Unsportsmanlike Conduct: The Rules of the Game Book Four Page 7

  "Not sure," he says, looking over his shoulder at me.

  Maybe he went to the bathroom. Standing up, I push in my chair and walk toward the restrooms. I stand and wait several minutes—staring at the walls lined with paintings of various types of flowers—and my stomach sinks every time the door opens and closes and it isn’t Wes. It takes about ten minutes to walk around the banquet hall and outside, and he isn’t anywhere to be found.

  I take my cell phone out of my purse and call his number. It goes right to voicemail. Sending him a quick text, I ask him to call me as soon as he can and slide my phone back in my purse.

  Back at the table, Wes is still not there, but Kenny is, and he has a look on his face that makes me suspicious.

  "Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask, not bothering to have a seat.

  "If you're looking for Wes, I doubt he’s still here. I think he took off," he says, his voice dismissive.

  "What happened, Kenny?" My patience is running thin.

  He rubs a hand over his face before he says, "Sit down, Lydia, you need to think this through." I don't sit. "He's a child. He'll leave you soon and break you."

  The last fragile thread of my patience snaps and I ball my hands into fists. "Did you say something to upset him?" He doesn't have to answer, I can see it in his eyes. "You're a bastard," I spit out before storming out.

  He calls my name, but I don’t turn around.

  In my car, I punch out another text to Wes and tell him to ignore everything Kenny might've said to him and to call me as soon as possible.

  The entire ride home my mind is plagued with possibilities of what Kenny might've said to Wes. Could he have told him that he was the very reason Wes and I ended up getting together? Or that he doesn’t agree with our relationship? Whatever he said was enough to make Wes leave. It had to have been bad. I grip the steering wheel hard and every muscle in my body contracts.

  How could Kenny do this to me?

  Back at home is where I let myself cry. I take off my fancy gown and makeup, put my hair up, and open a bottle of wine.

  Wes has to come back to me. We just got our second chance and it’s possible that Kenny ruined it all. I can only imagine what he might've said to him.

  My cupboards are bare. I haven't been home in weeks. I should’ve eaten more at the gala. It's okay though. All I need is wine.

  I call Wes once more, but he still doesn't answer. Crawling into my bed, I bring the box of tissues with me and let myself cry.

  Bright sun shining in my windows awakens me. My eyes are sore and swollen and my mouth feels like I ate cotton before bed last night.

  I brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and get dressed for the day.

  There aren't any calls or text messages from last night on my cell phone. I do the only thing I can think to do and get in the car and go to his house. I will beg, grovel, do whatever he needs me to do, but I have to speak to him. It isn't lost on me that he showed up to one of my shows in a meet and greet just to have an opportunity to speak to me. I understand his desperation now.

  Wes's SUV is not in the driveway, but that doesn't stop me from knocking on his door. Nobody answers. The house is quiet, no noise from a TV set or music playing in the background. I go back to my car to sit and wait.

  One hour.

  Two hours.

  Three hours.

  I put the car in drive and head to the coffee shop drive-through. In my haste this morning, I didn’t eat anything. I order a double espresso drink and a panini. The coffee is warm and soothing, but the sandwich stays in the bag.

  The rink is my next stop; he could be there working out. But his car isn't there. I drive around Nashville aimlessly to his friends’ houses, attempting to find him. But he doesn't seem to be anywhere.

  My stomach does a nosedive. What if Wes has done something stupid? Before we dated, he had a colorful past filled with drinking too much and blacking out. I hope that isn't what happened to him last night. I can't let my mind go there. Not yet. It will drive me crazy.

  Maybe I should call one of his friends, Derek or Teddy. But what would I say? That Wes is upset with me and I want to find him? They’re his friends, it’d probably be against bro code to give me information. This will be a last resort. If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow morning, I’ll call Derek.

  Back in his driveway, I sit and prepare myself to wait.

  In the stillness and quiet my mind wanders. Talking to my counselor has been good for me. Yesterday we talked about Paul. About forgiving myself for not being with him when he passed. She made me realize that not living fully is only hurting me. That’s not what Paul would’ve wanted. I see that now.

  We also talked about how when Paul was alive, I used to think about what our kids would look like. She asked me if I ever think about that with Wes. I hadn’t let myself dream it. But, now, staring at Wes’s house, I imagine a daughter, a beautiful girl with my hair and eyes—would she like music or would she be an athlete? Or a son—he’d be a little heartbreaker if he looked anything like Wes—and he’d play hockey as soon as he could skate. I breathe in and out and let the images play around in my mind. My heart flutters in my chest. Could I be a good mother?

  As if I didn't already know it before, I know it with perfect clarity now. I love Wes. I’ve been falling in love, that’s for sure. No, I didn't tell him that when he told me he loved me, but now I know I should have. Maybe all of this could have been avoided.

  Fifteen

  Wes

  The sun is falling just beyond the horizon and the sky is a beautiful shade of pink when I pull into my driveway. Lydia’s car is here.

  I’ve been gone all day. I met with my trainer early this morning at the gym and then I went to the ice. There's nothing like a good hard workout to calm me down. I've never been the type of man to bring my problems with me out onto the ice, especially during practice or a game. But today I skated so hard, it felt incredible. It was the perfect release. I had to do something to diffuse some of my anger. It was partly Lydia and partly Kenny.

  My gut tells me that Lydia is with me because she wants to be and not for her career. But what if? Is she using me? Am I a fool?

  I turn off the ignition and head toward my front porch. She gets out of her car and meets me at the door. Her face is makeup free and her eyes are puffy. It doesn't matter, because she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I soften slightly seeing her so vulnerable, but at the same time I need the truth.

  "I've been trying to get in touch with you. Can we talk please?" Her eyes are filled with tears and it breaks me.

  "Yeah. Come in." We walk inside and I throw my keys on the counter and lead her into the living room.

  I sit on the couch and she takes a seat next to me. Her hands are trembling in her lap.

  "What happened? Why did you leave the gala so quickly?" Her voice shakes.

  I inhale deeply and say, "I had a talk with Kenny. He told me what happened. He told me you’re with me for the positive press and that we’re no good for each other. Is that true?"

  She rolls her eyes and bites on the corner of her lip. “I can’t believe he’d do this.” She lets out a long exhale. “Wes, when we got together, Kenny told me to keep dating you because he thought it would be good for my career, but that's not why we’re together now. He encouraged the relationship, but I wanted it. You've got to believe me." A tear falls down her cheek and the desire to wipe it away is almost unbearable, but I keep my hands to myself.

  "I can't read your mind, Lydia, it's hard for me to tell what's going on up here.” I tap my finger to the side of my head.

  She takes the palm of her hand and presses it to my chest. God, she must feel my heart racing in there. "What about here? Can you tell how I feel here?"

  Yes, I think I can. I nod at her.

  Her lips turn up at the corners. "Good."

  "But I need more. I've seen it in your eyes lately and it scares me. There's fear there, and apprehension. You
have to know that we're going to have challenges, just like any couple, but you need to decide if this is going to work for you. Can you ignore things that people might say about us? Can you push all that aside and focus on us instead?" It kills me to say the words and put the ball back in her court, but I know where I’m at and I need to know she's there with me.

  "What are you saying?" The tears fall freely down her face now.

  This time I don't hesitate and run my thumb under her eyes. "Really think about it. Because if this is too much for you, I have to know sooner than later. But don't answer now. Think about it hard because I can’t do this half-in, half-out thing, because I want all of you."

  She leans in close to me and twines her hands around my waist. I rub her back and let her cry and when she's finished, she gets up and kisses me before she walks out the door and takes a piece of my heart with her.

  Sixteen

  Lydia

  “It was renovated two years ago, but I love the way some of the originality was left intact.” Cora pulls out the pocket door between the kitchen and living room. “And check out the crown molding. It’s in every room of the house.” She leads me to the breakfast nook and I sit down.

  “It’s beautiful. You and Derek must be so happy,” I tell her.

  “We are. We couldn’t have done it without Bri. She is really so good at her job. I’m proud of her. Can I get you some coffee?” Bri is Cora’s best friend. She recently got her real estate license and was able to help Cora and Derek find this perfect Victorian home.

  “Sure, I'd love some,” I say. “How was your honeymoon?”

  She pulls out a white mug that has some inspirational saying along the side that I can't read yet and fills it with coffee. "Fiji was fantastic. If you haven’t gone, I highly recommend it.”

  My heart twists in my chest. I’ve never been and it would’ve been a romantic spot for Wes and I to go to together. It might not happen now. “I’ll have to add it to my bucket list.”

  “Do you take cream or sugar?" Cora asks.

  "Just a splash of cream please,” I tell her. “Thanks for having me over. I couldn’t wait to see your house but, I also really needed someone to talk to." My voice is shaky.

  Cora fixes my coffee perfectly and sets it in front of me. The mug says along the side “Coffee fixes everything." If only that were true.

  Cora’s blue eyes widen. "What's going on?"

  I take a drink of the magical liquid and set it in front of me. "It's Wes and me. I'm not sure where things stand right now and it scares me so much."

  She cocks a perfectly manicured eyebrow. I swear if being an attorney doesn't work out, this woman should be a model. "I don't understand. The last I knew the two of you were trying to work things out again. You looked so happy at the wedding."

  Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I blink them back. "We were. But it seems like around every corner the odds are stacked against us. I'm not sure if you realize this, but there is an almost twenty-year age difference between us."

  She shakes her head. I give her credit for keeping her surprise in check. "No, I had no idea. But, does that really matter? You're both adults. And Wes seems so much happier when the two of you are together."

  "At times it feels like the age difference means nothing. Then there are times when people ask if I am his mother." I let out a harsh laugh and there's absolutely no humor in it. "And my manager seems to want to sabotage our relationship. If it isn't one thing, it's another."

  "Your manager? Why would he try to get involved?" she asks, incredulity in her tone.

  Isn't that the question of the decade? "I'm not sure. I'd like to think it's because he's looking out for my best interests. Or at least he thinks he is. But the truth is I'm not so sure. I have a nagging feeling in my gut that he wishes we were in more than a business relationship." My stomach sinks.

  Cora gets up and pulls a brown bag off the counter. She pulls scones out, places them on a small white platter, and sets them on the table. "They’re blueberry. It seems like you could use some sugar. I might be stating the obvious, but have you ever considered firing your manager?"

  "Lately it's all I've been thinking about. And I know I need to make a decision about it soon. But, when I saw Wes last night, he asked me to consider our relationship and make a final decision on where it needs to go. It’s all too much. I'm so confused."

  Cora brings two plates to the table and sets one in front of me and one in front of her. She puts a scone on hers. "What are your concerns?"

  "I trust him and our relationship. We make each other happy, but is that enough? If I decide that I'm going to stay with him and pursue this, I know in my heart of hearts that I need to put aside once and for all my fear about our age difference." It's as if a fist tightens in my chest.

  Cora rips off a piece of her scone and places it in her mouth. She chews the bite and swallows with a look of contemplation furrowing her brows. "Forgive my ignorance in this matter, but what scares you the most about your age difference?"

  It's a great question, especially from someone who's in a relationship with someone her own age. “I go back and forth in my mind about everything I wanted when I was his age. And I worry that if we stay together, will he have regrets when he’s my age now? Marriage and children, that kind of thing.”

  "You told me you trust him and if he said he's happy where you are and the decisions you’ve made, I believe he's telling you the truth. And you guys can always be our baby's godparents.” She gives me a grin.

  "Wait? Are you pregnant?"

  She pats my hand. "No. Not yet. But someday, after I take my bar exam."

  "I think I'd love to be your baby’s godmother." The idea awakens butterflies in my belly. I've never had anyone close to me have children and ask me to be a godmother. I think of a little girl I could spoil and how we could get our nails done together, or little boy that Wes and I could take to the arcade and play games with.

  And just like the other day, I picture a mini-me that I teach to play the guitar and piano. Or a little boy that I get to go and watch play hockey. My own child, Wes’s and mine. The butterfly’s wings flap a little harder.

  "We have to plan Alex's baby shower soon.” Cora claps her hands together.

  "That would be so much fun, too,” I say, my voice lighter.

  "It's good to see you smiling, Lydia. I think you know what you need to do." She nods and points her finger at me.

  Yes, I do know. “Thanks for this, Cora,” I tell her and lift a scone to my mouth and take a bite.

  Talking with my counselor gave me perspective. Now, after talking to Cora, a friend, my choices are crystal clear.

  It's been quite some time since I've been to Kenny's house. We usually meet at my place or out. Still, I have no trouble finding it. He lives in a nice neighborhood, in a two-story Cape Cod home. It’s more home than he needs, since he lives alone, but he works hard and deserves to live where he wants.

  I don't hesitate going to his door and knocking.

  His eyes widen when he sees me standing there. I didn't tell him I was coming. "Lydia, what a nice surprise. Why don't you come inside?"

  I almost go in behind him, but think better of it. "Let's talk out here." I walk to the end of the porch and have a seat on the swing.

  He walks slowly toward me, assessing me. He leans up against the railing and folds his arms in front of him. "What's brought you here today?"

  "You upset me with the stunt you pulled at the gala the other night. I'm lucky Wes is even speaking to me. Why would you do that?" There’s an edge to my tone.

  He pushes off the railing with his hands and comes to stand in front of me. "Lydia, I am sorry about that. But you haven't been thinking clearly lately and it was about time someone did."

  Standing abruptly, I take several steps away from Kenny before turning to face him again. "My personal life is none of your business."

  "I'll be damned if it isn't," he spits out.

  "You ar
e my business manager." I emphasize the last two words. "Which means what goes on between Wes and me is none of your concern. I'm sorry if I've led you to believe differently in the past, but I'm done." It may be my fault that I didn’t set better boundaries from the beginning, but that still didn’t give Kenny the right to try and ruin what Wes and I share.

  "What are you saying, Lydia?" Kenny's nostrils flare.

  "It's time for this relationship to come to an end." My knees are shaking as I point back and forth between the two of us.

  Kenny closes the distance between us and he stands uncomfortably close. His eyes are wild as he scans my face. "I think you're making a huge mistake. We've been together since your career started. You won't know what to do without me."

  I tilt my chin up and stand my ground. "You're wrong, Kenny. I'm not your daughter or your girlfriend or your wife. I think it will be best if we go our separate ways now."

  He lets out a harsh laugh. "I have a contract."

  It’s too much. He’s too close and I don’t want to lose my patience or my courage. I take a few steps away. "I'm aware of your contract. I called my attorney and it expired in June."

  Kenny sighs and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Lydia, please don't do this. I've devoted my life to you for the last 14 years."

  The defeated look on his face tugs at my heart, but he's crossed too many lines and there's no going back from here. "You'll get a generous severance package."

  Tears form at the corner of his eyes as he asks, "So this is it?"

  I nod.

  "I think you're going to regret this decision gravely," he says before storming inside and slamming the door behind him.

  When I came here, I was afraid that I would have doubts and insecurities about my decision, but as I walk off his porch and leave Kenny behind, all I feel is relief.

  Seventeen

  Wes