The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata Page 0,140
I’d been the only woman in Aiden’s life, and for a little while, I’d been ‘the new girl’ because most of them hadn’t been convinced I was his assistant and our relationship was solely a business one.
And now…
Well, now I looked like a lying schmuck when there really hadn’t been anything going on between Aiden and me in the past. But it wasn’t like anyone was going to believe that now, even if I hadn’t seen them since his injury last October.
If I wanted to be honest with myself, I was dreading it a little.
Okay, more than a little.
I had to really reach down into my spine and pump some steel into it, reminding myself that I knew I hadn’t lied to anyone. As long as I knew that, it was all I would need. I was there for Aiden, not anyone else. In my head, I kept repeating those words as I marched through security checkpoint after security checkpoint with my pass and ID in my back pocket ready to get put to good use.
The ‘family room’ was really just a glorified area on the way toward the players’ parking lot, with a few couches and circular tables, clear away from the media. I took my time walking over, but it came too quickly anyway. With one last security check, I raised my chin up high and walked into the room like it was no big deal, like I had nothing to feel bad about.
The room was packed. Packed with kids and women and men of all ages. It was stuffed full of Three Hundreds’ apparel. The first “Oh, honey, congratulations!” smacked me right between the shoulder blades, and while I wasn’t any sort of actress, I didn’t like being a rude asshole when it was me being deceptive.
So I turned around and tried to give the woman talking a bright expression.
What followed was probably one of the most painful thirty minutes I’d ever spent, and that was saying a lot considering my last trip to El Paso had sucked complete ass.
“I am so happy for you!”
“You two are meant for each other!”
“Are you expecting?”
“You have to make sure to always support your man.”
“Make sure to plan the baby for the offseason!”
Meant for each other? My man? A fucking baby?
I wasn’t sure how I didn’t throw up. Honestly. Then there were all the subtle comments about how an NFO player’s wife, especially a player for the Three Hundreds, was supposed to act. The players were supposed to be the center of the universe. Families were preferably not seen and not heard. ‘We’ were the invisible support systems.
I didn’t know a lot about the women, but I knew enough about the guys from the bits and pieces that Zac occasionally shared with me, and only a few of them were impressive. And if a guy was a piece of crap, what was his girlfriend or significant other like?
It was when I was in the middle of thinking about things like that, that I remembered I was married to the person who was considered by many to be the biggest asshole on the team. At least according to what Zac had told me in the past. He wasn’t friendly, much less open, and he put zero effort into establishing friendships with anyone, much less the spouses and families of the people he played alongside with. He’d said it time and time again, he didn’t have time for friendships or relationships.
What did that say about me? I was a lying asshole and a prostitute, depending on how you analyzed the facts.
I was in the middle of trying to lie to one of the vets’ wives that I’d already had a Thanksgiving meal when players began trickling into the room. Apparently, her husband was one of them because she patted my arm almost immediately after peeking over my shoulder. “I’ll have to get your phone number next game. We should get together, babe.”
On top of being an asshole and a prostitute, I was an imposter. Here were these women who were trying to be nice and include me—though a portion of them were those who had turned me off from hanging out in the family box—and here was I. A fake wife. I was a person who would be out of their lives in a few years, if not sooner depending on whatever Aiden decided in the near future.
Maybe this whole hanging-out-in-the-family-room thing hadn’t been a good idea.