The next couple of weeks flew by, and Whitney and I accomplished everything in my notebook. The décor was chosen, the dresses were tried on and absolutely gorgeous. The only thing left was selecting from the caterer’s tasting menu, and they were bringing it to the house when Calvin got home from spring training.
He’d called every night to talk to Whitney, but I hadn’t heard a word from Ace. I didn’t want to ask Whitney to get an update for me, fearful that she’d think I was caving. I wasn’t. I wanted what she had, the happily ever after, not the guy who ordered the happy ending at the massage parlor.
“Okay, our girls’ night out party,” I announced as I rudely entered Whitney’s kitchen without knocking on the back door. I wasn’t sure what I’d do when Calvin got home. I was growing accustomed to making myself at home in their place, including soaking in their enormous jetted tub in the master bath.
Hannah was on her way, the girls from Whitney’s list were all showing up together, and I assumed exactly on time because they were all perfect. My nerves were such a mess that I’d gotten sick twice and wasn’t feeling too great even then. I didn’t have much money, but I didn’t feel right asking women I didn’t know to chip in, so I’d done the best I could on a budget.
It was very stressful to hang out with women who had millions of dollars in their bank accounts. Two of our school friends couldn’t make it because of money, which was a shame. I was just thankful that Hannah was going to be there. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know anyone but Whitney.
“You look gorgeous,” I gasped as Whitney came down the stairs. Her white cocktail dress had a tulle underskirt that pushed it out, making it super flowy. The rest of us women were wearing the wedding colors, purple and sage, perfect for fall. I was thankful I’d got the purple gown. Sage was not my color.
“Thank you,” she said, spinning to show off her dress.
Hannah arrived early, and the others arrived right on time. We all piled into a limo someone rented for the night. Whitney screamed when she saw the Chippendale’s sign all lit up. She had been telling me since she was fourteen that she was going to marry a Chippendale dancer — well, until she met Calvin that is — and I’d let that secret slip to one of the girlfriends. We had front row seats. They were so close to the action you could smell the sweat that dripped onto the floor.
After the dancers pulled Whitney up on stage and teased her until she nearly exploded, we all headed to the first bar on the route of six total. I handed out scavenger hunt cards to each of the ladies. While most of the player’s wives and girlfriends snubbed their noses and rolled their eyes at the silly game, Whitney loved it and paired with me and Hannah.
By the fourth bar, we’d completed the hunt and the other girls eventually loosened up. I sipped on ginger ale, my stomach too unsettled for anything stronger.
***
“Whitney!”
My best friend leaped to her feet and cried out her joy as Calvin walked into her kitchen. It had been wonderful to have these past weeks with Whitney, but the girl had worn me out and I was looking forward to slipping into my pajamas and lounging around all day with nothing to do, and no one to entertain.
Hannah had stayed with me for a week, and I missed her. Not only did she help with wedding plans, I loved having her with me and hated seeing her go back to Dad.
“Thanks for taking care of Whitney so well,” he said to me, pulling me into a hug. “She’s bragged on you every night.”
I loved that we were becoming even closer. He was protective like the big brother I never had, and even fatherly at times, another male figure that was lacking in my life.
“How’s Ace?” I asked while Whitney was in the shower.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure he’s good.”
My heart sank. “Drugs?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. He’s so moody, and so all over the place.”
“On top of everything else, I’m so worried he’ll be caught,” I admitted. “How does he get around the drug tests?”
“Well, recreational drugs are tested differently from performance-enhancing drugs. We’re tested regularly for things like steroids, but they only test for recreational drugs if a problem is reported.”
“Has he said anything about his father?” I asked, changing the subject.
“No, why?” Calvin asked and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge.
I was surprised that he didn’t know.
“His dad is dying, and his sister didn’t know how long he had left. He talked about going to see him if he lasted until after spring training.”
Calvin frowned. “That might explain some of his downward spiral. I’d heard rumors that he and his dad didn’t get along.”
I was surprised that he knew about that but didn’t elaborate further. Instead, I simply nodded, not wanting to share the private things Ace had told me.
My phone vibrated as Calvin poured a glass of wine for Whitney and carried it upstairs. I was ready to make myself scarce so they could catch up on lost time. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and read the text.
Jack: I’ve missed your beautiful smile. ?
I found it peculiar, and even a little annoying that I’d spent months yearning for this type of treatment from Ace. Now that someone else was giving it to me, it wasn’t satisfying. Ace was moving on and hooking up, I was certain of that. Why was I stuck in park?
Me: Glad to hear you guys are back. Everyone make it out alive?”
Jack: Oh yes. A few bumps, but all good. We are ready to clinch the championship this season…count on it! ?
Every time I tried to get anything out of him about Ace, it was useless. And those smiley faces on every text. They drove me nuts, and I had no idea why.
Me: Good to hear.
Jack: Drinks? ?
I was already walking out of Whitney and Calvin’s back door and towards my little cottage. My frog pajamas were freshly washed, my bottle of wine chilled in the fridge, and a few Redbox movies I’d rented were on the TV stand in my bedroom. I planned on starting a fire, watching a chick flick. I wasn’t leaving the house. Possibly for days.
Jack: I won’t keep you out late. ?
Damn. Give a girl time to say no.
Me: Already in pajamas. Not leaving the house tonight or possibly ever again.
Jack: I like staying in. I can bring drinks. ?
Me: Chick flicks and popcorn ready to go.
I wondered if I should tell him I was feeling sick and would be drinking herbal tea. But before I could type anything else, my phone beeped.
Jack: On my way ?
What the fuck? Did that sound like an invite? I reread my text three times. I didn’t see that as an invite.
Jack: In the guest house behind Whitney and Calvin, right?
That was seriously the first text I’d received without a damn smiley face. What should I do? It might be nice to have a little company, and I hated to tell him no. I sighed.
Me: Yes.
Fuck! I wish I could be more assertive like Whitney. She would’ve had no problem telling him to keep his ass away from her front door. Not me. I’m too nice. Sure, crash my party.
Just one movie, I decided firmly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Holly