I wanted to be mad at him.
I wanted to look at him across that empty conference room and feel angry, self-righteous fire in my veins simply from the sight of him. But I didn’t.
What I felt was soul-shriveling embarrassment because now I was being dissected, my old pictures being thrown up on new stories as some sort of proof that the way I’d lived before should have given a hint that this would happen.
The shot of me on the rocks in Aruba was a particular favorite this morning on the entertainment sites, maybe because my arched back and skimpy red bikini made me look more like the kind of person who slept with someone who worked for her. Like it reinforced whatever narrative they’d chosen for the juicy tidbit Luke and I had just handed them.
There was no regret for what I’d done months ago, years ago, because I looked damn good in that bathing suit, but it was that in a matter of weeks, I’d turned into a punchline. Fodder for some late-night TV anchor who wanted a quippy top ten list.
Luke wouldn’t be a punchline. Who could blame him? was something I read on Twitter before Paige ripped my phone out of my hands
And in his eyes, I could see the devastation. He’d rip down every word, every picture, every comment with his bare hands, if he could.
But it was impossible. This was something he had no control over.
What people said. About him, or me, or us together. What it looked like to the outside world had absolutely no bearing on what it looked like between us.
And even that was subjective because not once had Luke given me verbal clues as to what was going on in his head. Now all I knew was that he was sorry. That he wanted it to be gone, but he had no way to make that happen.
I knew that because that was what I saw on his face when he looked at me with apology screaming from the depths of his dark eyes. I had to close my own eyes against it because as much I wanted to be mad at him over this, my heart was shredded to ribbons in my chest over how I felt that very morning in his bed.
Ava gave me a sympathetic look, but her tone was all business.
“You’re in agreement, Allie?”
With my back still against the door, I nodded. My fingers knit together tightly at the pulse of silence that came with my decision. Even if it hurt to hear Luke say that I wasn’t his girlfriend, it was the truth. Something I couldn’t argue with. To stand in front of the media and try to spin something sweet and innocent would feel like plucking glass shards from my skin.
I wasn’t capable of it at the moment. Just convincing Paige to smuggle me into the facility, past a waiting horde of news vans, took enough of my energy. But sitting at home wasn’t helping. Amazing how hiding under your covers and crying didn’t actually make your problems go away.
“Okay,” Ava said in a crisp voice. “We’ll issue a press release from the front office, saying that you and Luke had private lives outside of the Washington Wolves, and they’ll remain private, considering that you’re both consenting adults and there’s nothing in Luke’s contract that prohibits a relationship between the two of you.”
It was a scrubbed-clean version of the truth.
The bare facts boiled down to a sanitized version that would provide little for the media to work with.
I hated it.
Neither Luke or I spoke, and Ava glanced at us briefly before directing her attention back to her phone.
“We’ll talk to the team at the meeting that starts in”—she looked at the clock on the wall—“twenty minutes. Let them know that outside of these walls, they’re strictly on a ‘no comment’ basis, and if anyone utters a word to the media other than that, they’ll get a stiletto up their piss hole.”
Her attempt at a joke had me smiling slightly, but Luke only dropped his head down so that I couldn’t see his face at all.
The smile fell when I imagined facing the team again. Just like that, it was as if someone lit a match behind my eyes, igniting the short, thin fuse on my emotional leash. What would they think of me?
I cleared my throat, just to make sure I would not cry if I spoke. “Do … do you need me at that meeting?”
Even though vomiting seemed like an appropriate response to the thought of attending, I’d do it. I’d face them and look in their eyes, accept whatever judgment they’d have for me. Risk being able to put a tangible moment to the loss of respect that I might see aimed back at me.
But Ava shook her head. “No, unless it was something you’d normally attend, I think it’s better if you don’t. But after we issue this press release, I think it’s best if we return to business as usual. On game day, you do whatever you’d normally do.” She paused and held my eyes when my breathing increased audibly. “If you’re comfortable with it.”
I chewed on my bottom lip and risked a glance at Luke. He’d lifted his head and was watching me carefully. A muscle in the side of his jaw popped when he clenched his jaw.
I wish you could’ve kissed me out in the sun.
The thought came from nowhere, and then it was my turn to drop my head so I could shackle my emotions down with iron chains. When I’d willed the tears back with clenched fists, I looked up again.
“I’ll see how I feel on Sunday.” It was all I was willing to promise at that point.
She nodded. “Fair enough. Who knows, maybe this will have all blown over by then. Another Kardashian baby might enter the world, and believe me, that’ll distract them from just about anything.”
“Ava,” Luke said, still looking directly at me, “can I get a minute with Allie? I’ll be at the meeting before it starts.”
If she was surprised, she did an excellent job of hiding it. “Of course.” She touched my arm as I moved out of her way. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m an excellent drinking companion.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, I will.”
With the click of the door being closed, we were alone.
Luke straightened, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Allie, I’m so sorry about all this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I answered.
He uttered a dry laugh. “Isn’t it?”
Our eyes held until my vision blurred.
“Allie, please don’t cry,” he begged quietly. A single tear dashed down my cheek, and I brushed it away, but I knew by the way his arms popped when he clenched his hands together that he saw it. His brows furrowed over his tortured eyes, but he didn’t look away. Like it was his penance, his punishment. I knew what he was remembering. I’d asked him to go inside. But he’d touched me first as though he couldn’t not touch me.
But that didn’t matter. Even if the only thing they’d seen was us walking into his house, it was damning enough to still make the headlines. Saying that to Luke would make little difference, though.
“I had plans,” I heard myself saying.
He took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. “What do you mean?”
“I-I wanted to start a foundation.” I didn’t brush away the tears that fell now. It was pointless. My heart hurt so badly, standing a mere five or six feet away from him, telling him the most personal, secret thing since the day we’d met. Now, when it didn’t matter and couldn’t make it better, I was showing him the most tender side of my underbelly. The thing that could hurt me the most. “Helping young girls learn to be leaders, how to make an impact in the lives of people around them when they’re not given the same opportunities as others. How not the waste the ones they are.” My throat thickened, and I had to stop, just so that I didn’t unleash some ugly, snot-filled sob. “Faith gave me the idea, actually.”
“God, Allie,” he said, leaning forward like he would stand.
“This was something I never knew I wanted,” I told him, suddenly unsure if I was talking about the foundation, about him, or about us. “But that doesn’t matter, you know? All the matters is that one day you wake up and you do want it. And now I feel like it was taken away from me,” I said angrily. “By some asshole with a zoom lens. I didn’t even get the chance to turn it into something amazing. Something special.”
“You still can,” he replied fiercely.
I let out a watery laugh, my cheeks wet with tears. “Would you send your daughter to me now? If you didn’t know me, know what happened, would you trust me to mentor her?”
His breathing picked up speed. He stood and paced in front of the table, his hands fisted by his side. “Fuck,” he yelled, then he kicked out the chair next to the table. It clattered to the side. He glanced at me. “Sorry. I really want to punch the wall or something, but …” He held up his hands, worth millions, and shrugged helplessly.
“It’s okay,” I replied because even though it wasn’t okay, I really didn’t want him to break any bones.
“I knew that night that we couldn’t keep doing this,” he muttered, pacing again.
I froze. “You what?”
His nostrils flared out as he stopped and stared at me, unseeing. “I left the press conference and knew we had to stop. I’d said too much, that asshole had baited me too easily, and if anyone found out, shit, then this is exactly what would happen.”
That.
That was the piece I’d been missing in all this. The look in his eye when he turned and saw me sitting by his pool. He’d been preparing to end it.
I looked away and stared at the white wall until my eyes burned from the need to blink, but I would not let another tear fall until I was alone. That was why he brought me into his bed. Why he touched me that way, why he said the things he did because he knew it was the last time.
And I’d woken up, sniffing his pillows like a silly little girl.
Like a suit of armor unfolding, I shored up every side of my aching, tender, torn heart. Slowly, I nodded. With shaking fingers, I reached up and slid my sunglasses back down to cover my sandy, gritty eyes.
It never would have worked. Whatever visions had danced through my head that very morning would never have worked because he was too afraid of something going wrong on his watch. The idea that strangers could peer easily into his personal life was the worst thing Luke could imagine, especially when he couldn’t control the outcome for the people surrounding him.
And briefly, I had been one of those people. For a second, it was as if someone reached into my chest and squeezed, wringing every ounce of pain from the realization that he still resided there for me. But he didn’t need to know that. Not now.
I’d get over it.
I’d make myself get over it.
“You’re right,” I told him.
He blinked at my even tone. “I am?”
I swept my fingers under my eyes and pinched my cheeks. “Well, not about it being your fault.” I looked down at the watch on my wrist. “I was part of this too, and I knew the consequences as well as you did. But I still chose to ignore them.”
“Allie,” he said slowly, clearly confused at the sudden shift in my mood.
I held up a hand. “No, I’m not mad at you, Luke. It is what it is.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s fine, but …”
“Really, there’s no need for self-flagellation. It was my choice to wait for you outside half naked.” I forced a smile on my face, but it must have looked like a grimace because he made a matching facial expression. “The news will move on. They always do eventually.” Luke opened his mouth, but I waved him off. “Don’t you have a meeting to get to?”
Instead of leaving, of agreeing, or even looking relieved in the slightest, Luke stared at me as though I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.
In my chest, my heart hammered wildly because I was hanging on by the most fragile of threads. Staring him full in the face even though he couldn’t see my eyes, I knew he’d probably hold me if I went to him, making each frayed edge that much closer to coming undone.
Eventually, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good luck. Don’t let them give you too much shit about it.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, clearly not buying my little act, which was unfortunate because I was pretty sure I just delivered a performance that should make the Academy sit up and take notice.
“I’m okay,” I told him.
With one last searching look at the mirrored lenses, he left, and I let out a shaky exhale. Then I sank down onto the floor, tossed my glasses to the floor, and wrapped my arms around my knees, letting the tears fall.
Because it felt like he was pulling my heart behind him with every step, and I’d never get it back.
When Joy found me on the floor fifteen minutes later, she helped me stand, dried my face off with a white handkerchief, and walked me back to where Paige was waiting anxiously.
She took my face in her hands before I left. “Honey, you’re a Sutton. And that’s no wimpy breed. You take today and cry, but tomorrow, tomorrow you straighten that spine and keep doing your job.”
“Okay,” I promised her.
Joy gave me a tight hug before Paige folded me into the car.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’d straighten my spine and keep doing my job.
