“I know. You’re right. What he did was wrong. Terrible,” I tell her, my gaze meeting hers. She’s angry on my behalf. Her face is flushed and her eyes are blazing. She looks all fired up. “But I want to hear him out first. See what he says.”
“You’re going to let him talk you into forgiving him?” Kelsey asks incredulously.
“If he has a valid enough reason, maybe.” Reaching out, I grab hold of both of her hands. “I’ve never connected with a man like that before. Mitch and I—I can’t explain it.”
“It was just really good sex.”
“No, it was more than that.” I’m about to further explain myself when Bonnie the receptionist appears in the doorway that leads into the salon, my client standing right behind her. I hop out of my chair and start walking toward them. “Oh hi, Sandie.”
Bonnie smiles and heads back to the reception desk. Kelsey remains rooted in place. I shoot her a look. “We’ll talk later,” I tell her.
She hesitates for a moment but then dashes out of the salon, leaving me alone with my client.
And my turbulent thoughts.
“…and I was so distracted, I almost snipped off the top of my client’s ear,” I say with a moan, covering my face with my hands.
Kelsey pushes the freshly refilled pitcher of beer toward me. I feel some of it slosh onto the table in front of me. “Drink up, girlfriend.”
We’ve been at Milligan’s for about a half hour already, the bar down the street from where I work. It’s me, Kelsey, Sarah and surprisingly enough, Amelia. We used to be closer to Amelia—she hung around with me, Stella, Caroline and Sarah a lot back in the day. Back before some of us met men and ended up engaged to them. But she’s so off and on with her jerk ass boyfriend and consumed with their toxic relationship, she doesn’t make much time for us anymore.
It’s nice having her here tonight, even if I’m feeling like absolute garbage.
“Were you so distraught after what Kelsey told you that you couldn’t focus?” Sarah asks, her gaze full of sympathy. I know she feels bad for me. All of my friends sitting at this table do. I know Stella and Caroline and Candice would be here too if they could, but there are wedding preparations keeping Stella and Caroline occupied, and Candice is at some fancy-schmancy fundraiser event with her boyfriend, so it’s just us.
“So distraught. My focus was just gone,” I say as I pour myself another glass of beer. I shouldn’t drown my sorrows in alcohol. This is a recipe for disaster. I say stupid stuff when I’m drunk.
Drunk and upset? I’ll probably say something I’ll regret.
I filled them all in on what Kelsey told me once we were all seated at the table. What’s nice is when I put the text out in our group chat that I needed them, they didn’t hesitate. If they could, they all showed up for me. And I love that.
I love my friends.
“Why do you think he kept such a big secret?” Sarah asks.
“I don’t know. He kind of hinted around it. Said he worked in fitness, but that sounded like a lie—too vague, right?” They all nod their agreement. “When I questioned him further, he said he trained professional athletes and he couldn’t talk about it because of some NDA he signed.”
“Wow,” Amelia says, slowly shaking her head. “He’s good at this. I wonder if he’s done it before.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, slightly annoyed. It’s not like I want to feel like a special case, but…
Yeah. Maybe I do want to feel like a special case. Which makes no sense.
“Maybe this is his MO. He gets with women, lies to them about who he really is, spends a little time with them and then disappears,” Amelia explains.
“I don’t know. He hasn’t disappeared on me.” As a matter of fact, he keeps texting me, but I haven’t mentioned that little fact to my friends yet. They’d probably want me to confront him right now, while they all could watch.
No way. I’m not doing that in public. Not even in private with them listening in.
This problem is between me and Mitch.
“Give him time,” Amelia says, the rest of them nodding their agreement.
I can’t agree with Amelia. Not right now. She claims she broke up with her boyfriend for good, and she’s a bit of a Bitter Betty when it comes to men, not that I can blame her. But if she just cut the cord once and for all, she’d feel better about herself.
We’re not here to discuss Amelia tonight, though. It’s all about me and my troubles. And while I appreciate their help and need their support, I also don’t want any negativity aimed at Mitch.
Damn it, I really care about the guy.
The TVs are on at Milligan’s, and of course they’re all tuned in to sports. Either the Football Network or ESPN. My gaze catches on one of the screens when I spot the Raiders emblem, and I watch as my friends talk all around me, my jaw dropping open when I see my Mitch appear on the TV.
“Shush!” I tell my friends, my gaze glued to his face, which is like four times its normal size, thanks to the enormity of the big screen.
Thankfully, they all go quiet. And I can actually, sort of hear what he’s saying.
“…it’s going to be a good season. We did well last year, and I think this season, we’re going to be even stronger, especially with Clay leading us,” Mitch explains.
“That’s him,” Kelsey hiss-whispers to everyone else at the table.
The interview switches to someone else, the reporter talking about spending time at the team’s practice earlier today and I can only sit there, completely dumbfounded. Feeling like a fool. I knew Kelsey was telling the truth. Google doesn’t lie.
Well, most of the time.
But there were so many articles listed. And photos. Lots and lots of photos. His name on the Raiders team roster. It was all right there, in black-and-white or full color, telling me that yes, indeed, he’s a pro football player for the NFL.
None of it felt real, though, until seeing him in that interview just now. His hair curling around his head, like he was a little sweaty. Wearing a Raiders T-shirt and grim determination. Talking on a national television network like he doesn’t have anything to hide, while he’s texting me at this very minute, asking where I am.
Who does this guy think he is?
Yes, I really care about the guy, but now I’m even angrier.
“He acts like he’s just living life,” I say, waving my hand at the TV screen. “All the while, he’s lying to me. Who does that?”
“Psychopaths,” Kelsey answers, making Sarah choke on her beer.
“I doubt he’s an actual psychopath,” Sarah says once she’s stopped coughing.
“Egomaniac then,” Amelia suggests.
“That makes no sense,” Kelsey says. “If he’s an egomaniac, he would’ve led with the pro football thing. He would want women to know he’s the big-time football player so they’ll lose their minds and panties for him in an instant.”
Now there’s an image. One I don’t want put into my head. Mitch is a very—sexual man. He likes sex. He’s really good at it. Meaning, he’s probably had a lot of it. With lots of women. Fans of his. Groupies. They probably throw themselves at him on a regular basis. He could have as much pussy as he wants, whenever he wants it.