A Lie for a Lie (All In 1)

Poppy gives her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s really only been himself again the past couple of months.”

“Since the birthday party, actually,” Violet adds. “Last year he didn’t date at all. He was like a monk. Worse than he was after that fake pregnancy.”

“Fake pregnancy?” I remember seeing something about that in one of the many unpleasant articles I ran across when I looked him up after I found out he’d lied about his job.

“Oh yeah, like a couple years after he came to Chicago, he had this woman who was obsessed with him to the point that she faked a pregnancy. She even took plaster casts of her pregnant sister’s belly and pretended she was expecting. She was all over social media with it until Rookie got his lawyer involved.”

“Has anything like that happened since?” I can’t imagine how I would deal with that.

“Nah. Rookie’s been on the straight path for a long while, so no crazy bunny business since then. He was celibate for a good year after that went down.”

“She was really crazy,” Sunny adds.

“Crazier than me, even,” Violet says. “Anyway, Rookie settled right down after that. And then when Alex retired, he stepped into the role of captain, and he’s been pretty grounded ever since. It’s hard to get in trouble when all your friends have kids and wives.”

These are all the things I need to hear, I realize. It confirms again that the man I met in Alaska and the one who’s come back into my life recently aren’t different at all. It’s just his job that’s not what I thought it was. That one omission doesn’t change who he is as a whole, and it doesn’t diminish the connection we had before or what we’re trying to build now. As I sit with these women and get to know him through them, I find myself growing more confident that I can handle this part of his life. The more I get to know him outside of our little cosmos, the more I want to make this work. And it will be a whole lot easier for both of us if I move in with him.The transition from having my own apartment to moving into RJ’s house takes place gradually, over the course of the next several weeks. I run into Walter again in the elevator, and he’s sure to tell me, three times, that he’s on his way over to his girlfriend’s place.

Exhibition games start—those are a lot more crowded than practice—but I’ve discovered that I don’t have to enter the arena the same way everyone else does. I have the option to sit behind the bench—or up in one of the private boxes.

The other wives, specifically Sunny, Poppy, Violet, Charlene, and Lily, take me under their wing and act almost like my personal bodyguards. I learn how to deal with the media—at first they’re very interested in me and Kody.

RJ gives an exclusive interview explaining how we met, fell in love, and then, by the most unfortunate of circumstances, lost touch. It’s all made to sound very romantic, and he paints a picture of me that I don’t recognize but like all the same. He calls me brave and strong and brilliant, and I love him even more for it.

When the regular season begins, I discover how difficult it is to be without him. But at least when he’s away I have Kody.

During his first series of away games we have a warm spell in Chicago, and with it comes a storm. I’ve come a long way in the past year with the help of regular therapy, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to appreciate the beauty of a thunderstorm the way I once did as a child.

I pull all the curtains closed so I don’t have to watch the lightning and thunder, change into one of RJ’s flannel shirts so I’m surrounded by his smell, and check on Kody. He’s sleeping peacefully.

I turn on his lullaby soundtrack and settle into the glider in his room, breathing through the anxiety, reminding myself that we’re safe at home. After a few minutes my phone buzzes in my breast pocket. I slip out of Kody’s room to answer the video call.

“Hey, baby, I just saw the weather—you all right?” Worry creases his forehead.

“I’m okay—congratulations on winning the game tonight.” I try not to flinch at the rumble of thunder.

“Thanks. I wish I was there with you.” He runs a hand through his wet hair. Based on the background, he’s in his hotel room.

“Me too, but Kody’s sleeping peacefully, and I’m wrapped in you, so I’ll be fine,” I assure him as I move the phone over my torso. When I return to my face, his expression has shifted from worry to hunger.

“Is that my shirt?”

“Mmm. It’s almost like you’re here with me when I can smell you.” I sniff the collar, where his cologne is the strongest.