Page 25 of Cross-Checked

“You’re still wearing his ring,” I point out. “You’re still living with him, and you’re still coming to his games wearing his name on your back.” My eyebrows raise as I glance at the WAG playoff jacket she’s wearing. The fact that she’s even in the WAG group chat and sporting one of their jackets shows me exactly how serious Colt is about her, because players don’t take that shit lightly.

“Because she’sin lovvvve.” Audrey drags out the word, playfully teasing her sister. “And besides, he said the only way this was ending was ifyoubroke up withhim.You planning on breaking up with him?”

It’s a rhetorical question, asked only to emphasize that their relationship has become very real. Jules just rolls her eyes.

“I can’t see any other outcome than you marrying him,” Lauren adds. “He wouldn’t survive without you at this point, and I’ve never seen you happier.”

Jules sticks out her lower lip and blows out a puff of air, ruffling the waves of blonde hair that fall on either side of her forehead. “Yeah. I kind of can’t see any other outcome either.”

I feel Morgan’s pain. Even though I’m not super close with these women, except Lauren, I’ve still watched as my players and my friend have fallen in love with them. I’d never begrudge anyone their happiness, but it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have that kind of joy in my own life.

Of course, I’d have to open myself up to the idea of falling in love again. And I’d probably have to stop working eighteen hours a day and start dating. I’ve built a comfortable, safe life for myself in Boston, but it’s starting to feel more stifling than safe lately.

As if she can sense my thoughts, Morgan turns and says, “What about you, AJ? Any special guy in your life?”

I snort a laugh. “I’m already married to my job. I don’t have time for a man.”

“You sound like Paige,” Morgan says, and when I dip my eyebrows, she reminds me, “Lauren’s sister. She’s married to her job, too.”

Lauren looks like she wants to say something, but presses her lips together. Then she says, “AJ does give excellent relationship advice, though.”

My brow furrows. “I do?”

She knows about my divorce, my infertility, and that my husband cheated on me. I’m hardly the right person for relationship advice.

“Yeah. One of the first real conversations we had,” she tells her friends, “was right when I found out Josh was leading a double life, and AJ popped into my office. You remember?”

She’s looking straight at me. Of course I remember. It was the first time I felt like someone I worked with could also be my friend. I nod.

Lauren continues. “AJ told me that when a woman is beautiful, strong, and successful, she’s a triple threat. And that weak men don’t like to be threatened, so they’ll find any way to undermine and invalidate you—to make you feel small, like you’re nothing without them. But a strong man will encourage and support you, will want to see you shine and be successful in all aspects of your life, not just where it relates to him.” Lauren pauses and laughs before saying, “And then she offered to help me bury the body if I needed.”

“What body?” Audrey says with a laugh.

“I believe the offer was that if I needed to kill ‘the other woman,’ she’d show up with shovels.”

Now I’m laughing. “Hey, we women need to stick together. Look at you all,” I say, my eyes flicking to each of them. “The men in your lives are lucky to have you. And you know what the best part about that is?”

“The sex?” Jules offers, and Audrey swats at her from across the table.

“I mean, sure.” It’s been so damn long since I’ve had good sex, I can’t even remember what it’s like. “But I was thinking that thebestpart of it is, they all know how lucky they are.”

“So it’s just us with the sucky love lives then, huh?” Morgan says, leaning over and resting her head on my shoulder. I don’t think she’s even thirty yet, and with her strawberry-blonde hair, freckles, and cute upturned nose, she looks even younger.

I reach my hand up and pat her head. “I guess we’ll just have to keep killing it with work. I hear you started your own social media consulting company?”

She sits up, clearly surprised. “You did?”

“Yeah, Jules mentioned it. I’d love to talk to you about that at some point. I think our team could use some social media advising.”

Her eyes widen. “I...I’d love to talk more about that. But first”—she flags down a passing waitress—“I think a round of shots are in order.”

Jules groans. “I’m not doing fucking shots, Morgan. How about a round of margaritas?”

As we all order another drink, I point at Morgan and tell the waitress to put an extra shot in her drink. “I’ve already got a tab open. Last name’s Jones.”

As we sit around that table, laughing and chatting in our booth, I’m shocked by how comfortable I feel around these women. We range in age by a decade and a half, but it’s amazing how easily we find common ground. It makes me realize that there’s something inherently freeing about having girlfriends you can talk to.

I see it in how well they know the ins and outs of each other’s lives, and how supportive they are of each other. It couldn’t be more different from how I saw women treat each other—the backstabbing, the jealousy, and the competition—when I was growing up.

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