First Position (30 page)

“Sure, OK, whatever,”  Olivia said.  “Mason said the same thing.”

Emory’s eyes widened.  “You told Mason you thought I was pregnant?”

“You mean you haven’t told him?” Olivia replied.

Emory looked to Steven for help.  “There’
s
nothin
g
to tell.” 

Steven picked up a piece of chicken.  “I guess we were wrong,”  he said, shrugging, then shoved another bite of chicken into Olivia’s mouth.

Mason barged into the room with his mother, holding her hand.  “Where’s my nephew?”

“And my grandson?” Kathleen countered, nudging her son in the stomach.  Olivia pointed to Emory quietly rocking Noah in the corner, Mason’s chest swelling at the sight.  Kathleen walked eagerly towards her, and Emory noticed a bounce in her step and a brightness in her face, as if some weight had been lifted.  “He looks beautiful in your arms,” Kathleen said.  Emory gave a quick look to Mason, still standing in the doorway, and he nodded, indicating progress had been made.  “Mind if I have some grandma time?”

“Of course.”  Emory gently passed Noah to her and rose from the chair, offering it to Kathleen, who got lost in him immediately.

Mason teased Steven that he now had more hair on his face than on his head, then swiped a piece of the hospital chicken, offering his sympathies to Olivia.  Emory quietly retrieved her camera from her bag and snapped a picture of Kathleen holding Noah.  “Oh goodness, please don’t do that, dear,” Kathleen said, primping her hair.  “I’m due to have my roots done.”

Emory pushed some buttons so that the image appeared on the camera screen and knelt down next to Kathleen.  “Look how beautiful you two look together.  I imagine you looked the same thirty years ago holding Steven.”

“Thank you, dear.”  She squeezed Emory’s hand.

Mason walked to them and eyed the image over their shoulders.  He kissed his mother on top of her head and winked at Emory.  “Noah’s better looking than Steven already.”  Steven tossed a piece of chicken at his brother, striking him in the temple, then falling to the floor by Emory.

“I agree with you, Mason,” Olivia said.

“You want me to fire some at you, too?” Steven teased.  “You’re not all delicate and pregnant anymore.”  Emory picked up the chicken and threw it back at him.

“Good for you, dear,” Kathleen said.  “You can see how I had my hands full raising both of them.”

“I have a hard enough time with one.”  Emory smiled up at Mason.

Kathleen saw the sweetness and love between her son and Emory -- it was obvious from the way they looked at each other.  She’d seen the same thing in the old post-game photo she kept in her album.  “You’re doing a good job, dear.  I’ve always thought that.”  Emory hadn’t heard such loving words from a maternal figure in over twenty-five years.  For all the kindness and love her father had shown her, she’d missed out for so long on the kindness and love of a mother.  Emory leaned over the chair arm and wrapped her arms around Kathleen’s neck, careful not to disturb Noah whose eyes had just closed, Kathleen looking sweetly at her son during the embrace.  

“I’ll make sure to send you a copy of the picture when we get back to Charlotte,” Emory said and stood up.  “Who’s next for a picture?”  Steven launched another piece of chicken in her direction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When Emory returned to Charlotte, so did her nightmares -- as bad as they’d ever been.  She found herself afraid to sleep in the same bed as Mason, fearing she’d scare him and he’d then question her again about them.  He hadn’t brought up her bad dreams in a while, and she wanted to keep it that way, but she wondered if it was time to come clean.
 
Maybe that’s the only way out.

She stood alone at the ballet barre below her apartment, the lights dim, staring at herself in the mirror.  She felt weak and tired, dark circles under her eyes, and put her hands on her cheeks, stretching them downward.  She hadn’t recovered from seeing Mason holding Noah.  The moment had brought everything back, making it all more vivid and real.  She couldn’t suppress it any longer.  The temporary high she felt taking pictures of Kathleen and the family in the hospital room and throwing food at Steven, had long since passed.  It seemed like years ago.  She slowly brought her hand to her chest, massaging her heart, never thinking the hole inside could get any worse.  But just over the past few days, the hole in her heart indeed had grown deeper and wider, all of her worry and pain spilling out like a volcano, bubbling to the surface and affecting her body and mind.

A slow, somber melody played, and she began to stretch
.
First position
.
  She placed her leg on the barre and bent to the side, continuing to stretch until her body felt limber.  She started to dance, slowly at first, and rose up on her toes.  As the music grew faster, so did the intensity of her movement.  She shifted gears, gaining strength and power, then made a series of jumps across the floor, landing in front of the mirror.  Her body felt tired, but Emory had a new resolve within.
 
I will tell him tonight.

Mason pulled up in front of the dance studio.  He’d been consumed with physical therapy and team commitments since coming back from Texas.  He hadn’t spent the time he wanted with Emory and knew his days were only going to get busier with performance drills starting the next day.  And he was nervous about that, having not thrown in months and unsure whether he even could.  He figured a night with Emory would calm his nerves, and a surprise visit would be a good start.  He carried a bouquet of pink tulips towards the door, expecting to go upstairs to her apartment, but spotted her at the barre, cooling down. 

Emory wasn’t in her usual leotard, but a see-through, pink ballet sweater with a black bra and a skimpy black shorts.  He saw her flat stomach, and the curve of her waist, her blonde hair cascading down her back.  Mason stood in the shadows of the viewing area, admiring her.  “Any chance I can get a private dance?”

Emory jumped.  “You scared me!”  She took a deep breath to compose herself.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve missed you the last few days.”  Mason said, walking towards her and pulling the bouquet from behind his back.  She smiled and thanked him, as he kissed her cheek.  She held them to her nose, breathing in the sweet smell of spring.  Mason took the bouquet and dropped it to the floor, then wrapped his arms around her waist.  “So, how about a private dance?”   He began to kiss her neck.

Emory moaned softly.  “This is a pretty public place for a private dance.”

“You’ve never been shy before.”  Mason untied the front of her sweater, opening it, and placed his hands on her warm, bare waist, pulling her close.  He’d missed holding her, touching her, everything about her.  He made his way around her body, kissing her lips, neck, and shoulders, her sweater falling to the floor.

She felt a twinge between her legs.
 
Maybe I should do this before I come clean and ruin everything
?
She untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons.  He picked her up, Emory wrapping her legs around him.  Breathing heavily, she removed his shirt quickly, watching herself in the mirror, and threw his shirt to the floor.  Mason began to move quickly, holding her with one hand and undoing her black bra with the other.  Emory pulled back slightly, causing Mason to stop, but then she removed her bra and flung it on the floor, biting her bottom lip.  Mason’s eyes took her in.  She kissed him hard on the lips and pushed herself into him, the warmth of her breasts covering his hard chest.

“Holy shit!” Wesley screamed, as he walked into the studio, quickly covering his eyes.

“What the fuck!” Mason yelled.
 
Is this some kind of fucking punishment
?
  He shielded her from Wesley’s view, as she quickly grabbed her bra and sweater.

“I’m so sorry, guys,” Wesley said nervously, looking the other way.  “I have a private lesson tonight.”

Emory threw Mason his shirt.  “It’s OK, Wesley, we’re all covered up now.” She grabbed the bouquet from the floor, and Wesley turned around, careful to avoid looking at either of them.  Emory led Mason out of the studio, Mason glaring down at Wesley along the way, and then she offered Wesley an apologetic smile.  “I was giving a private lesson, too.”

Mason slapped her backside, as they walked upstairs.  “That was embarrassing,” she said, walking into the kitchen.

“I was really enjoying myself, too,” he said.  “I liked the mirrors.”

Emory blushed, getting a vase for the bouquet.  “Me too.” 

“Do you think he looked at my butt?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Emory grinned, filling the vase with water. “It’s mine anyway.”  She carefully arranged the tulips in the vase, then drew a deep breath.
 
Tell him now
.
“Mason, I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” he said, kissing her neck.  “But before I forget, are you free tomorrow after my performance drills?  I have a little something planned.”

Emory pulled away.  “That’s tomorrow?”
 
Can’t tell him now.  Shit!

“I know, it snuck up on me, too.  I’m a little nervous.”  He pulled her close again.  “So I need you to distract me, to keep me nice and loose.”

“Don’t you think you should conserve your energy?” she teased.

“Probably so.  What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing that can’t wait,” she said and bit her bottom lip, pulling him closer and unbuttoning his shirt.
 
Thank God men are so easy to distract!

Mason picked her up and placed her on the kitchen counter.  In a matter of seconds, their shirts were on the floor, Mason trailing kisses to her breasts.  His tongue outlined her aroused nipple, and she moaned.  Mason cupped one breast with his hand, while slowly sucking on the other, the warmth between her legs turning into a blazing fire.  He ran his hand down her shorts, and his eyes flashed open.
 
Thongs
!
  Emory gave him a knowing smile, as she undid the zipper and button on his jeans, stroking him up and down.  His phone rang loudly, vibrating on the kitchen counter.

“Fuck!”  Mason leaned his head on hers in defeat.  “I swear I’m being punished.”

“Just ignore it,” she whispered.

Ring
!

“If that’s Steven, I will kill him, I swear.”

Ring!

“I’m just going to hit decline,” Emory said, reaching for the phone, as Mason kissed her neck.  She saw the caller ID on the screen, and her body turned stiff and cold.

“What?”  he asked.

Ring!

“It’s not Steven.”

She turned the phone, so Mason could see the screen.
 
Why the fuck is Alexis calling me
?
  The ringing stopped, an uncomfortable silence fell between them.

“Why is she calling you?” Emory asked, wondering when Mason last spoke with Alexis.  She figured the lawyers were handling everything, and that husband and wife were not speaking.
 
Have they been talking behind my back?  Does she want Mason back
?

“I have no idea,” Mason said, handing her the sweater and bra and putting back on his shirt.  “I haven’t spoken to her since I got hurt, I promise.”  He knew how awkward this was for Emory, and it was just another reminder how difficult it was to move on with Emory, sexually or otherwise, while still married.  There would be no sex, again, tonight.

Ring!

“Jesus!”  Mason yelled, looking at his phone.  “It’s her again!”

Emory hopped down from the countertop.  “Put her on speaker.”  Mason did, then answered.

“I was wondering how many times it would take for you to pick up.” Alexis said, strolling through the shoe section of a high-end boutique.

“What do you want?”

“Well, right now, I’m looking at the most fabulous pair of Christian Louboutin shoes that would just do wonders for my calves.”  She held the shoe up, wanting the salesman to bring them to her, then continued to look around.

Emory rolled her eyes.  “You called to talk about shoes?” Mason asked.

“No, you never did understand my need for designer shoes.”  Alexis snapped her fingers that she needed a few more pair.  “I’m calling because I wanted to congratulate you on the Panthers contract.” 

“Who told you about that?”

“A little thing called Google.”  Alexis sat down and slipped off her shoes, waiting impatiently for the salesman to return.  “I wish you had accepted the larger Seahawks contract, but whatever.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m glad you asked.”  The salesman returned with several boxes and knelt down in front of Alexis.  “I’m thinking a little piece of that contract should be mine, since I’m still legally your wife.”

“We’ll see what Steven thinks about that.”

“Yes, please ask him,” she said, wiggling her toes.   “And when you talk to him, ask him how he feels about adultery?”  The salesman raised his brow.

So did Emory.
 
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked for speaker.