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“It’s not charity, Dee. I’m living here. Wouldn’t you expect me to share the costs?”
“Sharing the cost is chipping in for bills and groceries, not opening a joint account and investments with your money or buying my house. You should have talked to me about this first,” I say, feeling justified on one hand and like an ungracious brat on the other. “I don’t like having decisions made for me. I thought you understood that.”
“And I thought we were making a life together.”
“We are.”
“Then my money is yours,” he says smoothly as if it’s settled and brushes aside the tendrils that have fallen from my topknot to place kisses on my neck. “There was no intention to undermine your independence.”
What he’s doing feels so good, but I won’t be placated. “For me, independence is having a fair exchange. You come into this relationship with way more than I do.”
“Financially, yes. But what you give me is priceless, Dee. This is only money. At least spending it on Papa’s Kids and the people I love gives it purpose. I didn’t do much to earn it.”
I hear the bitterness behind his words. Since the morning after our fight, Mick hasn’t talked about his fame or much about any of his life that spanned our separation. But nor had I asked. Cautious about upsetting our easy rhythm, I’d stayed away from delving into sensitive areas. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious to know all there was to know about Mick. It’s that need for more that has me tiptoeing into murky waters.
“Why do you think there was something wrong with making money through playing basketball?”
“I don’t think that. But it wasn’t right for me. I didn’t love the game like I should have. I didn’t play with my heart. Most times it was a chore. But I faked it. Did what was expected. What they paid me a shitload of money to do. What did I have to complain about, right?”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness. It’s trite, but true.”
“The NBA would be a dream for anyone in my position.”
“It was never your dream, Mick.” I lace our fingers together and toy with the ring he hasn’t taken off since I’d given it to him. “Why did you choose it?”
“Sometimes there is no choice.”
“You mean pressure from your father?”
His fingers tighten on mine. “I wasn’t exactly a victim. I took advantage of the perks. Took on the image of the famous sports star. And for a while it was heady. All the attention, the money. I played the part. Over time it became harder and harder to distinguish between who I was and the persona that I created.”
“Your wealth and fame are a part of you, Mick. But they don’t define you.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“Well, I am. I see how committed you are to Papa’s Kids. I see the way you are with me, and your family. Down-to-earth. Kind and generous. You’re still the boy next door that I fell in love with.”
His chest lifts and falls on a weighty exhale. “I wish it could be simple. Then I could take you on dates without sneaking around or needing bodyguards. We could just be together. The bank account, the investments, buying your house, those are just symbols of my commitment. Because what I really want is for us to have a normal life.”
Frustration burns in his tone that he’s somehow failing me. I turn to face him. “Maybe I haven’t made it clear what I want and value most.”
“What?”
That’s an easy one. From the moment we met, and he looked at me with those espresso-brown eyes, simmering with magnetic energy, I knew then that Mick would become vital to me. That the essence of him would be imprinted on my skin, in my bones, in my very soul. I knew he would mark me in ways more permanent than time.
“The answer is you.” My knees straddle his hips and my palms cup his whiskered cheeks. “That’s all I want, Mick. Rich or poor. Famous or not. I don’t care as long as I have you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He draws me closer. “Because I have no intention of ever letting you go.”
“You couldn’t shake me loose, babe. I’m like your ball and chain.”
“A beautiful anchor.”
“You say the most amazing things.” I rub against him. “Wanna play with my bullets?”
