“And what if they see you?” she whispers, eyes filling with tears.
“I’ll tell them I didn’t feel good after the game,” I say, my hand on the doorknob. I don’t look back at her, because if I have to watch her cry, I’ll cave. And my heart can’t afford it anymore. “They’re kids. They’ll believe me. But I’ll be up before them anyway, so it’ll be fine.”
“Saint … ”
“Night, Doc.”
I step out and close the door behind me. The click of the latch sounding as final as a whistle at the end of a quarter. I walk down the hall, past the kids’ rooms, past the photos of us and the Hartswe’ve started hanging on the walls among pictures of Savannah and Chris. Then I shut myself into the empty guest room.
We may have won the game today, but as I lie here in the dark, in the silence of the house, it feels like the biggest loss of my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Presley
For the past two weeks, I’ve lived in a world of muffled footsteps and avoided glances. We’re two people sharing a kitchen and co-parenting two kids, but the bridge between us was dismantled the second Saint walked out of our bedroom and down the hall to the guest room.
I’m sitting in my office, counting the minutes I need to leave to get the kids from school. And I should be using this time to review performance stats from this week’s training to prep for the weekend game, but when I look at the iPad, the words and numbers all blend together.
I see him every day in practice or training in the weight room. He’s professional when I ask questions and efficient with his workouts. We discuss kids’ schedules, transportation, or logistics of planning for the next away game. His voice is so flat that it makes my skin crawl. It’s like a light went out, and I can’t find the switch to turn it back on.
He told me last week that I can stay until we figure out a plan. I felt like it was a kind and polite way of telling me I’m an intruder in the life that I felt was mine.
I put my head in my hands, my nails scratching my scalp. The weight of it all, the stupid year marker, the divorce threat, the look on his face when he told me he loved me … felt like all the air in my lungs was being wrung out or popped.
“Pres? You’re sitting in the dark again.”
I don’t look up. Of course it’s my sister. It’s like she has that Spidey-Sense, the one that tells her exactly when I’m about to spiral. I can count on one hand how many times in my adult life that it’s happened, but every time, my sister knew before I said a word.
I hear her step into the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her, then the rustle of her movement as she takes a seat across from me.
“Okay, what’s going on?” she asks softly. “You and Saint have been acting like two strangers trapped in an elevator. Did you guys get in a fight or something?”
I try to keep my emotions in check. I really do. But the dam doesn’t just leak, it explodes.
It’s not the pretty, dainty type of cry, but more the ugly, racking sobs that make you feel like you can’t breathe.
So I tell her everything. The conversation with Rhyan. Then Saint’s confession in the bedroom, the ultimatum, and the cold, empty space on his side of the bed.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I choke out, wiping the snot and tears with the back of my hand. I would be grossed out if I wasn’t such a mess right now. “I really didn’t know what to say. Her question took me off guard, then asking about babies, and I just panicked. As a doctor, it’s my job to figure out the problem and fix it. And I was just trying to fix it easily. Like a Band-Aid.”
Alie reaches across the desk, taking my hand in hers. Her grip is steady and warm. “Presley, you’ve always been kind of guarded. That didn’t happen in medical school, but I do think your ability to compartmentalize has helped your careerfor sure. But you’ve never really let anyone, besides me, truly in. Sure, you’ve had relationships, but you’ve never been with someone you were actually in love with. And honestly, there’s really no road map for this.”
“He thinks I’m here just for the kids,” I whisper. “That I’m staying because he’s my best friend or something. But I stay because … I don’t want to lose the life we’re building for Remy and Rhyan. But me staying has nothing to do with our agreement to do this. It’s not even for the money from my trust either.”
Alie leans back, her expression shifting into something more clinical, more focused. “Okay, let’s dig into this and take the kids out of the equation. Take away the money for the foundation, and, hell, even take away the Titans. I want you to answer three questions for me. And I want you to be honest. Like first-thought-in-your-head honest.”
I nod, slightly nervous about what’s about to come out of her mouth.
“First question,” she says, eyes squinting at me. “Can you imagine a regular Tuesday morning three years from now and Saint isn’t there? Not for a game either. Just gone. Someone else making you coffee. Someone else on the other side of the bed. Can you breathe in that world?”
The image hits me like a physical blow. A future without Saint’s presence, his steady support, he offers just by being in the room. “No,” I whisper. “I feel like the air is … gone.”
She nods.
“Next question,” she continues. “You see him in your future, past the one-year marker? When the kids are older, when this whole arrangement—the pact—is a piece of paper, sitting in a dusty drawer. Do you see yourself growing old with him?”
“I have thought about the one-year marker, but not in the way that I’m thinking it’s over. Ending the marriage … hasn’tbeen in my mind at all,” I admit, the realization dawning on me with clarity. “I just … didn’t realize I hadn't said it out loud to him.”
