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Yes, she did. “Would that be so wrong?” Marilyn smoothed both palms over her hair, checking the clip that restrained the mass at her nape. “I didn’t even know who he was when we first met.”
Emma crossed her legs and adjusted her red skirt over her knee. “That’s sad.”
Marilyn shrugged. “He wasn’t famous at the time. A lot of people didn’t know who he was, including you. Then the Monarchs made the play-offs.”
Emma pursed her lips. “Now his picture’s in all the papers and his game highlights are on all the television stations.”
If Marilyn didn’t know better, she’d think her friend was jealous of her husband’s success.
“Once the team made the play-offs, we couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing him.” She spun her chair toward the desk. Her restless fingers released the fastenings on her backpack. “They stare at us when we go out to eat or pass him their movie tickets to autograph when we’re at the theaters. We’ve stopped going out.”
Emma shook her head. “I couldn’t live like that. I’d feel like a prisoner in my own home.”
So did she. Is that the way Warrick felt? Why hadn’t she ever asked him? “He always responds to the fans with good humor. But he can never relax. I can tell it puts a strain on him.”
“I meant you.” Emma sighed. “If I were you, I’d hate not being able to go out without people harassing me and my husband. You get married so you can share your life with another person. One other person. Because of Rick, you have to share your life with an entire city.”
Marilyn was proud of Warrick’s success. But the constant public attention was the inevitable dark side of celebrity. “It’s not his fault that the fans give him so much attention.”
“Whose fault is it?”
“The media’s.” With a finger, Marilyn traced an imaginary pattern on the surface of her backpack. “And they’re getting worse. This morning, a reporter tried to follow me into the hospital for an interview.”
Emma’s green eyes widened. “You’re kidding. What did you do?”
She didn’t want to relive that event. “Arthur showed up.”
“Oh, no.” Emma squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, yes. The good news is he got rid of the reporter. The bad news is he blamed me for causing a disruption in the parking lot.”
Emma opened her eyes again. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s what I said. But you can’t reason with Arthur—unless you’re a member of the hospital’s board.”
“You’re right. So while Rick’s becoming famous, his fame is ruining your career.”
It sounded worse when Emma said it. “Don’t you think that’s exaggerating the situation?”
Emma counted her fingers. “Reporters are following you to work. Your boss is blaming you for the media disruption. And Janet and Dionne still haven’t accepted your offer to join their clinic.” She dropped her hands. “To top it off, patients are complaining about you whenever the team loses.”
Marilyn frowned. “How do you know what they’re saying about me?”
Emma waved a negligent hand. “I’ve heard them talking in the waiting rooms.”
Marilyn’s gaze slid away. “Talk about being unfair.”
“Maybe Rick or his coach should tell people to stop blaming you.”
Should he? “That would only keep the topic alive. If we ignore it, hopefully, it’ll go away.”
Emma grunted. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Marilyn slid her hand into her backpack, reaching for the treatment notes she’d worked on overnight. Her fingertips brushed the sharp edge of an unfamiliar object. She opened her backpack wider and pulled out a gift-wrapped package.
“What is it?” Emma stood behind her.
“I don’t know.” Marilyn read the gift label. “To M, From R.” She tore at the wrapping, knowing Warrick used too much tape to harbor any hope of preserving the paper.
