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Their father was not a cheater. He loved his family. He loved his wife. Adored her. He was different from the men those basketball wives whispered about. He had to be.
“You need to pick a side,” Tiffany said.
“I’m not doing that.”
“Our mother is sitting at home humiliated and heartbroken over that man!”
“That man is your father too, Tiff!” Nicole started pacing the length of the room.
“He ruined our family, Nicole. We’re about to have a little brother or sister. Somebody who shares our father but not our mother, so they won’t even get the good half of this fucked-up family. Goddamn professional athletes. They’re all the same.” Of course Tiffany would say that, especially after the way her last relationship ended. Her ex was one of the NBA’s biggest superstars and, according to Tiffany, its biggest fucking liar. “I know you’re a daddy’s girl and all, but God-lee.”
“Believing him isn’t the same as choosing him over her.”
“Oh, bull-fucking-shit, Nicole.”
“This! This is exactly what I didn’t want to do with you. It’s bad enough our parents are getting a divorce, but now this? I don’t want us to—” Nicole stopped herself and blew out a breath. “I don’t want us fighting too.”
I need you.
Only the steady rush of traffic came through the line while Nicole waited, still gripping the phone too tightly.
When Tiffany finally spoke, she sounded more tired than angry. “You’re right. I’m sorry, okay? I love you, squirt.”
“I love you too, Tiff.”
“I’m just so damn angry. But I’m taking it out on you, and that’s not fair.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
The doorbell rang, and Nicole looked toward the front of the house. For one quick second, she thought it might be Drew. “Hold on. Someone’s at the door.”
She took the cordless with her. The bell rang again while she was coming down the stairs, and she tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear to check the peephole.
Cedric stood on the porch with flowers in his hand.
“It’s Cedric,” Nicole told Tiffany.
“You finally decided to take him back?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “No.”
“Well, maybe you should. He’s a great guy, Nicole. And even better, he’s not an athlete.”
If Tiffany knew who’d spent Saturday night in her bed, she’d have plenty to say about that too. Nicole wasn’t giving her the chance tonight.
“Talk to you soon?” She reached for the deadbolt. “I have to get this.”
“Yeah. And be good.”
Nicole hung up and set the cordless on the table beside the door, but didn’t unlock it yet. She kept picturing her mother curled up under her favorite blanket on the living room sofa, crying while she waited for Tiffany to get there.
Cedric knew her too well. If she opened the door looking as shaken as she felt, he would start asking questions, and she didn’t want to explain anything or have him feeling sorry for her. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose until the pressure behind them eased up some. Then she rolled her shoulders back, unclenched her jaw, and smoothed both hands down the front of her T-shirt before she flipped the deadbolt and opened the door.
Cedric held the flowers low at his side. Their eyes met for a second before he looked away, like he wasn’t sure he had any right to be on her porch and figured she was about to tell him so.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“Hey.”
