Page 122 of Faking the Pass
“I completely agree, Mr. Lowe,” the shop owner said.
Of course she agreed. He’d probably just paid her rent for the next six months. How would I ever be able to pay himbackfor all of this?
Despite my protests, Presley gathered up the bags and asked me to carry the two he couldn’t manage. When we left the shop, the press members outside were exuberant, firing jovial questions.
“Doing a little shopping huh?” one of them asked, and the rest laughed.
“Is there anything left in the store?” another one joked.
I was embarrassed, but Presley handled them with aplomb.
“A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things. And I have the most beautiful wife in the world, wouldn’t you agree?”
Just as it did every damn time I heard him utter the word “wife,” my belly swooped then soared.
I got into the car in a daze, not quite sure what was happening.
Over the next week, Presley gave me occasion to wear some of my new wardrobe, planning dates at romantic restaurants.
One night he took me to a concert by candlelight where a string quartet performed the music of Queen, but in a classical instrumental style.
He was acting different at home, too, parading around nearly naked after his workouts. After showering, he’d come out of his room wearing only a towel around his waist to grab a drink or snack from the refrigerator.
I wasn’t sure what had changed, but he seemed to be taking every opportunity to remind meexactlywhat I was missing out on.
If there was a secret girlfriend in the picture, I wasn’t sure when Presley was spending time with her because he came home every day right after practice and spent every evening with me.
If I were his real wife, I’d have been thrilled. Under the circumstances, it felt like a special kind of torture.
Because all these fake dates were starting to have a real effect.
And I was starting to truly dread the day when it all came to its inevitable end.
Chapter 29
Cinderella Goes to the Ball
Presley
Going to the Nauticals practice facility Wednesdays through Saturdays was a lifesaver.
If I’d had to stay in the house with Rosie twenty-four-seven, I’d have lost my mind within a week.
All that close physical proximity was wearing on me.
Out on the practice field, I watched the linebackers and defensive backs lunge forward and slam into the sleds, the impact loud and violent.
And I was jealous of them.
I wished I had such a powerful outlet for all the pent-up energy I was walking around with now that the honeymoon was over—in every sense of the word.
Working out at home and here with the team’s trainers wasn’t getting the job done.
While it might not have been a cure for the so-close-but-so-far blue balls, at least coming into work gave me a sense of purpose for half the week. I attended the quarterbacks meeting then watched my two backups run the week’s offensive plays on the practice field.
Dylan was really coming along. Though he rarely saw any gametime action, my youngest brother had been looking tight in practice.
Coach Maddox had noticed it too.
