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“And they’ll continue to be a problem as long as I’m an active player.”
“You mean as long as you’re a public figure, which is what they’ll consider you for the rest of your life.”
“You won’t change my mind, Jackie.”
Jaclyn wiped her upper lip with her right wrist. “Will Mary be all right with you giving up your lifelong dream?”
Warrick recalled an image of Marilyn standing at the top of their staircase the night she’d told him she hoped he got the ring this season so he could retire.
Warrick looked at Jaclyn. “It wouldn’t be her first choice. But I don’t think a divorce would be, either.”
Jaclyn shook her head. “I can’t imagine the Monarchs without you. And I can’t imagine you retiring without at least one ring. I really want that title for you. I’m certain Mary wants that as well. She believes in you, Rick. And she loves you. She wouldn’t want you to retire with regrets.”
The Empire Arena came back into view. Warrick checked his watch. They were going to complete their run in less than fifty minutes.
Warrick wiped the sweat from his brow. “Then I’ve got one of two choices. I can either retire after this season without a ring, if it comes to that. Or I could continue my career until I earn a ring and retire without a wife.” He caught Jaclyn’s eyes. “Which would you choose?”
Jaclyn returned Warrick’s steady stare with one of her own. “The Rick Evans I know would find a way to retire with both.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Was it frustration, perspiration, or both? “When did you become such a defeatist?”
Warrick’s eyes widened. “I—”
“You told me yourself your father didn’t believe you’d make it to the NBA. Well, you did. And several All-Star selections.”
Warrick’s stomach muscles clenched. Mercifully, they were closing in on the arena’s rear parking lot. “What’s your point?”
“You’ll find a way to get the championship ring and keep your wedding ring. I have confidence in you. You need to have confidence in yourself.”
Warrick broke eye contact with his friend and franchise owner. He stared at the arena looming larger as they jogged closer. She made it sound so easy. But it wasn’t just up to him. Other teams would have a say in who won the championship. And Marilyn would have input into whether their marriage was worth saving. Right now, he wasn’t confident in either outcome.
“It’s been a week since Arthur fired me. It feels more like a month.” Marilyn jogged to the end of her first lap of Prospect Park. She veered to the left of a slow-moving older couple just as Emma passed the pair on the right.
“It’s the stress of the unknown. It always makes time seem longer.” Emma’s voice was thin and breathy. But to her credit, she didn’t ask Marilyn to stop before beginning their second lap.
It was still early enough to be cool on this first Saturday in June. Marilyn’s gaze swept over the area. To the right, Prospect Park’s Eastern Parkway entrance was teeming with shoppers from the farmers’ market stands assembled just outside the park.
Marilyn glanced at her watch. It was almost eight-thirty in the morning. In just over eleven hours, the Monarchs would play the seventh and final game of the Eastern Conference Championship. Would they return home winners and prepare for the long-anticipated finals? Or would they lose and begin their off-season? She wanted Warrick to get his championship ring, but what would that mean for them?
She looked toward the Eastern Parkway entrance again. Almost four years ago this month, she’d met Warrick for the first time at the farmers market. They’d both completed their separate runs and were waiting to buy produce from one of the vendors. She hadn’t known who he was. He’d seemed amused—and pleased—by that fact.
Marilyn called herself back to the present and her problems. “I haven’t even received one return phone call or e-mail in response to my job applications.”
Emma panted. “You probably won’t, ei
ther.”
Marilyn glanced at her friend. “Why not?”
“Because no one wants to hire someone who’s tainted by scandal.” Emma sounded almost smug. “As long as you and Rick are together, you’ve got two choices.”
“Which are?” Marilyn controlled her increasing agitation with an effort.
“You can either end your career or start your own practice.”
Cyclists flew past them on the trail. More serious runners sped by them. Marilyn veered to the left of two parents with their toddler triplets. Triplets. God bless them.
“I’m not prepared to start a practice on my own right now.” Marilyn looked over her shoulder at the three small children moving forward on unsteady, chubby little legs. So cute.
“Then you’re going to end your career?”
