Just for Kicks by Tracy Solheim

Twenty-One

* * *

ANDI TRIEDTO ignore the murmured conversation between Clive, Daniel, and Mrs. Hilbert. But since the trio was standing no more than six feet away from the salon’s receptionist desk, it was nearly impossible to tune out their concerned whispers.

“She looks so sad,” Mrs. Hilbert said. “There must be something we can do.”

“I think you’ve done enough, Mrs. H,” Daniel accused.

“Don’t blame this on me.” Mrs. Hilbert huffed. “It’s that skirt-wearing husband of hers who messed everything up.”

“Yeah, well, I warned him not to hurt her.” Clive began viciously snipping his scissors. “I told him I’d come after his million-dollar legs if he did. And don’t think I won’t.”

“You’d do more damage if you aimed a little higher. That would fix him.” Mrs. Hilbert laughed.

“The only person we need to fix is Andi,” Daniel said.

“You do know I’m standing right here and I can hear you, right?” Andi lashed out when she’d had enough. “And no one is going after Dex. This is nobody’s fault but mine.” She paused. If she wanted to fool her friends into thinking she was okay, she needed to keep her voice steady. “Mrs. Hilbert may have come up with the idea of our marriage, but I was the one who agreed to it. Even after Dex told me I didn’t have to.”

Stupid her for having a conscience. She should have taken the money and run. But the truth was, she was a sucker. A sucker who kept putting herself out there, only to have her heart trampled again and again. But this time she was going to embrace the lesson the universe was trying so very hard to teach her. The simple truth was, she wasn’t meant to be a part of a couple or a family. Just like she’d told her fake husband a week earlier, she was a party of one.

So be it. She had well-meaning, if not maddening, friends. And she’d survived worse things in life.

Her friends stared at her mutely, each of them looking as if they were bursting to say something more. Andi held up her hand, forestalling any further discussion.

“I’m fine,” she reassured them for the forty-secondth time this week. “Really.”

In an effort to put an end to the conversation—for the time being, at least—she walked over to the salon door and turned the lock to admit the Saturday customers already waiting outside. Her ring sparkled in the sunlight reminding her she was still tied to Dex for at least a few more months, no matter what she wanted.

At least she didn’t have to see him every day.

The morning after the gala, she’d packed a few things and moved into the guest room in Clive and Daniel’s house. Thanks to Agent Figueroa’s visit, she knew the government wasn’t watching her as closely. She could live wherever she wanted. Just as long as she didn’t sign a lease, Mr. Hilbert had advised when he came storming into the salon several days ago.

“You still have a contract to fulfill. That means several more months of playing Mrs. Declan Fletcher in public,” he’d very vehemently reminded her. “Just because ICE has backed-off bed checks doesn’t mean they aren’t still watching you both. You leasing a new place would be a glaring red flag.”

Andi wasn’t sure which hurt more, the fact that Dex’s agent thought she was an imbecile or Mr. Hilbert’s lack of any attempt to get her to change her mind and move back into Dex’s penthouse. Clearly, Dex hadn’t send his agent as an emissary, but rather an enforcer to make sure she didn’t renege on their contract. As she’d told both him and his agent numerous times, she wouldn’t go back on her word. She had over seventy thousand reasons why she couldn’t. Not to mention her pride.

“Good morning, Andi.” The mail carrier greeted her with a friendly smile as she set the mail on the reception desk. “Tell that gorgeous Highlander husband of yours to kick the tar out of those Bears this week, you hear?”

Andi offered the woman a noncommittal smile before sorting through the pile of envelopes into junk mail and invoices. She hadn’t spoken to Dex in over a week and she didn’t plan to today. She’d attend the game the next day, but only to finalize Nicole’s orders for bath bombs. After she and Dex split, she was certain the WAGs wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Tomorrow, she would just slip in and slip out of the stadium without ever having to come in contact with her fake husband.

Among the stack of mail was another letter addressed to her. Her heart sank when she recognized the handwriting on the envelop as belonging to Kenny. The postmark still Las Vegas.

“Is it a love letter?” Mrs. Hilbert asked as Andi tore it open. “Dex has seen the error of his ways and is writing sonnets to win you back?”

“Hardly.”

She peeked inside the envelope hoping for a check. Of course, there wasn’t one. Her luck didn’t run that way. Whatever was possessing Kenny to write to her, she didn’t have enough emotional energy left in her tank to find out. Besides, he was the real villain here. Clive and Mrs. Hilbert could blame Dex all they wanted, but Andi wouldn’t have been in this mess had it not for her deadbeat ex. Crumbling up the envelope, the letter still inside, she tossed it into the trash. She’d never found the one he’d sent her earlier. Not that she cared. With luck, it had been washed down a sewer drain.

Mrs. Hilbert wrapped her arms around Andi, stifling her search. “Men are fools.”

“That’s no way to talk about the superior gender.”

At the sound of Trey Van Horn’s voice, Mrs. Hilbert dropped her arms.

“Well, that fine body of yours may be prime, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say you or any man is superior.” Mrs. Hilbert responded.

Trey laughed at the older woman.

Mrs. Hilbert turned to Andi. “I don’t want to leave you alone with the enemy, but Fred is taking me to the farmer’s market, and I need to drop by the drugstore to—” she dropped her voice to a stage-whisper. “Pick up some lube for later, just in case Fred lives up to his nickname of Frisky Freddie.” She leveled a last stern look at the quarterback before scooting out the door.

Trey grimaced. “Please tell me she was talking about Ben Gay.”

Andi bit back a smile. She didn’t want to chat with Dex’s friend, much less enjoy it.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

One corner of his mouth cocked up in his trademark smile that likely earned him millions each year in endorsements. “Do I need an appointment to speak with you for a few minutes?”

“’Fraid so. It’s a Saturday. Our busiest day.”

“Not even if I volunteer for one of those back waxes? I’ve always admired Dex’s silky smooth skin.”

Her lips twitched again at his obvious teasing. She did not want to like this man. He dated Jade, for crying out loud. Although, the tabloids had confirmed what she’d overheard the weekend before. Jade eagerly gave her version of events—which were not surprisingly vastly different from what actually went down—making Van Horn look like an arrogant tool. She had to give him props for being the bigger person and not refuting her account with the truth.

“Most men spend their waxing sessions crying for their mamas, not carrying on polite conversation.”

This time she got the full smile and, holy hell, it was potent. She sighed.

“I really am busy right now—”

“I just wanted to apologize,” he interrupted. “For Jade. And the things she said. I should have shut her down when Dex first told me she was bothering you.”

“Dex told you that?” Why wasn’t she surprised?

He nodded. “Threatened me with all kinds of bodily harm if I didn’t make her stop. I accepted her word over his. Big mistake. And way too late to prevent her from insulting you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

The unfairness of it all had the tears she’d been keeping at bay for days pressing against the back of her eyes. Dex cared for her enough to defend her, just not enough for her to be family.

“He really is a good guy,” he said quietly. “Whatever he’s done to wreck your relationship, I’m sure he didn’t do it out of malice.”

“What makes you think there is anything wrong with our marriage?” she snapped. She didn’t need anyone else speculating on the status of their relationship.

His laugh was humorless. “The fact that he’s been a boar to be around for the past week, gnashing his teeth whenever anyone speaks to him. At practice he’s kicking the ball so hard, it’s halfway to Canada before the equipment manager can retrieve it.” He studied her face. “And, frankly, you don’t look any happier than he does.”

She wasn’t having this conversation. Not with Trey Van Horn. Even though she suspected he knew the secret behind their marriage.

“If you want a back wax, I can book you an appointment for Thursday.”

“I’ll be in London Thursday.”

Of course he would. The team and their spouses were leaving Tuesday night on a chartered flight. They’d all be there. Everyone but her.

“Look, Andi. What I really came here to say is that I never realized how happy you made Fletcher until, well, he was an asshole again.”

His words were the last straw. She pushed past him and fled out the door for some much-needed air. Unfortunately, he was right behind her.

“Sit,” he commanded.

He pulled out a chair to one of the outdoor tables at the coffee shop next door. She should walk away. Protect her battered heart. Instead she did what he asked and sat.

“I come from a family that has elevated the practice of serial matrimony to an artform,” he began, his unexpected statement surprising her.

“Serial matrimony?”

He nodded. “My mother’s been married three times. In his quest to constantly one-up her, my dad is on marriage number four.”

“Wow.” Because really, how does one respond to that?

“Yeah. Given their excellent example, I’ve taken a solemn vow never to marry.”

“Never?”

He shrugged. “I have aspirations beyond football. If an advantageous match presents itself, I might act on it.”

“That’s very—”

“Mercenary of me?” He interrupted.

“I was thinking of another word, but that fits, too.”

“I didn’t come here to analyze my hang-ups.” He waved a hand. “I stopped by because I wanted you to know that all this time, I thought Dex saw the hypocrisy of love and happy ever after and all that bullshit the same as I did. But this week I realized it isn’t bitterness that turned him off all that. It’s sadness. A bone-deep melancholy that I suspect is why he doesn’t go home to Scotland. Yet, somehow it mellowed when you came along. You brought him out of the shadows he was hiding in, Andi.”

She rubbed her hands over her jean clad thighs, willing herself not to care about what the quarterback was saying. Her heart was being held together with silly string. She needed to do whatever she could to keep it in one piece.

He sighed when she didn’t respond. “Anyway. I came here today to ask you not to give up on him. Beneath that brooding, stoic veneer is a guy with a vulnerable heart. From what I gather, marriage—or any long-term relationship—requires work. You strike me as a woman who doesn’t back down from a challenge. I hope you won’t back down from this one.”

Dex was the one who gave up on their marriage,she wanted to shout. Except that wouldn’t be the truth. He’d been upfront since the beginning. The only one pining for a happily ever after was Andi. She’d broken her own rule by putting her heart in play. Now she was paying the price.

Trey leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “I hope I’ll see you around.”

He’d walked a few steps before turning back toward her.

“You said you would use another word besides mercenary to describe my theory on relationships,” he said. “What was it?”

“Short-sighted,” she responded without hesitation. “As someone who has been alone all my life, it’s difficult to understand how another person would willingly choose that path.”

He seemed to ponder her words before nodding curtly and disappearing around the corner. Ignoring the doubt beginning to niggle deep inside her, she headed back into the salon. The more she immersed herself in work, the less time she had to dwell on the fake marriage she wished was real.

For most of the day, she did a really good job at it. Right up until Dex’s mathletes showed up in the salon at closing time. The teens burst through the door nearly as one unit, their faces lit with broad smiles. The large shiny trophy Rehema was holding explained their boisterous mood.

Andi couldn’t help but get swept up in their joy. “Oh, my gosh! You won!”

“We kicked some butt,” Louis said proudly.

“Crushed ‘em is more like it,” Eugene added. “They’ve been the city champs for three years straight, but not today. Professor McMath is the boss!”

Her heart leapt to her throat as she scanned the room for Dex. She wasn’t ready to face him again. Not yet.

“He had to go to the team meeting and then the hotel.” Rehema eyed her shrewdly. “We told him not to tell you because we wanted to surprise you with the news.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Andi replied after breathing a relieved sigh. “I’m sure he is very proud of you. So am I.”

“We’re getting our tour of the stadium on Tuesday,” Angela announced.

Several of their faces dimmed.

“Um,” Angela continued. “We were wondering if you can come, too. That way maybe Professor McMath will be in a better mood.”

Oh no. Not the mathletes, too.

“I’d love too, but unfortunately I have to work that day,” Andi hedged. “And I’m sure Dex wasn’t in a bad mood. He’s just stressed about tomorrow’s game. They need to win to stay ahead in their division.”

If you’d asked her three months ago if she would know, much less care, about the Growlers’ record, she would have laughed. Oh how times had changed.

Eugene snorted. “He never stresses over a game. He’s like a machine.”

“And I didn’t say he was in a bad mood. He was just distracted.” Angela added.

“Yeah. And sad,” Rehema said.

The group of teens nodded solemnly. Andi glanced around the salon for some reinforcements, but Clive and the rest of the staff were cleaning up their stations.

“I’m sure he’ll be in a better mood for your tour,” she tried to reassure them.

“Yeah, if you kiss and make up,” Angela insisted.

“I’m sorry?” Surely Mr. I-Am-An-Island hadn’t shared details about their personal life with a group of teenagers.

“We’re not stupid,” Rehema explained. “We have parents. Most of us even have both parents living in the same house. We have eyes, you know.”

Andi was speechless.

“Look,” Eugene said. “We could win state this year. We need Professor McMath to bring his A-game. We can’t have him moping during practice and going through the motions.”

Rehema glared at her teammate. “It’s not just about winning. We want the happy Professor McMath back. The one that showed up after he married you.” She gave Andi a sympathetic smile. “You two are really cute together.”

The teen picked up the trophy and gestured to the door with her chin. Her teammates silently filed out.

“What was that about?” Clive asked.

Once again, she had to work to steady her voice. “They wanted to let me know they’d won today. That’s all.”

“Daniel is making his famous mojitos for happy hour. Some friends are going to stop over.” He draped his arm over her shoulder and hugged her close. “Maybe we’ll even break out the Karaoke machine.”

The last thing she wanted was to keep up her happy façade in front of Clive and Daniel’s friends. It was bad enough she had to pretend to be okay in front of her own friends. But she couldn’t very well hide out in their guest room studying with a party going on.

“Actually, I was going to head back over to the penthouse tonight.” She wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but it was a good one. “Dex will be at the team hotel so I’ll have the place to myself. I can study and grab some more of my things.” The more she talked, the more sense her plan made. Especially if Marlene had made some Snickerdoodles.

“You do realize you’re choosing your fake husband’s surly cat over your friends?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s not that. I’m just not feeling very festive tonight and I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer at your party. Besides, Morag will probably shriek with glee when she sees me carrying more of my stuff out of the penthouse.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Suit yourself. My money is on you anyway. It always is.”

Thirty minutes later, Andi entered the penthouse. Marlene had already left for the evening, leaving Andi alone in the quiet. She snatched a few cookies from the plate Dex’s assistant always left in the kitchen and wandered down the hall. Maybe it was Trey Van Horn’s or Rehema’s words, but Andi felt something a lot like grief hovering in the air. It was as if the life had been sucked out of the place.

“Don’t let them get to you,” she murmured to herself. “Dex is fine. He made his own choices.”

Her suite was just as she left it. She set her backpack on the table in front of the gas fireplace and glanced up at the beautiful landscape. Even it had an eerie quality to it. Tamping down on her silly emotions, she quickly changed into some leggings and a T-shirt and forced herself to get down to studying.

She’d just settled into the big chair in front of the fireplace when something soft brushed against her ankles, startling her.

“Morag.”

She steeled herself for the retaliatory scratch that was sure to follow from the meddlesome cat. But none came. Instead, Morag plopped down, cocked her head and stared up at her before releasing a soft, plaintive meow.

“What kind of game are you playing?” she asked, suspiciously.

Morag responded with a swish of her tail and another pleading meow.

“Do you actually want me to pet you?”

Before she knew what was happening, the cat was in her lap, purring loudly before curling up in a ball and closing her eyes. Andi kept herself still, unsure how to respond. Morag’s contented purrs reverberated against Andi’s stomach. Gently, she brushed her fingers along the cat’s silky fur. Morag arched into her touch, much to her delight.

They sat like that for several long moments until the cat went limp with sleep. Andi tried to finish the chapter she was reading for accounting, but her thoughts kept drifting. She gazed down at Dex’s cat, slumbering in her lap. Morag had come to her for reassurance. For comfort.

You brought him out of the shadows he was hiding in, Andi. Don’t give up on him.Trey Van Horn’s earlier words echoed inside her head, Rehema’s plea chasing behind it. We want the happy Professor McMath back. The one that showed up after he married you.

Was the cat trying to tell her the same thing? The breath got stuck in her lungs. Was Dex really as down as everyone was claiming? Because of her? Something else Van Horn said floated to the top of her memory.

A bone-deep melancholy that I suspect is why he doesn’t go home to Scotland.

Could it be that he wasn’t ashamed of her? That he didn’t want her to meet his family for some other reason?

Suddenly, her breath was moving more freely again, but now it was coming so fast and furious she was panting. The letters.

Maybe there was some clue in the letters Dex’s sister had sent. Andi carefully scooped up the cat, earning her a sleepy side-eye but thankfully no scratch, and headed into the bedroom. Something had kept her from opening the letters the other night. A mix of pride and shame. If he didn’t want her to know his family, then she wasn’t going to torture herself by reading his sister’s missives. Worse, she suspected she couldn’t have handled it if the letters contained even more rejection.

But that didn’t matter now. She needed answers. And she was hopeful she’d find them within the pages of Annis’ elegant stationary.

Settling Morag beside her on the bed, she opened the nightstand where she stashed the letters and pulled them out. She arranged them in order according to their postmarks and cautiously slid her finger against the seal to open the first one.

“Here goes nothing.”

Morag swished her tail against Andi’s thigh in encouragement.

By the time she’d read the fourth letter, she was a mass of conflicting emotions. Frustration and sadness tugging at her chest painfully, while another, more powerful feeling bubbled up inside her.

Hope.

She fingered her grandmother’s cross for courage. Because now that she had the answers, it was time to enact a plan.

“Come on, Morag.” Andi jumped up from the bed. “We’ve got a lot of work to do tonight.”