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I finally get my phone app open and place a call to the team’s lead physician.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Dr. Silverberg. It’s Livy.”
“Good morning, Livy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He’s always so formal. It’s as if he were born in another century. He actually was in another century. Then again, so was I.
“If you haven’t heard already, I was in an incident last night.” I explain everything as he listens patiently, never interrupting my story.
When I finish recounting everything up until the last several minutes, he hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line.
“You’re a smart woman with a great head on her shoulders. What can I do for you?”
That surprises me. I expected a reprimand. “Well, mostly, I wanted you to know… And I wanted you to hear it from me, not read about it online.”
“Thank you, Olivia. If you need anything from me or Georgia, please let me know. If the press gets to be too much, we have a little place farther down the coast that you’re welcome to hide away in.”
“That’s very kind. I hope I never need it, but I promise to ask if I do.”
“Please do. And, I hate to say this, but because I must… Please remember the nonfraternization clause in your contract. You’re too—”
I cut him off, insulted at the insinuation. “Dr. Silverberg, I’m not dating a player. Any player. It was a complete surprise that they were at the same place my friend and I went to dance. You won’t have to warn me again.”
A huge sigh comes through the line. “That’s good to hear. You’re a gifted PT with an exceptional career ahead of you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Silverberg. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Have a good weekend. Please let me know if you need anything.”
He disconnects. Relief wars with indignation.
“Well, that sucked,” I say to Sabine. “You think in his professional life, he’s ever warned his male staffers not to mess with players?”
Anger rises, and I continue my musings. “You think he has to remind them about not fraternizing with players? Come on! I’m a woman, so I need to remember not to screw someone? What does he think of me?”
I stand, grabbing my sheets and taking them to the washer, and begin the load.
I pace to my kitchen and start the kettle. “Coffee or tea, Bean?”
Kyle skids around the corner. “I never said the word. Not that I ever deny you, but I didn’t say it.” I pass him a treat and rub between his ears.
Sabine’s voice hits me before she enters the open kitchen area. “Coffee. Tea is for the afternoon.”
“Tea is for any time,” I throw back. I turn to set out a couple of mugs, prep the French press, and line out the sweeteners.
I’m cutting a melon when she speaks again. “Liv, your phone is blowing up, and the news just keeps coming. What are you going to do?”
“What was in the team’s statement? You said they released something?”
She reads it to me.
“Well, that makes it easy. No comment. This will die down with no comment. Monday will come, and I’ll be old news. Done.” I brush my hands as if I’m dusting flour from them and continue with the melon.
“Think we can escape here and get some beach time?” she asks as she fills the French press with hot water and adds the rest to my cup, dropping in a tea bag.
“We’ll find a way. I’d hate for you to come all this way in a Delaware winter and not go home with at least a little sun. At the risk of sounding like a diva, do you mind taking Kyle around the block after breakfast? He’ll go stir-crazy without burning off some energy.”
