Page 39 of Fair Play
The moment I got on the plane she texted me a picture.
Of a pierced belly button.
A little silver hoop with some kind of shiny red stone hanging from it.
It’s just a picture of her torso, below the boobs, and above her panty line, but I know it’s her.
And my mouth waters.
Fuck. Me.
“You already met someone? Right on!” Connor Brooks, who doesn’t even look old enough to shave, gives me a nervous grin, like he’s worried about my reaction to catching him peering over my shoulder.
Shit.
It’s a pain in the ass that my teammates still walk on eggshells around me, and on top of that, I didn’t realize he was paying attention to what I’m doing—I’m going to have to be alotmore careful in the future.
“Just someone I met at a club a few weeks ago,” I reply as nonchalantly as I can. “I haven’t had time to see her again.”
He relaxes a little. “Well, if you’re not interested, give her my number—that belly ring is hot!”
“You and Effie on the outs?” Marty Nadeau, a guy on the team who’s only a couple of years younger than I am, leans forward, smacking Connor on the arm.
Connor shrugs, the playful look on his face replaced by something akin to hurt. “She’s going to be gone the next few months. Australia, the South Pacific, all the Fashion Week stuff, and a bunch of back-to-back shows and photo shoots. We decided to give it a rest while she’s gone.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
“I dunno.” His face is shrouded. “We’ve been together a while. Casual, on and off, but we never took a serious break before. Not like this. I think she’s screwing some producer she met in Scotland.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“Communication is key, kid.” I say the words even knowing I’m usually terrible at communicating with women I’m involved with. When I was hired, the team GM encouraged me to make friends with my teammates, a subtle reference to the fact that I usually don’t. It doesn’t come easy to me, but I’m trying.
“Listen to him,” Marty adds. “Talk to her. If you’re not happy about the separation, it’s important to speak up. Trust me, I let things like that go far too often in my marriage. Look where that got me.”
“Uh, engaged to one of the most beautiful women in the world?” Connor says, making a funny face at him.
Marty laughs. “Well, yeah, that. But I mean, putting my three kids through a divorce. Moving them across the country and then back again. And though the two little ones don’t really miss her, Martin, Jr. does. He asks every night where Mommy is. He loves Stevie, my fiancée—” he says to me “—but he still misses his mom.”
“Two divorces but no kids, thank fuck,” I mutter.
“Be glad,” Marty murmurs. “I love them but it made the divorce so much more complicated than it should have been.”
“Effie’s a free spirit,” Connor says after a moment. “And I never want to hold her back. If that Scottish guy is what she needs, then I have to let her do it. I miss her but I’m not going to chase her.”
“Why not?” Ivan Rochenko, a big Russian player on the team, looks confused. “I would chase Chey to the ends of the earth if she tried to leave me.”
“Yeah, but she loves you. It’s different with Effie and me. We don’t use the L word.”
“Do youfeelthe L word?” he asks.
Connor looks away. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”
“Then maybe it’s good you two are on a break,” Marty continues thoughtfully. “Gives you some time to figure out your feelings. Usually, when it’s the right woman, you just know. It’s hard to explain but you do.”
Yeah, no doubt about that.
