She shakes her head but won’t look at me. I grasp her chin and turn her toward me. “I know I hurt you,” I whisper. “I know I was selfish and only thought of myself. If I was thinkin’ clearly, I would have realized you would see this as an abandonment. I know that’s a—"
She shoves my hand away and stands. She puts both hands on her hips and takes two steps closer to me. When she gets to my face, she points a finger. “I would never give you the power to hurt me. The only people who can hurt me never would. But yeah, I let you in further than I’ve ever let anyone else, and that was obviously a mistake.” She spins around, rests a hand on her forehead, and looks off into the distance. “I changed my plans around for you, Colt.” She looks at me again. There’s color in her cheeks, and the control she’s been trying to hold onto breaks. “I got attached to your son. Your son, Colt! And your mother! And I let you climb my walls. I was traveling to your games, and I hate basketball. I did all of that for you and that was okay because I liked what we had. I loved it. I loved the playful guy, and the one who jumped in to save me without a thought to himself. The one who would puff his chest out in pride at my accomplishments.” She wipes a stray tear. “But one tragedy and you ghost me. I’m not going to put myself in a position where that happens repeatedly. So, yeah. You hurt me. You did, and I’m not the girl who just forgives that type of thing. Face it. You didn’t need me. You had everyone you needed around you, and I have the pictures to prove it. You can justify it any way you want, but when you left New York, you took everyone who mattered to you.”
I stand and almost trip, but she runs and holds my hips to steady me. “And I want you to heal so you can continue to play. A long-distance relationship won’t work.”
She helps me sit down, and I wince as the pain returns, harsher than it was before my nap.
“I’ve been in the league nine years. I figure I have five, maybe six years left. Do I want those years? Hell yes, but I want you more. I don’t give a damn about my knee right now. I want you. I want us, and I’m going to show you every day how much I want you and how much I’m willing to fight for what we have. I’ve never had someone love me like you, and—”
My words are lost when Evan comes running out, wearing the blue pajamas we bought for him on the way here. He runs to Vickie. She picks him up and hugs him as if this is the last time she’s ever going to hold him.
FORTY-EIGHT
Two months later
My nervesfinally calm once the plane reaches cruising altitude. I’ve never been more grateful for the extra room in first class as I am now. I was doomed to fail at my dream job the minute I stepped foot in Mexico.
I was there barely a day before the flowers started arriving. Every day like clockwork, I got roses or lilies or a large bouquet of exotic flowers. And that was the least of it. There was also food. Breakfast and dinner were delivered every day. There had been daily declarations of love, either in a private phone call or text or a public display on Twitter. True to his word, he’s asked me to marry him every day.
There were daily, sometimes multiple, videos of him at rehab or speaking with his doctors.
“I know you can’t be here, darlin’. I know I kept you away before, but I want you to know everything. PT is going well. It’s kicking my butt, but it’s going well. As soon as I’m cleared to travel, I’m getting on a plane and coming to you. I miss my Queen Vee.” He would always be sweaty and disheveled in the video, spent from his physical therapy.
He sent jewelry. Beautiful and expensive pieces. Things I never would have picked out for myself, including a diamond tiara. All the card said was ‘A Queen shouldn’t be without her crown.’ As crazy as the tiara is, it’s not the craziest thing he sent me. The most ridiculous gift was a long, white mink coat. It’s ostentatious and gorgeous at the same time. I don’t know why he figured this was something I would like. It’s not something I would ever buy for myself, but I love it. I walked around the small apartment wearing it and strutting like a supermodel on the runway. In fact, I couldn’t bear to pack it up and ship it like I did the rest of my things. I found a special carrying case for it, and it’s sitting in the overhead compartment right now.
I put thousands of miles between us and it’s like I never left. He never stops calling, and I don’t have it in me to block him. Those times I got to see Evan or talk to him were worth it. Besides, I speak to Mary Leigh regularly, who also keeps me up to date on Colt’s day to day. She always puts Charlie on the phone too. It’s hard to break up with a man when neither he nor the people around him will acknowledge that our relationship is over. He still believes we are together and has a calendar counting down the days until I return to New York for good. He has no idea I’ll be landing in New York in a few hours and that I have no intentions of returning to Mexico. Not under these circumstances. A bout of nausea hits and I close my eyes and wait for it to pass. Luckily, it does and I’m able to fall asleep. When I open my eyes again, I’ve landed in Miami.
I could have talked to my sister, and her fiancé would have sent me his private plane, but no one knows I’m coming back to New York today. If they did, Colt would find out and he’d be waiting for me at the airport. He’s been back in New York since school started and getting all his treatments there now.
“If things go well, I might not have to sit out any games, Queen Vee,” he had said one day in a video he texted. I could see the relief in his face through the phone, and my heart was glad for him.
The first thing I see when I turn on my phone is a video from him working out with his physical therapist and with his personal trainer. He’s at full weight bearing now. He still hasn’t cut his hair, and it’s a curly mess.
“I’m not cutting this until you get back to me. Maybe you can cut it for me. Or I’ll keep it and you can braid it. Tell me what to do to get us back, Queen. I’ll do anything.” The look in his eyes is so haunting, I look away and move on to the next message.
It’s a video from my sister. She’s on Ethan’s private plane with our parents, Alan and Ethan’s sister.
Please, don’t say you’re going to Mexico.
My shoulders slump in relief when they tell me they are taking a spontaneous trip to Bermuda for the Columbus Day weekend. Even better. I can have three days to figure out what I’m going to do before my family comes back to town and bulldozes their way into my apartment with questions, concerns, and hugs.
The line at immigration is long, and once I clear customs, I only have an hour until my next flight. I’m hungry, but there’s no way I can eat. My mouth has a sour taste, and the thought of food makes me ill. I settle for a lemonade, and a few sips later, I toss it in the trash, grossed out by the sweetness.
The three-hour flight from Miami to New York seems to take forever. By the time I land and take a cab home, I’m exhausted. The apartment is still spotless. I had the cleaning service I sometimes use come and do a thorough cleaning. After a bowl of chicken broth and a piping hot shower, I climb into bed without a stitch of clothes on and pass out. I wake up hours later, groggy and disoriented. I run from the bed and reach the toilet just in time for all my stomach contents to come up.
FORTY-NINE
I rubmy hand over my face and eyes, certain that what I’m seeing is wrong. If this is correct, Victoria Taylor is back in New York City, and she didn’t tell me she was coming. The last time I checked her location, she was in Mexico City, but I couldn’t track her for most of yesterday. Now, she’s currently at her old apartment.
“Are we done here?” I ask Kathy, one of my physical therapists. She takes my leg and bends it. I wince. The pain is not nearly as bad as it was, but it’s sore. My mind has already shut down. I’m done with PT. Kathy just doesn’t know it yet. I text my personal trainer and cancel my session for today. “I’m done, Kathy.” I pull my leg away when she reaches for it again.
She sighs and nods. I’m already pulling my shirt over my head and heading to my room to shower. It’s only nine o’clock in the morning, and I can be at her place in under an hour if traffic behaves. I text my driver and tell him to be ready. It only takes me ten minutes to shower and dress. Less than an hour later, I’m at her building, going inside behind another resident. According to her phone, she’s still there, but five minutes later, she still has not come to the door. I jiggle the doorknob, prepared to knock the door open with my shoulder when it swings open.
It’s like I’m breathing for the first time in months. I cup her face and kiss her mouth without a word. I push us inside and slam the door closed with my good leg. She smells of sleep, but her mouth tastes minty, and I never want to stop kissing her.
She pushes me away and takes a step back, but she’s breathless. I close the space between us. It’s been months without her, and I pull her into my arms and hold her tight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were comin’? I would have sent a plane for you.” I pull back and cup her cheeks. “God, you’re beautiful, darlin’. So beautiful.” I kiss her again, but she steps away.
