Page 115 of Play the Game
The anger and resentment I’d been carrying around since last spring has faded, and I hadn’t even realized it until this moment.
I feel content, and that feeling drives even deeper when I slip my ring back onto my finger and turn to head home to my mouthy, beautiful wife who is teaching me more about myself than I ever knew.
Shutter eyesme lazily in his makeshift bed that Scottie made him on the porch, out ofmyold T-shirts.
The house is quiet when I open the door.
The lights are off beside the faint glow from the kitchen.
There’s something in the middle of the island, and when I get closer, I see a note written in feminine handwriting.
I warmed up the leftovers from the dinner your mom made after dropping them off at the airport.
It’s in the microwave.
xo
I open the microwave and smile to myself. Look at her, being all wife-like without even being forced to do it. After shuttingthe microwave because suddenly I’m hungry for something else, I look into the living room. I expect her to be lying there, pretending to be asleep like she usually is after a game, but the couch is empty.
I casually walk over to the stairs and head up them, bypassing my bedroom and heading straight for the guest room.
If she thinks she’s going back to sleeping in a separate room from me, she’s out of her fucking mind. I’m already prepared to plead with her and make promises of not touching her—that I don’t want to keep—when I push open the guest door and see an empty bed with the bedding stripped.
I stare down the hall.
The thumping of my pulse quickens with each step toward my bedroom. When I step inside, I already know she’s in here without even laying eyes on her.
I feel her before I see her.
My heart fucking races when I see that she’s in my bed. Her quiet body is covered, and unlike last night, she isn’t on the edge of the mattress.
I don’t waste a single second.
I brush my teeth and strip off my shirt. I climb into bed with my chest tight and my muscles begging to touch her. She exhales softly, and although I want nothing more than to pull her in close and kiss her senseless, I don’t. I stay on my side of the mattress and decide to give her the reins.
If she wants to find me in her sleep, then I’ll be here waiting.
There’s a hushed voice in the back of my head that I can’t seem to hide from, and although it’s hard for me to wrap my head around, I listen to it.
I’ll wait forever for Scottie.
I told her before this whole thing started that I wouldn’t lose.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but that statement had a double meaning: I don’t want to loseher,and I’m not even sure I really have her.
Forty-Nine
SCOTTIE
My eyes fly open,and William’s name is on the very tip of my tongue.
I stare at the ceiling, waiting for my eyes to adjust. I’m trembling. I can’t remember what I was dreaming about, but I know it had to do with him because, while at the game, he called, and I missed it.
I’ve been so distracted by Emory and our marriage ploy that I haven’t even called the lawyer back. I haven’t thought about the future at all—unless, of course, I’m daydreaming about Emory’s and myfuture.
It’s a ridiculous thought and one that I have to stop.
Emory is lying on his back with one arm above his head and the other draped across the mattress, like he’s reaching for me.
