Until You Loved Me

Hudson didn’t want to be reminded of his upcoming contract negotiations, didn’t want to let what could happen get inside his head. It was one thing to play football with focus and purpose, another to play scared. Perhaps he was being superstitious, but he believed playing scared would get him hurt, and once he got hurt, he wouldn’t be worth a damn—to anyone. It was football that had given him a life; he knew where he’d be without it. “Right. I’ll be sure to do that.”

As Teague pulled in to the hotel, Hudson gestured toward the valet section under the portico. “You can drop me there.”

Teague checked the time on his expensive watch. “It’s only seven. Don’t you want me to come in with you? The restaurant here’s good. We could grab a bite to eat before you turn in for the night.”

“No, thanks. I’ll order room service.” A long soak in the jetted tub would help calm his mind and his body. The longer he remained in the league, the more banged up he became. The trick was not to let the aches and pains stop him from giving his best performance in every single game.

“Okay. I’ll send up a bottle of wine.”

“Don’t bother. I won’t be drinking tonight, either. But I appreciate the thought.”

Teague leaned forward to look up at Hudson as he got out. “Everything okay?”

Hudson rested one hand on the top of the car. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Thanks for taking me out today. I’ll see you after the game tomorrow.”

“Hey, wait a sec. You seem...I don’t know, kind of remote.”

“Stop worrying,” he said and shut the door. He’d told Teague he was fine, and he was. Sure, he was a little lonely, but he could be lonely in a crowd. He’d never been like everyone else, never had the close connections parents and siblings provided.

His team was his family, he told himself. Except eventually, they all went home to their real families.

Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Ellie to his hotel. Being with her had assuaged that deep ache, and since she’d left, he felt the isolation more acutely than ever.

* * *

Leo was with Don, all right. Ellie could see him from her front window. He was sitting in the passenger seat of her ex-fiancé’s Chevy Volt when Don pulled into her drive at exactly seven o’clock.

“Punctual as ever.” She liked that he was never late, but that was about all she liked these days. She’d hoped he’d have the courtesy to show up alone. Having Leo there, watching this exchange, made her feel they were both laughing at her. You believed he loved you? Really?

Don didn’t approach the house right away. He sat in the car talking to Leo as though he wasn’t looking forward to confronting her.

Once he got out, she whispered, “You can do this,” to encourage herself and stooped to pick up Lulu, who’d just finished her dinner. The breakup had been difficult enough. Losing Lulu made it worse. Ellie had adopted Don’s pet as her pet, too. But he’d never part with Lulu. Not only was the cat a British Shorthair, one of the most expensive breeds in the world, she’d been a Christmas gift to Don from his mother two years ago. Ellie had no right to keep her, wasn’t even going to ask. She was just glad he hadn’t come into the relationship with kids. If she felt this destroyed over an animal, she could only imagine how she’d feel if she had to say goodbye to a child.

Warning herself not to allow this encounter to turn into an argument—what was the point of angry recriminations at this juncture?—she mustered as much dignity as she could and opened the door.

“Hey.” He wore a collared shirt, plaid shorts and sandals. He’d always been neat and clean and stylish. But he’d had someone other than Amy, who normally cut his hair, dye it black two days ago. Ellie thought he looked a little ridiculous, given the pale, almost-translucent shade of his skin and all those freckles.

Maybe Leo liked the new look.

She wished she could give Don a nonchalant hello, wished she could act as though he hadn’t hurt her so badly, but she couldn’t speak around the lump suddenly clogging her throat. So much for the mental exercises and clichés she’d employed to prepare for this moment. Time heals all wounds. This, too, shall pass. Everything happens for a reason. If we were meant to be together, we’d still be together. She couldn’t gain any perspective on their breakup; it was too soon.

Doing her best to imitate a polite smile, since she couldn’t conjure up a genuine one, she handed him his cat.

“Thanks for taking care of Lulu. You’ve been really kind to her.”

Ellie had been kind to him, too. Loved him. Trusted him. Planned to spend the rest of her life with him. The scent of his cologne brought back memories of curling up next to him on the couch while they watched a movie, hugging him before he had to leave, sidling closer at work just to catch a whiff.

Afraid he’d realize she was battling tears, she bent to pick up the box of his things she’d put by the door, which included Lulu’s feeding dish and cat toys. There was also a big sack of kitty litter she’d purchased so Lulu would have what she needed at both houses.

“Here, let me get that,” Don said about the box. “Just a sec. I’ll take Lulu out first.”

Ordinarily, she would’ve followed him when he went to the car so he wouldn’t have to return to the house. But she refused to approach Leo, who, on Thursday, had confided to Mary Jane Deets, a fellow scientist at the BDC, how distasteful Don had found it to sleep with her. How difficult it had been for both men to keep up the charade of friendship when she was the one who got to sleep with Don most nights.

Ellie wished Mary Jane had never mentioned that conversation. The last thing she wanted to hear was that making love to her had been an unpleasant chore. Sex required so much trust... She didn’t easily expose her body or her most sensitive and private self, which was why what she’d done last night had been so earth-shattering. Only because she didn’t know Hudson and would never see him again had she been able to let herself go.

The memory of his hands on her body helped her hold herself together. She had her own naughty secret. She wouldn’t be gauche enough to confide what she’d done to anyone at work, so Don would never hear about it. But she’d enjoyed making love with Hudson far more than she’d ever enjoyed making love with her ex. So what if Don had left her bed and returned to Leo’s? So what if they’d mocked her and laughed or said nasty things about how revolting it had been for him to touch her?

Fortunately, she managed to clear the lump from her throat by the time he came back.

“Thanks for gathering up all this stuff for me,” he said.

“No problem,” she responded. What other choice did she have? She wasn’t about to let him back in her house.

He looked as though he had something more to say but wasn’t sure how. So he took the box and stepped off the stoop.

Grateful she’d escaped with so little interaction, she started to close the door but paused when she heard her name.

“Leo and I would like you to know that we both feel terrible about how everything...you know...went down,” Don said.

In the first place, that was a terrible pun. In the second, she didn’t believe they felt bad. They both had places of their own and yet she’d caught them in her bed, simply because it was closer to work, more convenient for their tryst. That showed no respect, no concern for her at all. And now? They acted relieved, even happy that she’d provided the impetus for them both to come out. To be their true selves.

Everyone deserved that right. She had no problem with same-sex relationships; it was being used that bothered her. She felt duped, cheated. “Okay,” she said. “Good luck to both of you.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “You’re a nice person. I know that.”

Of course he did. That was why he’d felt so comfortable taking advantage of her. He knew she wasn’t nearly as experienced when it came to romantic relationships as most other women her age. He’d preyed on that innocence and, somehow, she’d missed the obvious. “Thank you.”

He seemed surprised that he wasn’t eliciting more of a fight from her. There were so many things she wanted to say—and rightfully could say. But getting ugly wouldn’t change anything. Why make it possible for him to excuse his actions by claiming she was a bitch?

“I should’ve told you I was confused,” he added.

She tried to hold her silence but couldn’t let that go. “You weren’t confused. You just didn’t want your family to find out that you were really in love with Leo.”

“I was confused about how to handle it,” he clarified. “You don’t understand how much pressure I was under to be something I’m not. At least try to understand that we were both victims.”

Maybe that was true. As nice as his family was in so many ways, they had no business making him feel he was any less because of his sexual preferences. But she hadn’t been a victim until he told her he loved her and asked her to be his wife. As far as she was concerned, this situation could’ve had one less victim if only he’d been honest with her. “You told me more than once that you’d like a family,” she said.

He seemed startled by the change in subject. “I do!”

“Is that why you did it?” she asked. “Were you waiting for me to pump out a couple of kids before you revealed the truth?”

His eyebrows, dyed black like his hair, drew together. “No! How can you even think that?”

“Maybe because of the other lies you told me.” And practically speaking, while a plan like that was reprehensible and totally unfair to her, it was a much less expensive way to have children than paying for a surrogate...

“I knew how much my parents would like you,” he said.

“Your parents,” she repeated. Wouldn’t this have been the time to suggest he’d cared about her, at least a little?