The Bromance Book Club (Bromance Book Club, #1)(6)
“Another time, sweetie,” Gavin said. “I need to talk to Mommy.”
Amelia made a pouty face—a new, devastatingly effective technique she’d recently discovered. Gavin swallowed hard, and Thea almost felt sorry for him. “I’ll be at your school musical Monday,” he said. “Maybe we can walk Butter after that?”
“I’ll take them for a walk,” Liv said, putting just enough fuck you in her voice to make a point.
Butter danced at the door as Liv reattached his leash and helped the girls into their fleece coats. She walked out but then ducked her head back in the room. “Don’t take too long. We still need to set up your online dating profile.”
The screen door slammed.
Gavin made an indecipherable noise.
Thea hid a smile.
“You’re not answering your phone,” Gavin said as soon as the girls were out of earshot.
“The battery died last night. I didn’t feel like charging it.”
He stepped closer, his eyes softening with concern. “Are you OK?”
Thea ignored the tiny ping-pong of her heart. “I’m not the one who smells like he spent the night on the whiskey trail.”
“I got drunk last night.”
Thea turned toward the wall, ready for another blow. “Celebrating your freedom?”
“If you actually think that, I’ve fucked up worse than I thought.”
The crunch of bat against wall wasn’t as satisfying this time. “Well, that’s kind of a problem, Gavin, because you fucked up pretty bad.”
He didn’t argue. “Are you really setting up an online dating profile?”
“God, no.” Thea snorted, wiping a hand across her forehead. “That’s the last thing I need.” Another man in her life? More promises that couldn’t be trusted? No thanks.
Gavin nodded, relief plain on his features.
“If you’re here to pick up some of your stuff, make it quick because the girls won’t be gone long.”
“I’m not here for my stuff.”
“Then what?”
“I w-w-w . . .”
Thea’s heart did the ping-pong thing again as she watched him fight against the muscles of his throat.
Gavin finally rushed into his sentence. “I want to talk.”
“There’s nothing left to say.”
“Please, Thea.” Goddamn ping-ponging heart. “Fine.” Thea shoved his bat at him and stomped toward the kitchen. She turned her back on him to fill a glass of water from the tap and silently seethed as she studied the massive whiteboard calendar that covered a four-foot square of wall space beside the refrigerator. Thea used to relish being impulsive and carefree, but now she lived and breathed by the color-coded control center where she scheduled every minute of their lives—dance lessons, dentist appointments, dinner menus, preschool volunteer days, and, in red letters to denote status-level FORGET THIS AT YOUR PERIL, reminders to find Ava’s favorite tights before Monday’s school musical.
The calendar also used to be full of charitable and social engagements as an official member of the Nashville Legends’ WAGs’—wives and girlfriends—club, but ever since rumors began circulating that she and Gavin were struggling, many of the wives and girlfriends had started to distance themselves from her. They didn’t even invite her to their stupid luncheon this month, and that was before she’d asked for a divorce.
She’d never felt as though she belonged, anyway, no matter how much she tried. Thea could never shake the feeling when she was around them that she was perpetually that one—the girl they all secretly suspected had gotten pregnant on purpose to trap herself a rich, professional athlete.
Little did they know that the very last thing in the world Thea would ever marry for was money. She’d seen firsthand growing up how money corrupted and corroded everything around it.
Nope. She had married Gavin for love.
But seeing how well that turned out, she might have been better off marrying for the cash.
Thea had been completely unprepared for life as a baseball wife. Being a Legends WAG brought its own kind of celebrity and responsibility. Between the charity events and promotional appearances, it was like being yanked into a sorority she never meant to rush. She didn’t have anything against sororities. She’d even been in one in college—an artsy collection of theater majors and music majors and feminist studies students who protested cuts to the women’s center.
But this sorority was different. This one demanded conformity and total obedience—the opposite of everything Thea once stood for. But Thea had had to figure it all out on her own with infant twins because Gavin was gone more than he was home. And somehow in the process, she got lost until she no longer even recognized herself. How had Southern Lifestyle magazine described her last summer in a feature about Tennessee’s pro athletes and their families? Wholesomely pastel. That was it. And they were right. Her entire Lilly Pulitzer wardrobe had become a walking tribute to cotton candy. She used to wear vintage Depeche Mode T-shirts and black Chucks, for God’s sake.
The article was like a bucket of cold water over her head. A wake-up call. She’d sputtered and stumbled and realized she’d become everything she once despised. And Gavin either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared that she had morphed into some kind of sanitized version of herself.