“Ow.” I wince, squeezing my eyes shut against the brief, blinding pain. “Caleb, God. That hurt.”
I wait for an apology that doesn’t come. His eyes run dispassionately over me, his inspection starting at my bare feet and climbing over every inch until he meets my eyes. There’s a frigid possessiveness there, as if I’m a misbehaving pet he owns but isn’t too fond of. One he needs to make sure gets back in line.
I shiver under that icy stare. I still feel it when he looks away. The cold has set in.
“Hey, we’ve got time.” He tugs me into him, even though he must feel how stiff I am in his arms. “Let’s not talk about marriage again until the season is over. Can you just give me that? I have a string of tough games coming up, and I need to focus.”
Everything in me screams to get this settled, because it’s lingered long enough, but I nod. I can give him that, but he’s never fucking me again. I felt like an object tonight—like he was collecting rent money. It was a transaction between our bodies, one where I got nothing, and he took everything. As I look back over our relationship, I have to wonder.
Has it been that way all along?
Iris
“We needto schedule some charitable work for you, Caleb.”
Sylvia, the Stingers’ community outreach coordinator, bites into the beignet I offered her with a cup of coffee.
“These are incredible.” She groans and closes her eyes in what looks like rapture. “Did you make these yourself, Iris?”
“Yeah.” I laugh and wave a finger in front of my mouth. “You have some powder.”
“Oh.” She brushes away the white powder. “Thank you. I didn’t know people actually made these at home.”
“Well, I’m from Louisiana.” I smile, thinking about the time MiMi showed Lo and me how to make them. “It’s one of the few recipes I follow pretty well.”
“I need to leave for tonight’s game in a little bit,” Caleb interjects, a small frown marring his expression. “What are the charitable opportunities?”
Sylvia’s smile dims a little, and so does mine. Caleb has been uncooperative and surly all day. I hoped he would shake the funk for this meeting with Sylvia, but he’s been distracted and abrupt the whole time she’s been here.
“Um, we have a great one at a community center downtown,” Sylvia says. “The heroin epidemic in Baltimore and the surrounding counties is unbelievable. We had twice as many overdoses as murders last year.”
“Oh, my God.” I lean forward and press my elbows to my knees. “That’s awful.”
“And what exactly does this have to do with the Stingers?” Caleb asks, sipping the coffee I poured for him. “Iris, what the hell is this? Since when do I take sugar in my coffee?” He shoves the cup at me. Some of it sloshes over the side, scalding my hand.
I gasp, wiping the wetness away on my jeans and rubbing at the tender spot.
“I’m sorry, babe.” He looks concerned for half a second. “If you could bring me a coffee the way I take it, I’d really appreciate it.”
I glance at Sylvia before walking into the kitchen to get him a fresh cup. Our eyes meet briefly, hers wide with surprise, but she glances down at her purse right away. She’s as shocked as I am by Caleb’s inconsiderate behavior. This has been his MO since our argument about marriage a few weeks ago. Rude. Inconsiderate. Asshole. It seems to worsen by the day. His patience is thinner, and mine is nearly gone. The season is almost over, but I’m not sure we’ll last until then.
“Downtown?” Caleb is asking when I re-enter the living room. “Downtown Baltimore? Wow. I’m pretty sure I’m traveling around then.”
“We haven’t set any dates yet Caleb,” Sylvia says, pinching her lips together and glancing down at the pad in her lap. “The community center is a great chance to interact with some of the local youth. Maybe doing some basic drills with them, maybe working on a beautification project at the center. Things like that.”
“Could I help?” I ask before I think better of it. Sylvia and Caleb both turn surprised looks my way. “I mean, if I can help, I’m willing.”
Caleb frowns, his lips already parted and denial in his eyes. Sylvia steps in before he can voice his displeasure.
“I think that’s a great idea.” Her warm smile eases some of the regret I feel for speaking. “We’ve been trying to get more visibility for players’ wives.”
“Oh, Iris isn’t my wife,” Caleb cuts in, his eyes dropping to the ring MiMi gave me. “We’re not even engaged.”
He and I lock stares, both defiant. He’s determined to get his way, and I’m determined that he won’t.
Sylvia clears her throat.
“But you’re a family,” she says, glancing at me reassuringly. “You have a daughter together. Lots of players’ girlfriends are involved. I think it would be great. If you aren’t too intimidated by downtown Baltimore, Iris.”
