Page 112 of Wild Hit
In turn, that also confirms that it was the right movefor him. I only know how to be selfish and take, take, take. But what have I given him other than headaches and maybe even this error? Miguel’s mentality is so elite that this seldom happens, and as far as I’m aware, I’m the only person in his life that has disturbed his peace the past few months. Even bruised ribs wouldn’t do this to him.
When I finally explain all of this aloud to my friends, the expressions on their faces tell me they’ve never heard anything quite as absurd. I feel it in my bones, too—there’s that shame again.
“Audrey, I’m going to say this with a lot of love.” Rose grabs my hand in between hers, and stares at me with her unfathomable eyes. “Are you out of your damn mind?”
“I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt in one thing,” Hope chimes in, setting her arm on the backs of our chairs to turn to me. “Love makes us lose our logic often, ask me how I know. And all of this that you’re saying”—she motions at me with her free hand—“is illogic, because you’re in love with the man and his daughter, and you’re afraid that it seems too good to be true.”
“Yes.” I frown. “I explained it very logically, though.”
She ignores me. “But… have you stopped to think that maybe it seems too good to be true because you’re just used to shitty love?”
“Or no love at all,” Rose adds.
“I mean, it’s true that I’ve been single a very long time but…”
My voice trails off because something clicks all of a sudden. Shitty love is more what I’m familiar with. My parents’s version of love was very shitty, gold leaf gilding around neglect. My brother’s love was short lived. The few guys I dated never even loved me in the first place.
I look at the two of them, in turns since they’re sitting on my sides. The only real love I’ve known so far has been from my friends. It’s why I’d do anything for them.
And then Miguel came along, and the only way I was able to recognize that there was something special about him, was because I had already experienced it with my friends.
“Hope, look,” Rose whispers, her eyes as wide as they can be.
“Oh, shit.” Hope stares at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this.”
My chin trembles and I sniff. After wiping the tears off my face, I grumble, “Yeah, I’m doing a lot of this crying thing lately.”
“My word, our frosty sugar is melting.” Rose smiles with zero mockery behind it. She almost looks motherly, like she’s proud of me.
Meanwhile, Hope hands me some napkins. “I’m here for not bottling things up so, can you tell us what you’re thinking while you keep crying?”
That tears a little laugh out of me. It’s hard. It takes a lot of false starts and a few more sniffles, but I manage to somewhat outline what I’ve just figured out. As result, both of them throw themselves at me and squeeze the tar out of me.
“Can’t—breathe,” I gasp out.
“Ugh, I’m so proud of you,” says Rose.
“Iknewthat my own meltdowns would help you some day.” Hope squeezes harder.
“Ack!”
It takes much wriggling to get them off me, and Rose is casually dabbing at her eyes as if neither of us could tell why she has the need.
“So basically, you’re selling yourself short because you’re scared of real intimacy with a man who is basically tailor made for you, so you threw big words around and now you’re sad that they worked?”
I wish I could hide from Rose cracking the code that makes me the way I am, but I can’t. Not with the two of them blocking all my exits. The game is done and the fact that the whole stadium is celebrating with all their lungs still doesn’t provide enough cover.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I admit in what sounds like a mumble, but is actually a whole scream.
Many WAGs start making for the exits. Even though this is a private section, there are enough relatives of the players that it makes the process slow. I stay firmly in my chair by virtue of Rose and Hope doing the same.
“What’s the plan now?” the latter asks when the noise has quieted down a couple of notches. “Like, do you really wanna proceed with this divorce or not?”
“How can I not?” I massage my temples, ignoring the WAGs making their way out. “Let’s say that I grow an extra pair of ovaries and I go tell him that I have feelings for him I’d like to explore. How would that even work when we’re married under a farce?”
“Very easy. Men are simple creatures.” Rose shrugs. “Mine is obsessed with the shape of my bottom. Leggings are enough to lower his defenses.”
Hope snorts a little. “And mine is fixated with my thighs. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing, he’s drooling about them regardless.”
