Page 59 of Bae

Ivy was the first to turn away from the bar and stalk to the window. “Where are these supposed women?” Her hands planted on her hips as she stared out. Nova stood beside her, hands on the glass, while she made a bunch of sounds and said Da-da over and over.

I joined her, and we both peered down into the stands. “Is that them? Right down there?” Ivy asked dubiously, putting her finger on the glass to point. “That girl has enough bleach on her head she could be a human flashlight.”

I snorted.

“And here they are folks,” the announcer said in the background as the coverage continued. “Look at those women. Should we call them Romeo’s Roadies, Robb?”

I spun. Heck, everyone looked up at the TV.

The cameras were zeroed in on a row of women all dressed to the nines, with their hair all done up like they were at the Oscars and not an outdoor football game. Their cleavage was exposed, their earrings could cover a continent, and their lipstick was layered on like armor.

They all held Knights flags, waving them around like they were at a pageant. Oh my God, I thought I was rid of girls like this after college. Clearly, some women never grew up.

One of the women, tall, thin, definitely too blond, who looked like a model was holding a giant sign:I’ll Have Your Baby!

I gasped.

Remember how I said I wasn’t a bitch?

I lied.

I was done with the rumors, the accusations, and the dirty, no-good hos hitting on my husband. I always knew Romeo was going to be a magnet. I always knew women would fling themselves at him at impossible speeds.

But a baby?

This was going way, way too far. What if I truly couldn’t give him another child? What then? These women would be making a mockery of my deepest pain. They acted as if my lack of procreating somehow made me not good enough for Romeo. It implied he would be so shallow as to literally pick a woman out of a crowd and impregnate her.

Ew.

Like moldy blue cheese ew.

“Rimmel!” Ivy called behind me. Up until that point, I hadn’t even realized I’d moved. “Where are you going?”

I spun from the door and glanced back, taking in everyone in the room. Valerie was watching me with wide eyes, and Tony looked like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Everyone is so desperate for a picture of me… Well, I’ll give them one.”

“Give ‘em hell, girlfriend,” Ivy stated proudly.

I yanked open the door and strode out into the hallway. I noted the security officers hanging out nearby; they all straightened the instant I appeared.

I gave them a wave. “Boys.”

“Uh, Mrs. Anderson, where are you going?”

“To watch the game,” I replied sweetly and strode away.

I gathered some attention when I stepped out of the private hallway. A few photographers were lounging on their asses, propped against the walls. The second I marched by, they snapped to it, blinking widely as if they couldn’t believe what they saw.

Morons. Every last one of them.

I went past the concession stands, the vendor booths, and the public bathrooms. Toward the end was a wide hallway that led out into the stands. I walked through as the volume of the game grew and grew.

The second I stepped between the rows, I stood at the bottom and scanned the crowd. I looked toward the general area where Ivy pointed before. I figured I’d know them when I saw them… You know, the sign offering to have my husband’s child was like a giant YOU ARE HERE insignia.

The photographers were right with me, taking pictures and on their phones. They hurled questions, too, but I ignored them. I was drawing attention, but really, what was new?

Then I saw them.

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