Keeping Score

“I knew the Monarchs had it in them.” Julian stepped back, apparently not interested in moving the NBA finals discussion from the front entrance of his turn-of-the-century home. “You know, I’ve watched you play since you were with the Rutgers Scarlet Knights.”

DeMarcus set his travel bag on the gleaming hardwood floor. “Pop, Rick already heard this story during our play-off party.”

Julian’s dark eyes, so like his son’s, still danced with excitement. “It’s my favorite story.” He turned to Warrick. “Never mind. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when Marc leaves.”

“You’re leaving?” Warrick looked at DeMarcus. “How are you getting home?”

“I’m driving him.” Jaclyn’s voice joined the conversation.

Warrick looked up as the franchise owner crossed into the entranceway.

Jaclyn stopped beside DeMarcus, taking her fiancé’s hand. “Don’t look at me that way. You think you have to do everything yourself. I knew you wouldn’t have accepted a more conventional invitation.”

Warrick lowered his bag to the floor. “I appreciate your concern, but I’d already checked into a hotel.”

“Isn’t this better?” Her voice was soft persuasion.

Warrick looked from the concern in her bright eyes to Julian’s welcoming smile and DeMarcus’s watchful expression. They’d arranged to have him come here not because he needed a place to stay but because he needed a place to heal. They’d tricked him because they cared. “You’re right.”

Jaclyn looked relieved. Her chin lifted to its normal cocky angle. “Aren’t I always?”

“Oh, brother.” DeMarcus lifted Warrick’s bag to his shoulder. “Let me show you to the guest room before I throw up the handful of peanuts they served on the plane.”

“Very funny.” Jaclyn’s sarcasm followed them upstairs.

DeMarcus took him to the guest room. He deposited Warrick’s suitcase at the foot of the bed. “I’ve never slept in here, but I’m sure you’ll be comfortable.”

Warrick stood awkwardly with his arms at his sides. “Thanks, man.” The words didn’t seem expressive enough. “I mean it.”

DeMarcus slapped his arm. “You’re more than a valued member of the Monarchs. You’re a friend.”

He gave Warrick a quick tour of the top floor before leading him back downstairs. Jaclyn and Julian stood as he and DeMarcus entered the study.

Jaclyn went to DeMarcus. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” DeMarcus hugged his father. “See you later, Pop.”

“Drive carefully and congratulations again.” Julian released his son to give Jaclyn a hug and a kiss. “Take care of my boy.”

Jaclyn smiled. “Always.” She turned to kiss Warrick’s cheek. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” Warrick hugged her tight. “Thanks.”

Jaclyn returned his embrace. “What are friends for?”

Warrick’s tension was easing. It was as though a pressure had been lifted from his chest and shoulders. He’d felt on the outside for so long—outside his marriage, outside his team. He hadn’t realized the toll that was taking on him, heart and soul.

Julian returned from escorting DeMarcus and Jaclyn to the front door.

Warrick faced him. “Mr. Guinn—Julian—thank you for letting me stay in your home.” For how long was anyone’s guess.

Julian waved a hand. “You’re welcome, Rick. There’s more than enough room for the two of us. Stay as long as you’d like.”

Warrick crossed to the study’s bay window. “I don’t know how long it will take for Mary and me to work things out.” Or even if we can.

“Marriages go through periods of adjustment.” Julian’s voice carried from across the room. “Being a celebrity, you have a marriage with more to adjust to than most.”

Warrick crossed his arms as he contemplated the quiet Park Slope neighborhood outside. “It shouldn’t matter what other people say or write about us. It’s our marriage—Mary’s and mine. We’re the only people who should matter.”