The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill
Thirty-Six
Kendall
I’m so nervous I think I might throw up.
I’ve known this night was coming since Marek informed me that I was one of the recipients of the Pilots’ annual recognition back in May. But now that it’s actually happening, with everything that’s transpired between then and now, I stand backstage having a mini freak-out session with the knowledge that Zeke is somewhere out there in the audience. A heavy dose of lightheadedness and crazy nerves wreak havoc on my usually calm demeanor.
When Marek told me about the award ceremony, I was truly humbled and honored to be selected as one of their honorees. It’s been a privilege to work with such a great organization that values their players and the role of mental health in a successful team of athletes. Especially with the media attention and focus on athletes who have had to make the tough choice of putting their mental health as a top priority over competition.
Zeke is one of those athletes. And I’m proud to have been the one chosen by the organization to originally support him in his recovery process. But now I’ve painted myself into a corner. I’m scared of how Zeke will react when he sees me for the first time since our breakup. When he gets a look at me and realizes I’ve changed. As in, grown bigger.
No oversized outfit or jacket is going to hide the fact that I’m pregnant.
Since the night when I last saw him, after I laid on my bathroom floor and sobbed into a towel while wave after wave of indecision and self-loathing pummeled my heart like a punching bag, I’ve been living in a fog of doubt and regret. And now that I’m confronted with the realization of that decision, I want to run and hide.
Maybe I can find Marek and tell him I’m not well. He’ll understand, won’t he?
Then Marek’s voice startles me from behind, as he sidles up next to me at the side of the stage, placing a gentling touch over my shoulder. “You doing okay, Kendall? Can I get you a glass of water before we go out to the podium?”
My mouth suddenly dries up and I nod my head. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.”
He disappears around the corner, and I drop my eyes down the front of my body, the navy and turquoise sparkled dress I chose tonight doing little to hide my baby bump. It’s nowhere near as big as Logan was at this point, but there’s no doubt what I’m carrying.
And it isn’t a basketball under my dress.
The hairs on the back of my head prickle with the feeling someone is watching me. As I lift my head, my gaze lands on a handsome, tuxedo-wearing Zeke from across the stage. A loud cymbal clangs in my ears and my heart jumps wildly inside my chest.
Zeke stares and blinks, his gaze tracing over my body from head to toe. He tilts his head to the side as his focus lands on my protruding stomach. His eyes jump back to mine, filled with incredulity.
“What the hell?” he mouths, enunciating the silent words slowly as the color in his face fades and turns a ghostly white. His forehead wrinkles causing a crinkle to form in in his forehead where his hair is swept to the side.
I’m about to turn and run. Leave the stage and not come back. Cowardliness and the weight of my bad decision and awful timing collide in a mix of fight-or-flight symptoms. Fast heartrate. Shallow breaths. Blurry vision.
But my exit is preempted when Marek returns with a bottle of water in his hands. He uncaps the lid and hands it to me. I take a big gulp, my hand shaking, as the water catches in my throat. I cough, choking down the cold liquid in my parched throat.
“Thank you,” I whisper, glancing up at him.
He offers me a smile and juts a chin across the stage toward Zeke.
“I’d asked Zeke back in May to introduce you tonight. But maybe that isn’t such a good idea after all.” He steps in front of me, a protective instinct to shield me from whatever is happening on the other side of the stage. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
Marek looks at me from over his shoulder and I drop my head with a shake, my hand landing on the curve of my stomach. “No, he doesn’t. And I honestly didn’t think Zeke would be here tonight. I figured he’d want to avoid me.”
Marek turns back to face me with a look I can’t quite read.
“Of course, he would be here. For you. But seeing as he might be in for a big surprise, I should probably go talk to him. I’ll relieve him of his introduction duty and handle it myself.”
His gaze softens and places a hand on my shoulder before he turns and begins to walk behind the stage. But in a last-minute decision, I catch him on the wrist and stop his progress.
“No, Marek. It’ll be fine.” I say this with confidence. My hands shake as I drop them to my side and take a long pull of air into my lungs. This could go either way, but I know Zeke. He won’t make a scene. Not with a ballroom packed with hundreds of people from the community and the local papers and Seattle athletes.
The crowd applauds uproariously as the last presenter and recipient, a local sports newscaster who was awarded for the work he does with children with disabilities, leave the stage, bright smiles across their faces. And then I watch as Zeke casually strides out to the middle of the stage. He adjusts the microphone in front of him, raising it to his height, lays his hands on each side of the podium, smiles at the audience, and begins his introduction.
My knees nearly buckle with trepidation.
“A few of you might remember a scene last May during a game when I collapsed on the court. I wish I could tell you it was because my opponent, Teddy Kimball, was so fierce that he scared me half to death.” He leans into the mic and cups his mouth as if he’s letting the audience in on the secret. “It wasn’t. And he’s not.”
There’s a wave of raucous laughter that crests over the ballroom, followed by a hush that roars loudly in my head.
“The truth is, I wasn’t scared of Teddy. I was nervous and anxious about everything in my life. Anxiety held me captive in my own head for years. It made me believe I wasn’t good enough. That I’d never be good enough. That every time I stepped foot out on that court, I was fooling everyone. The game I was playing wasn’t basketball. The game was about me hiding my secret fears.”
He swallows thickly, clearing his throat and readjusting his grip on the podium with those strong hands of his. The same hands that have gently caressed my body and coaxed me to orgasm many, many times. The hands I miss every night that once held me when I fell asleep, massaging my back and comforting me with their tender strokes.
I know missing him doesn’t change reality. I knew this time would eventually come when he saw me and realized I am pregnant. I knew not to expect him to fall at my feet and pledge his undying love to me or our unborn baby.
Because, in reality, that won’t happen. I saw the look of horror in his eyes from across the stage when his gaze fell to the tell-tale sign of the life growing inside me. The life we created.
“That secret almost destroyed me, as most secrets often do when they’re kept buried and hidden.” Zeke suddenly whips his head to the side and stares at me, his cool eyes boring into mine. I can’t help but flinch, feeling naked under the scrutiny of his stare. He returns his attention to the crowd. “I was living with paralyzing fear and monstrous dread. These dragons cursed me day in and day out until I finally found my own personal dragon slayer. I began working with the brilliant and capable psychologist, Dr. Kendall Rush. Through her approach using techniques from her Rush Method therapy, she gave me the tools within my arsenal to kill my demons and slay my own dragons.
“If it weren’t for Dr. Rush, I might not be standing here on this stage tonight. You see, we athletes are not gods or superheroes, regardless of the way our fans want to put us on pedestals. We don’t possess special powers and we aren’t superhuman. We are all human and we are all flawed. We may be a force to be reckoned with out on the court or in the field, but some of us are trapped inside here.” Zeke taps the side of his forehead with a finger.
“Thankfully, I found the key to solving my mental health dilemma. My very own personal superhero is the one we honor tonight—Dr. Kendall Rush. Without her, my life would be very different tonight. She’s...”
Zeke stops mid-sentence, looks down at his note cards, and turns his head to pin me with a hard glare and then back to the crowd.
He clears his throat. “Please welcome, the deserving recipient of the Pilots’ Progress Award, Dr. Kendall Rush.”
My feet somehow carry me to center stage amidst the applause, where Zeke watches me carefully, a smile plastered across his face, his arms outstretched as if to offer me a hug. When I’m within inches of him, he bends forward, one hand cupping the bicep closest to the crowd. The other hand hidden away from the crowd he places on the side of my protruding belly. Then he hisses in my ear in an angry whisper, too quiet for anyone else to hear but me.
“You owe me an explanation. Tonight.”
I let out a strangled protest, trying to keep the smile across my face as he plants a kiss on my cheek.
He pushes away, and I’m left to fight back tears of guilt and shame as I face a crowd who is here to honor a person of integrity and a pillar of our community.
I bear none of those qualities right now. Not even close.
I’m just a big ol’ fat pregnant liar who’s kept a secret for months from the man she loves.
Go ahead. Hand me a plaque. I deserve that.