“He, uh . . . advised me against marrying my ex-wife, Bridget,” I say, feeling out the best way to approach this subject. “Do you know much about my marriage? What have you heard?”
“Just that it’s over. You told me that. Remember? I don’t really follow basketball.” She frowns. “Is there something I should know?”
When Bridget cheated with my teammate Cliff, it felt like the whole world knew, and yet I’m dreading telling this one woman the ugly facts.
“A simple Google search could tell you all the dirty details,” I say, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “The shit I hate most would come up first.”
“I haven’t done a Google search on you,” she says. “It didn’t feel right.” She looks embarrassed, but has no idea how much she just pleased me.
“Don’t google me. Anything you want to know, ask. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you the truth.”
“Okay.” She pulls her hands free of mine and looks up at me boldly. “Then tell me why you acted that way when I bumped into you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was getting around to,” I say wryly.
She folds slim arms under her breasts and waits.
“My ex-wife cheated on me with one of my friends. With a teammate.”
Shock rounds her full lips into an O, and her arms fall limply to her sides. “With your teammate,” she repeats faintly.
“Yes, they were caught in a hotel. Turns out a reporter discovered it and had been following them, so he had photographic evidence. All of which he released to the highest bidder. It was on TMZ, ESPN, all the blogs. Everyone knew.”
“How could she?” Lotus asks, her brows drawn into an angry dip. “What’d she do when it came out?”
“Well there was no denying it. The photographs were all the evidence needed.” Displeasure twists my lips. “Not to mention the gracious friends and distant relatives who gave interviews and shared information.”
“Oh, Kenan. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s behind me now, but I . . .” I take her hands in mine again. “I told myself I’d never be made a fool of that way again. When I was in your office today, I felt foolish—like I was the butt of some joke. Like everyone knew how much I . . .”
My words fade, but we look at each other and know, even though we don’t say it. We both know how much I like her. How much I want her.
“Anyway,” I continue. “I started thinking has she been talking about us? Would she talk to the press, too?”
“What?” She releases an affronted gasp. “I would never do that.”