Keeping Score (Brooklyn Monarchs 3)

“It’s not my career. It’s the other players.” Marlon Burress had been even more zealous in his defense once he realized Warrick’s back was flaring up.

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” Her tone remained soft, her words measured.

Warrick tensed beneath her touch. “What are you saying?”

“Relax.” Marilyn rubbed his bunched muscles with her palms.

Warrick’s body obeyed her command. “What do you mean?”

Marilyn’s massage continued up toward his shoulders. “You have a sizable savings. You’ve been very prudent with your investments. You could retire.”

Warrick frowned. “And do what?”

“Well, other retired athletes have done commercials. Doesn’t Michael Jordan do underwear commercials?”

Warrick grunted. “Jordan can get away with doing underwear commercials. He has six championship rings.”

“Then you can do something else. You have enough money that you can take your time and figure out what you want to do. And I make good money.”

“I’m not living off my wife.” His voice was flat.

“It wouldn’t be forever.” She used extra effort to ease his newly knotted muscles. “Only until you decided what you want to do next.”

Warrick struggled to remain relaxed. “I’m not done with basketball.”

Marilyn continued her soothing massage and hypnotic tone. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

Warrick lifted his head to meet her eyes. He felt cold and isolated when her hands fell away from him. “What’s on your mind, Mary?”

Marilyn moved to his side before returning his gaze. “I heard your conversation with your father.” She jerked her chin toward the phone on her nightstand. “You probably didn’t realize you were taping the call.”

Warrick rolled over and got to his feet in one motion. “No, I didn’t.”

Behind him, Marilyn shifted on the bed. “I didn’t mean to listen. When I got home, the machine showed it had one saved message. I was just checking it.”

“It’s all right.” Warrick stepped away from the bed.

Could this day get any worse? His father’s words had followed him onto the court. Now they were getting between him and his wife.

“He’s wrong, you know.” Marilyn’s tone was tentative.

“What about?” He heard her rise from the bed.

“Your father implied you weren’t good enough for me. He’s wrong.”

Warrick turned toward her. “Then why are we sleeping in separate rooms?”

Marilyn twisted her fingers together. “I don’t know whether I can live with everything that comes with your popularity. That’s not how I envisioned our life together.”

They were right back where they’d started. Their marriage had morphed into a merry-go-round. “Then why haven’t you left? What’s keeping you here?”

She looked as though he’d slapped her. “It’s not as though I can turn off a switch and not be in love with you anymore.”

Warrick crossed his arms. “You’re standing in front of me, telling me you love me. But you admit you have one foot out the door. Which is it?”

Marilyn crossed her arms as well. “Both. You never warned me you were a star when we were dating.”

Warrick’s chuckle surprised even him. “How would that have seemed?” He extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Rick Evans and I’m a star.”