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Marilyn slapped away his hand. “So you admit you misrepresented yourself.”
Warrick dropped his arm. “No, I don’t. I told you what I did for a living. I play for the Monarchs. I’m not a star.”
“The Monarchs changed.”
“I won’t apologize for that.”
Marilyn shook her head. “The quest for the ring. I’ll never understand it.”
Warrick arched a brow. “I hope that’s not true.”
Marilyn turned and put more distance between them. “You want to be the best. Your competitive drive is what got you to this point. But it’s also the reason the media and all of New York think they’re entitled to have an opinion on our private life.”
Warrick’s shoulders were heavy with regret. “I don’t like that part of my career, either. Unfortunately, society takes privacy as payment for success.”
Marilyn raised her eyebrows. “You mean your success. When I pictured spending the rest of my life with you, I thought it would be you, me, a couple of kids, maybe a cat. I never imagined we’d also be sharing our lives with the greater New York City metropolitan area.”
“We’re not sharing our lives with them.” How could he make her understand?
“There are stories about us in the news every day. They question your abilities. They ask readers whether I’m good enough for you. How do you think that makes me feel?”
He could imagine. It made him feel pretty crappy. “It doesn’t matter what they think.”
“That’s easy to say. It’s not as easy to put into practice.”
Warrick put his hands on Marilyn’s shoulders. “Try, Mary. All that matters is what we think—you and me—and I think you’re perfect for me.”
Marilyn frowned. “It’s not just what they write about me. I don’t like what they’re saying about you, either.”
Thank God she still believed in him. After his father’s phone call this afternoon and his teammates’ reaction in the locker room tonight, he’d felt as though no one did.
Warrick squeezed her arms. “I can handle the media criticism. I’ve been dealing with it since college. What they say doesn’t matter. Your words carry a lot more weight with me.”
She looked sad. “We can’t even go out without people mobbing us for your autograph. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Yes, it does.”
Marilyn held his gaze. “But you’re not willing to do anything about it.”
“You mean retire? Would you?”
“My job isn’t disrupting our lives.”
Warrick felt a stir of irritation. He dropped his hands from her. “How many dinners have been interrupted by your patients going into labor? How many times has your pager gone off while we were making love?”
Marilyn’s cheeks darkened with a blush. “I’m a doctor. My patients need me.”
“And I’m just a baller.” Warrick heard the bitterness in his words.
Marilyn settled her hands on her hips. “That’s not what I meant. At. All. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
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He was at the end of his rope. “If you believe in me, why isn’t our love enough to save our marriage?”
Marilyn expelled an impatient sigh. “We aren’t adolescents anymore, Rick. We need more than love to make our marriage work. We have to be realistic about what it takes to make a lifelong commitment to each other.”
“And what does it take?”
