27: Dropping the Gloves Read online

  I headed to my truck, parked behind Marlo’s car, as she pulled out Rori’s booster. Opening the back door, I waited for Marlo to come back.

  “It just…sits there?” I asked, reaching for the seat when she brought it.

  She nodded. “Yes. She’s good with buckling herself, too.”

  “Okay.” I slid the seat on the back bench. “Good?”

  Marlo slowly grinned—she grinned—at me. “Yeah. That’s good.”

  I couldn’t help but grin back. “Great.” I stared down at her, itching to pull her in my arms—where she belonged.

  Where she’d always belonged.

  It just took an act of stupidity on my part, to fully realize it.

  I forced myself to look beyond her. “You ready, Rore?”

  “Yes!” She bounced around excitedly.

  After I helped her up into my truck, I turned back to Marlo, fighting to keep inappropriate words at bay. Now was not the time to say I missed her.

  So instead, I said, “I’ll have her back by five.”

  Chapter Nine

  Marlo

  I tried convincing myself that I made extra for dinner because I was hungry.

  I did skip lunch.

  The problem with trying to convince myself of this was, I never was a good liar.

  Then there was the fact that I made a homemade spaghetti sauce, a meal that Jordan used to rave over before games.

  It’s Rori’s favorite.

  Yep.

  Still trying to convince myself.

  I took the sauce off the heat, keeping the lid on to keep it warm. The noodles were already drained and ready to go; I just had to take the garlic bread out of the oven in two minutes.

  I glanced at the clock.

  Rori and Jordan would be back in a few minutes.

  I’m not going to ask him to stay for dinner.

  Spaghetti made for great leftovers.

  Nodding to myself, convinced—for now—that I wasn’t going to extend the invitation, I moved to the plate of snickerdoodles I made earlier, taking two more off the plate and putting it in the air-tight container that housed the others.

  Lots of spaghetti.

  Lots of bread.

  And two snickerdoodle cookies.

  One for me. One for Rori.

  And not because they were Jordan’s favorite.

  All while I wore a maxi dress, when my usual attire was active capris and t-shirts.

  It was a nice day to wear a dress. Rori likes this one.

  With the front window open, I heard as Jordan pulled into the drive, just as the oven timer went off. Immediately, my heart began to pound.

  It was getting harder to remind myself that he left.

  With the way he looked, sitting on my couch yesterday… The way he smiled at me this morning…

  I pulled open the oven, allowing the blast of heat to take over my thoughts. I could see myself folding to Jordan.

  I missed him.

  “Knock, knock.” Jordan’s voice filtered through the small house.

  “Momma! I got to pet a turtle!” Rori’s excited voice wasn’t far behind her father’s.

  “Shoes, sport.”

  After placing the cookie tray with garlic bread on the stove top, I dropped the oven mitt and walked out of the kitchen. “I’m sure that was exciting,” I answered Rori, nearing the two of them.

  Rori was sitting on her hind-end, pulling off her shoes without untying them, and Jordan remained standing.

  “It was!” Rori scrambled to stand.

  “Go wash your hands, Rori girl.”

  She ran off to the hall bathroom, and before I could say something to Jordan, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

  “I should head out. I had a good time with her today. Thank you.”

  “Anytime,” I said, following with, “Would you, maybe, want to stay for dinner?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  So much for staying strong.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, really.” I shrugged. “I made enough.”

  He regarded me, not saying a word. His eyes were squinted just slightly, his lips parted just enough…

  “I mean, you don’t have to.”

  “No. Yeah. I mean, sure, I can stay.”

  I let out a relieved breath and smiled. “Okay. Good. It’s ready.”

  “Good night, Rori girl,” I said from the door, my hand on the light switch.

  After dinner, I gave her a quick shower and got her ready for bed. She requested Jordan stay and read her a book, and after, it was my turn to tuck her in. Jordan stepped into the living room and gave us a moment.

  “Night, momma. Thank you.”

  I rested my head against the jam, peering into the dark room. “For what, baby?”

  “For letting me play with my daddy today.” Her voice was getting sleepy.

  “Of course,” I whispered. I prayed she would never remember the days of strain; the days he wasn’t around.

  Her need to impress him, I thought, remembering the day of the barbeque.

  I prayed that everything Jordan said the other day, how much of what we’d been through these last five years, were due to juvenile mistakes.

  Mistakes on both our parts.

  “I love you, Aurora.”

  Her reply was hardly audible, and I slipped from her room, closing the door softly behind me. I took a breath and headed toward the living room, unsure what I would find.

  Did Jordan leave? Was he getting ready to leave?

  When I entered the living room, I found Jordan standing in front of the canvas print I had of Rori.

  “She was newly four in that picture,” I said. I must have startled him, because I saw his shoulders draw back.

  “She looks so much like you,” he said quietly. “I hate that I missed so many years.”

  “She has more years. You have time.” I meant the words.

  “Yeah, but I know…”

  I heard his heavy sigh and watched as he turned. I stayed in my spot, standing beside the couch.

  “I should probably head out. Thank you for dinner.”

  I was surprised to find I was disappointed. “Okay.” I nodded and tried to smile. “I’m glad you stayed for dinner. Rori enjoyed it.”

  “I did too.” He looked like he was battling himself, like he had something else to say, but instead he walked to the door.

  I followed behind, my hands in the pockets of my dress. I didn’t want to sound like I was begging but, “I’d like it if you could stay a minute.” I trailed off, looking at the ground when we stopped by the door and he turned toward me. “You had your chance to talk.”

  “You have things to say?” His words were spoken softly, curiously.

  “Some.”

  “Then, I’ll stay.”

  I looked up then and gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

  We moved back into the living room and after Jordan sat, I excused myself to the kitchen. I pulled out my favorite sweet Riesling and poured a healthy glass. After a small sip, I tipped my head back and drank the rest like it was juice.

  Setting the wine glass back to the counter, I braced my hands on the Formica countertop and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath through my nose.

  “You okay?” Jordan’s voice startled me, my eyes flying open.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head then forced a smile. “I just needed a moment.”

  “We don’t need to do this now.”

  “It was my idea.”

  “Well, I know, but…”

  “I’m good.” I nodded, reinforcing the statement. “Let’s go sit.”

  Once again in the living room, we took the same spots we were in the other morning, the same positions. My mouth worked, but I couldn’t get words out. Couldn’t figure out how to start.

  Finally, I said, a slight chuckle on my lips, “Shoot, I used to be able to talk to you about anything. And now…I can’t figure out how to start.”

 
Jordan dropped his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

  “That wasn’t meant to be a jab. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No. No, it’s fine.”

  I reached for a pillow and cradled it to my chest. Then, unable to look at him while I spoke, I started. “I was thrown by the divorce.” I nodded a few times in thought. “After everything we had been through over the previous three years, I was”—I shook my head then— “absolutely thrown. Then, I was hurt. Angry. Your family stopped wanting to talk to me—”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  Now I looked at him. “They did,” I said sadly. “But you had your turn. It’s mine. Let me talk.”

  At his nod, I continued. “Once, I could have conversations with your mom for hours. After you left, she would rush to get off the phone. Your sisters wouldn’t even take my calls. I know you said you invited Rori to your parents’ house but I think I only received invites—by text, mind you—for the first year or so. Eighteen months, maybe.

  “When I finally got over that hurt, I was pissed. You know, normal stages of grieving.” I’d recognized it even then and tried everything in my power to not let it affect raising my infant daughter. “But that anger quickly morphed from pissed at our divorce, to pissed at you for not taking time to see Rori.” My eyes started to water and my voice dropped, words cutting out as I admitted, “We tried so hard for her, and you didn’t want to see her.”

  “I wa—”

  “Let me talk.” My voice was surprisingly calm for the boiling that was happening in my blood. I wasn’t mad now, but the memories…

  “I know you said the things about the phone and it helps to make everything make sense but…” I sighed. “At the time, it made a different type of sense. You didn’t love me. You never wanted Rori.” I shrugged. “Heck, after the first miscarriage, you were unaffected.” The tears started to drop down my cheeks. “It made sense that you didn’t want to be in Rori’s life.”

  “Marlo, that’s not true.” His voice had a strange quality to it. “That is absolutely not true.”

  “You say that now.” My words were whisper soft as I stared at him, unblinking, tears falling over my lower lids slowly as they overfilled. “You spent time with her. She’s an awesome kid.”

  “She is, and it’s because of you.” Quickly, Jordan stood and then he was sitting next to me, the cushion dipping with his weight. His hand bunched on his leg before suddenly he was grasping mine. “Every miscarriage, Mar…Every single one killed me,” he whispered.

  I kept my eyes trained to my lap.

  His other hand went to my cheek, forcing my head toward him. Still, I kept my eyes down. However, now my eyes were focused on his leg.

  “Marlo.” His thumb dropped to my chin and he forced my face up so my eyes had no choice but to follow. “I loved you. Don’t ever doubt that. Everything you went through to have Rori, gutted me. To see you so broken and there was nothing I could do to help you, it absolutely killed me. By the time we had her…” He shook his head and I could read the sadness in his eyes. “My head was already somewhere else. It had nothing to do with Rori. Nothing.”

  I sucked my lips in, pushing them together. His gaze held mine captive. I wanted to believe him.

  So badly.

  I wanted to…

  I do.

  And it made me weak.

  Five years of hurt. Five years of confusion. And just like that, I forgave him? I was weak toward him.

  Always had been.

  So weak…

  And then his hands were on my face, his lips lowered to mine…

  And I was a goner.

  His lips felt the same.

  His hands gently cradling my face, felt the same.

  Soon, I was kissing him back and that too, felt the same.

  So, so weak…

  Jordan

  I shouldn’t have started this. She’s looked so sad, so broken, and I needed to do something to put her back together again. It was deep-seated in me.

  I should stop this. Should pull back…

  But I couldn’t.

  Marlo’s mouth on mine was like coming home.

  I reached for her and pulled her onto my lap as our kiss grew frantic.

  Needy.

  My hands sat on top of her ass, my thumbs pressing into her sides. She kept her hands on me, taking control of the kiss. Tongues fighting for dominance, kisses fighting for that bottom-lip suck. When I finally got ahold of hers, I left her with a nip before diving right back in.

  Fuck if it wasn’t too soon…

  It should have never ended.

  Marlo’s hands kneaded over my shoulders before hooking one hand around my neck. Her thumb rubbing against the bottom of my hairline had me twitching down below but if she noticed, her actions didn’t show it.

  She shifted on my lap and my cock responded, the twitch turning into a hardening.

  We can’t do this.

  Everything was still too raw.

  With every ounce of willpower I had in me, I pulled back from the kiss.

  Regrettably.

  And when Marlo’s soft moan filled my ears, I had to fight one of my own.

  “We shouldn’t, Mar,” I managed.

  She bit her lip, her eyes casting downward. Finally, she shook her head and slid off my lap. “No. We really shouldn’t.”

  After swallowing hard, I stood and reached for her hand, pulling her up next to me. “I can’t erase the past.”

  “I know.” Her voice was soft and finally, she lifted her eyes to mine again. “We’re different people now.”

  I just nodded, not knowing what else to say. I squeezed her hand before letting it go, making my way back to the front door.

  I could feel Marlo following behind me.

  Some things didn’t change, and things about Marlo—her walk, her talk, her gaze, her presence—they all hit me square in the memory banks. I wasn’t even back in San Diego two weeks, and already I wanted things to go back to the way they were.

  The way they were before the miscarriages and the falling apart. The fears of inadequacy.

  “I’d like it if you and Rori came to the game on Tuesday,” I said, looking down on her.

  Her eyes widened. “I can’t sit with—”

  I shook my head. “Not with the wives.”

  “We can’t let people get the wrong idea,” Marlo said, confirming what I thought. “Besides, it will be too late for her. She has school the next day.”

  She didn’t want the women to think she and I were together again.

  Not that that wasn’t a bad idea.

  Two weeks back here, though, was the wrong timeframe to do it.

  If I was going to fully win back my wife—I should have never let her go in the first place—it was going to take time.

  The things that meant most, should be given time.

  I gave up too easily before. I let outside factors drive me away.

  But like Marlo said—we were different people now. I just had to prove to her that I was a better person now.

  “I’ll have two tickets at Will Call for you and Rori. It would mean a lot to me for Rori to watch me play.” I put my hand on her face, hit with the memories of just how small she was next to me. “I also would like for you to be there. Even if you two are only there for an hour.”

  She nodded slightly and when she parted her lips to speak, I couldn’t stop my eyes from dropping to them.

  One taste, and I was ready for another.

  “Okay, we’ll be there.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Thank you.” Then, before I could change my mind or think better of it, I claimed her lips once more.

  Quick, yet chaste.

  And when I left, it was with the sense that things were going to start looking up.

  Chapter Ten

  Marlo

  I’d missed the games.

  The energy in the arena.

  Most importantly, I realized by Jordan’s third shift on the ice
, I missed watching number 27 play.

  He’d always played with such passion.

  Drive.

  Grit.

  “Momma, watch him skate!” Rori exclaimed beside me, bouncing up and down in her seat.

  “I see, Rore,” I said with a slight laugh.

  The seats Jordan had for us were in the lower bowl, near the away net. I guess he had high hopes of the Enforcers scoring more than San Jose.

  By the time the second period rolled around, Rori was exhausted and sleeping in her seat. I debated leaving with her but all it took was one lingering look from Jordan, all the way over on the team bench, and I decided to stay.

  That kiss on Saturday...

  I didn’t know what I’d been thinking. You didn’t divorce a man, go through five years of hurt, and then jump on his lap the first chance you got.

  It wasn’t the first chance…

  No, but it certainly wasn’t good timing.

  If this was to happen—and it was a pretty big ‘if’—we needed time to get to know one another again. Saying that you were sorry, that a teammate took your phone and altered a number, wasn’t exactly a get out of jail free card. Jordan may not have cheated on me, but he did think about it…at a time when we were going through pregnancy issues.

  What if I decided to give him another chance?

  I dated a handful of times, sure, but Jordan was really the only one I knew.

  What if we moved along in life, as if we never took this…break…and something happened to make Jordan look away again? This time, it wouldn’t just be me a break-up would affect.

  Rori was old enough to know.

  We couldn’t do this.

  Mentally I shook my head. We couldn’t.

  Suddenly, there was an eruption of cheers, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked toward the ice and saw a celebration in front of the San Jose net. I glanced over the numbers on ice, finding Jordan’s inside the mix. His smile was large and telling.

  He scored the goal.

  Two-to-one.

  I clapped my hands and smiled as if I had witnessed the entire thing, but my mind was still one hundred miles away. I glanced down at a sleeping Rori, and was, for now, content in my decision.

  For Rori.

  Always for Rori.