The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

Okay, more than a little.

I had to really reach down into my spine and pump some steel into it, reminding myself that I knew I hadn’t lied to anyone. As long as I knew that, it was all I would need. I was there for Aiden, not anyone else. In my head, I kept repeating those words as I marched through security checkpoint after security checkpoint with my pass and ID in my back pocket ready to get put to good use.

The ‘family room’ was really just a glorified area on the way toward the players’ parking lot, with a few couches and circular tables, clear away from the media. I took my time walking over, but it came too quickly anyway. With one last security check, I raised my chin up high and walked into the room like it was no big deal, like I had nothing to feel bad about.

The room was packed. Packed with kids and women and men of all ages. It was stuffed full of Three Hundreds’ apparel. The first “Oh, honey, congratulations!” smacked me right between the shoulder blades, and while I wasn’t any sort of actress, I didn’t like being a rude asshole when it was me being deceptive.

So I turned around and tried to give the woman talking a bright expression.

What followed was probably one of the most painful thirty minutes I’d ever spent, and that was saying a lot considering my last trip to El Paso had sucked complete ass.

“I am so happy for you!”

“You two are meant for each other!”

“Are you expecting?”

“You have to make sure to always support your man.”

“Make sure to plan the baby for the offseason!”

Meant for each other? My man? A fucking baby?

I wasn’t sure how I didn’t throw up. Honestly. Then there were all the subtle comments about how an NFO player’s wife, especially a player for the Three Hundreds, was supposed to act. The players were supposed to be the center of the universe. Families were preferably not seen and not heard. ‘We’ were the invisible support systems.

I didn’t know a lot about the women, but I knew enough about the guys from the bits and pieces that Zac occasionally shared with me, and only a few of them were impressive. And if a guy was a piece of crap, what was his girlfriend or significant other like?

It was when I was in the middle of thinking about things like that, that I remembered I was married to the person who was considered by many to be the biggest asshole on the team. At least according to what Zac had told me in the past. He wasn’t friendly, much less open, and he put zero effort into establishing friendships with anyone, much less the spouses and families of the people he played alongside with. He’d said it time and time again, he didn’t have time for friendships or relationships.

What did that say about me? I was a lying asshole and a prostitute, depending on how you analyzed the facts.

I was in the middle of trying to lie to one of the vets’ wives that I’d already had a Thanksgiving meal when players began trickling into the room. Apparently, her husband was one of them because she patted my arm almost immediately after peeking over my shoulder. “I’ll have to get your phone number next game. We should get together, babe.”

On top of being an asshole and a prostitute, I was an imposter. Here were these women who were trying to be nice and include me—though a portion of them were those who had turned me off from hanging out in the family box—and here was I. A fake wife. I was a person who would be out of their lives in a few years, if not sooner depending on whatever Aiden decided in the near future.

Maybe this whole hanging-out-in-the-family-room thing hadn’t been a good idea.

The good thing was, the regular season was already more than halfway over.

With a loose one-armed hug, she left me standing there alone for the first time since I’d walked into the room. I watched as the players approached their families in varying moods. Some of them had acceptant smiles, some of them had reluctant ones, and others wore sad smiles. A few looked pissed and didn’t bother trying to hide it; it was obvious they would have rather been anywhere else than where they were.

Where was Aiden?

Had he forgotten about me or—

That familiar, big head suddenly appeared in a group of men just slightly smaller than him. Those brown eyes set deep into that broadly painted bone structure scanned the room quickly before they landed on me.

I waved.

His features weren’t molded into any kind of particular emotion as he tipped his chin down. Those fine, full lips mouthed, ‘Ready?’

I smiled and nodded. Making my way through the crowded room, I kept my gaze on Aiden’s face for the most part. I passed by two of the guys I’d done some work for in the past and stopped briefly when one of them shook my hand; the other player, the super sexy one every female Three Hundreds’ fan was in love with, gave me a hug.

I was going to have to tell Diana about it. She’d lost it when I’d told her I was doing some work for him.

Apparently, I must have had a look on my face that said exactly how attractive I found his teammate because Aiden was frowning when I reached him. I could feel the eerie sensation of multiple eyes on me, on us, looking and judging, and I knew what we needed to do. I made my eyes go wide and I flashed him a fake, toothy smile he would definitely realize was a sign to mentally prepare himself.

In hindsight, I should have kissed him.

Instead, I hugged him, my arms going around his waist for the first time ever.

The fact that we’d—literally—slept together but hadn’t even officially hugged was beyond me. This had been two and a half years in the making.