Keeping Score (Brooklyn Monarchs 3)

Marilyn’s knees were knocking. She stumbled across the room and tumbled into an armchair. “I did not marry a child.” Her words were sharp and angry despite her chattering teeth. “I married a responsible adult. This isn’t Rick’s fault. It’s not my fault, either.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Celeste spat the question. “Who told you to open your blinds and have sex on your kitchen table?”

Marilyn bent over in her chair, rocking herself. Why was this happening? And why was her mother blaming her?

She held on to her control with sheer desperation. A respectful daughter would not speak to her parent in anger, no matter how many buttons her mother pushed. “You should be yelling at the photographer who violated our privacy and the publisher who gave his approval to post those photos.”

Dear God, were there really photos posted to the Internet of Warrick and her making love? Was Warrick aware of them? Had he seen them? If so, why hadn’t he told her? If not, how was she going to break this news to him? He didn’t need any more distractions. She needed him to win the conference and the finals so they could move on with their lives.

“We should never have allowed you to move away from home.” Some of the steam drained from Celeste’s tone. “As a child, you always needed direction and you obviously haven’t outgrown that.”

Direction? More like commands. She never had the choice or opportunity to think for herself. She’d always planned to go away to college, if only to escape her parents’ control.

“Mom, I’m thirty-three years old. I’ve been making my own decisions for a long time.”

“Look at where it’s gotten you.” Celeste’s temper was stirring again. “Naked photos of you posted to the Internet.”

“I prefer to concentrate on my medical degree.”

“Of course.” Celeste snorted. “That reminds me. I tried the hospital before calling you at home. The system said yours was a nonworking number. Why is that?”

This was a never-ending nightmare. Marilyn pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was fired this morning.”

“Oh, my God. Was it because of the photos?”

Marilyn swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Mom. It was because of the photos.”

Celeste’s building anger communicated itself across the phone lines almost three thousand miles away. “Marilyn, this relationship with Rick is ruining your reputation and destroying your career. You don’t have to stay with him. Come home.”

“Mom, this isn’t just a relationship. This is my marriage.”

“You made a mistake, but you can do something about it.”

Marilyn shook with impatience, outrage, and embarrassment. Was her marriage a mistake? The disloyal whisper snaked across her thoughts. Her mind recoiled from the suggestion. But she’d been successful at the hospital at first. After her marriage, her relationship with Arthur had deteriorated.

You’d still have your job if it weren’t for those photos. The traitorous thoughts continued.

If it weren’t for Warrick’s celebrity, she wouldn’t have photographers creeping onto her property and peeking through her windows.

How do you know when love isn’t enough?

“My marriage isn’t a mistake.” Her voice lacked conviction.

“You married a professional athlete. You were obviously acting out against the strict upbringing your father and I gave you.”

“I was thirty-one when I married Rick. I wasn’t acting out.” Acting out hadn’t influenced her parents when she’d been sixteen.

“Age has nothing to do with it.” Celeste dismissed Marilyn’s argument like sand shifting through her fingers. “Your marrying a ballplayer was a clear message to us.”

“Then maybe you can explain it to me.”

“Don’t be fresh, Marilyn.” Her mother’s disapproval didn’t faze her. “Your choice of husband told us you were rejecting the structure we gave you in favor of a more irresponsible lifestyle.”

Marilyn rubbed her eyes with her thumb and middle finger. “Mother, you have to separate Rick the man from Rick the ballplayer. Those are two different people.”

“We can’t.” Celeste’s tone was firm. “Whatever Rick does ends up in the news and reflects on our entire family. Think about that the next time you want to pretend that your marriage wasn’t a mistake.” On that note, Celeste disconnected the call.

Marilyn slammed the handset back onto its base. How could her mother blame Warrick? He was as much a victim as she was.