I lean in to hug him.
“Night, Caleb.”
“Nigh, Ray-yin.”
I leave to give Ben a moment alone with his son, and when I walk back into the living room, I see Ben’s phone vibrate on the coffee table. It’s not an uncommon occurrence. After five minutes of being around him, anyone would realize there’s always someone trying to get in contact with him, no matter what time of day it is. Normally, he’s good about setting boundaries though.
I ignore it and take a seat on the couch. His phone vibrates again with another incoming text and then a phone call.
I don’t mean to look at the name on the screen. The fact is, it’s a vibrating phone and it’s drawing my attention, and now I see that “Lydia” is trying to get in contact with him and it’s not my fault, truly.
I force my gaze up to the ceiling as self-loathing immediately turns my happy mood into a sour one. What am I doing? I either trust Ben or I don’t. I can’t snoop on his phone! I can’t assume the worst of him!