Keeping Score (Brooklyn Monarchs 3)
He offered her a smile. “Denver underestimated us.”
Marilyn gestured to his empty hands. “You’re not carrying a bag.”
“I’ve come to get some more of my things.” He steeled himself against the surprise in her chocolate eyes.
“I’d hoped you were moving back in.”
“I don’t think either of us is ready for that.”
He’d check out of the hotel yesterday. Julian Guinn’s home was the perfect place for him to clear his mind. It was free of distractions, especially since the elder Guinn spent a lot of time with his girlfriend, Althea Gentry.
Warrick felt her eyes on him as he mounted the stairs. He knew he was taking a risk. Marilyn had a point that the media invasion and the fans’ intrusions put a lot of pressure on their relationship. Maybe he should retire, but he didn’t want to make that decision under pressure.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Warrick pulled a suitcase from the guest room closet. He brought it down the hallway to the master bedroom and filled it with clothes and personal items. He packed quickly, then returned downstairs.
Marilyn met him at the foot of the staircase. She laid her hand on his arm. “Rick, I’ve never stopped believing in you, no matter what you think. What can I do to convince you to give me another chance?”
Warrick looked down into her eyes. “That’s up to you, Mary. Can you handle being a celebrity’s wife?”
Marilyn removed her hand. “Let’s get through this season.”
Warrick stepped back. “That’s not enough for me. I need to know I can have forever with you. All or nothing, Mary.”
He turned to leave before the look in her eyes, the touch of her hand, the scent of her skin made him change his mind.
22
Marilyn listened to every word of the radio talk show host’s interview with Jordan Hyatt on Monday afternoon. She’d had enough of the chitchat. Get to the meat of the program.
She wiped her palms on her denim shorts. Restless steps carried her around her family room. The maple flooring was warm under her bare feet. Her heart reverberated in her chest. Was it nerves or anger? Both?
“When and where did you meet Rick Evans?” LaMarr Green asked with easy camaraderie.
Finally!
Marilyn started another loop of the room. How had Susan persuaded her high school friend to arrange this interview so quickly? In less than a week, she and the other members of the Monarchs Wives Club had devised this plan and were ready to execute it. Now she had to remember all the tips her friends had given her—speak confidently, stick to the script, don’t lose control.
“Ricky and I met at a gas station eight months ago. It was after the Monarchs’ first regular season home game.” Jordan Hyatt’s voice was as breathless as an adolescent with her first real crush. “I helped him figure out how to open his gas tank.”
What? Marilyn jerked to a stop. She stared at the black stereo system perched on the silver and glass entertainment center. Warrick had bought his BMW sedan more than five years ago. She’d seen him fill his gas tank hundreds of times—without help.
“Really?” LaMarr seemed skeptical. “That sounds like a scene from Just Wright, that basketball romance movie starring Queen Latifah and Common.”
Jordan giggled. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Yes, it does. Marilyn wasn’t amused. She hugged her arms around herself. “Ask her how many times she’s seen that film.”
Unable to hear Marilyn, LaMarr continued. “You don’t look pregnant.”
“It’s still a bit early in my pregnancy.” Jordan’s response was demur.
“How far along are you?”
“Just three months.”
“And how are you feeling? Any morning sickness?” LaMarr sounded like a concerned friend. If Marilyn didn’t know better, she’d think the two of them were lifelong pals. Any minute now, LaMarr would offer her milk and cookies.
“No, none.” Jordan giggled again.