Losing to Win (21 page)

 

 

I
released the breath I didn't know I was holding and jumped to my feet. “Yes! Woo-hoo!” I turned to high-five Mac and Taylor only to find them in yet another lip lock. “You two take the phrase ‘making up for lost time' to all flavors of extreme.” I turned back to the field in time to see Malachi do some sort of dance before pointing the ball in my direction. Damned if my grin didn't spread a little wider. I never got over the pride of seeing him excel out there.

We were at Mal's preseason football game. It was early in the first quarter and Mal had just scored a touchdown, putting the Stars up by fourteen points. In addition to most of the cast and crew of
Losing to Win
, a large group of friends and family had come to Houston to watch. I was seated down in the players' wives section in between my mom and Mal's mom. Taylor and Mac were behind me. Everyone else was up in one of the booths.

“Smile, baby, you're on the Jumbotron thingy.” Eloise elbowed me in the ribs.

I flashed my pageant smile and waved before blowing a kiss to the camera. Might as well give them what they wanted. The camera panned down to Mal watching me on the Jumbotron and he blew a kiss back and got immediately teased by his teammates. The game was being shown on the same network as
Losing to Win
, so I was positive that little exchange would be broadcast out hundreds of times.

I sat back with a smile.

“Girl, give in already,” Taylor said.

I twisted around in my seat. “Oh, look who came up for air.”

She and Mac stared back at me with zero chagrin. None. Those two. Once they decided to cross the line from friends to lovers, it was full steam ahead and no looking back. I didn't think they'd spent a night apart since Girls' Night In at the Idlewild. I rolled my eyes at the two of them.

“Whatevs. What are talking about?”

Taylor smirked. “Just go head on and admit that Mal is your man, you two are back in love...”

“If you ever fell out...” Mac added.

“And that your happily ever after is just around the corner.”

I shook my head in denial. “My life is in Belle Haven.”

“Your man is in Houston,” Eloise stated.

“He's not my man!” I protested. “Or at least, he won't be for long.”

At this Valentine stepped in. “Child, what are you talking about?”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Knight, but this is how it starts. It's all fun and football and freak—um, fondness and then it goes to hell.”

“What goes to hell?”

“Our relationship. Sooner or later, it's not enough for Mal and he turns mean and I turn clingy and then it falls apart.”

Eloise said. “You make it sound like a pattern. It happened once. Years ago, when neither of you knew what you were doing.”

“Yeah, but—I want to teach, I want to finish renovating my house, I don't want to be the trophy of a football player.” Uncomfortable silence fell since I was literally sitting in the middle of the football trophy club.

Valentine dropped her voice. “Girl, you are doing the most. Who says you can't teach, who says you can't finish the house. You have a car, airplane tickets, no chains trapping you in the attic. Do you? And you can't be a trophy if you don't let someone treat you like a trophy. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Cari, you know all those times I told you that you could have it all?” my mom asked.

“Yeah.”

“That's some bull. Sorry, you can't have it all.”

“What?! Mom!”

“Sorry, baby, I wanted you to feel empowered, but you're old enough to know the truth. The truth is that we are not Superwoman. We can only be great at a few things at a time. Now you have to decide what you want to be great at. You can pick two or three things but not everything.”

Taylor fell back in her seat with her mouth dropped open. “Why doesn't anyone tell us these things?”

Valentine patted her on the thigh. “You girls only hear what you what anyway. Eloise is telling the truth. Now, I was a doctor's wife, a teacher, a mother, and I sat on the city council. Some days I was a great wife. Some years I was a great mother. Most of the time I was good teacher and I had my moments on the city council. But I wasn't going to give up the wife and mother part. Everything else could suffer but not those, understand.”

“I can't have it all and I have to decide what I want.”

“Basically.” Eloise nodded.

“I just don't know.” I shook my head. I guess it was time for me to take Dr. Julie up on her suggestion that I figure out what my happily ever after was supposed to look like.

“Whatever you decide, don't be all year about it,” Valentine said. “My son deserves to have somebody by his side who will stick it out when it's all lights and glitter like today and when it all comes to an end.”

Something in her tone made me frown. “I'm there for him.”

“You weren't when he needed you. When he got hurt, he needed you. But you were hurt so you let him suffer alone. Now, you both were young and mistakes were made, but I expect more from you, Carissa. Don't let me down.”

I noticed my mom nodding along. “Et tu, Mother?”

“Truth is the truth no matter who's telling it.”

“Aw, girl, just give in. It's easier in the long run,” Taylor said as Mac slipped an arm around her and kissed her forehead.

“You two make me sick,” I teased with a grin.

“Hater in the house,” Mac sang.

The crowd roared around us and I swung back around to see Malachi streaking down the sideline for a thirty-yard run. “He looks good out there today.”

“That's my boy.” Valentine beamed proudly.

“That's my man,” I corrected her with a smile. Now, what was I going to do with him?

 

 

“S
o.” Dr. Julie peered at us over the top of her glasses. “Last session. Give me a few words to describe how you feel?” The cameras swung toward us and awaited our answers.

“Tired,” I said baldly.

“Over it.” Carissa nodded.

“Hungry.” We'd stayed up watching movies last night and then overslept and had to race here to make it on time.

“Starving!”

“Is ‘red ta go' considered a word?” I asked.

“Only in Louisiana, babe.” Carissa patted my hand.

We were in Dr. Julie's makeshift office at the host hotel for
Losing to Win
. When they announced that we had to attend a wrap-up session with the life coach, everyone groaned. This was the only time both Carissa and I could come in due to my practice and travel schedule. We were limping into the last part of the show and we were more than ready to wrap it up—though wrapping it up meant discussing what came next and that was an area where Carissa was dragging her heels.

Dr. Julie started talking about setting continuous achievable life goals and I held in a snort of laughter. She wouldn't find two more goal-oriented people than we were. I tuned out the rest of Dr. Julie's lecture and allowed my eyes to wander along Carissa's frame. Though I doubted she'd find it so, I thought it was funny that she was dressed in a T-shirt and wide-leg pants and had her hair pulled back so that her outfit and hair were similar to how she'd looked when the show ambushed her a few months ago. But this time her clothes fit and flattered. Her skin was glowing with good health. Her smile was wide and genuine. Her chin was lifted at a jaunty tilt and her eyes were bright. The time had restored more than her shape. She was back to being Carissa Wayne.

Her hair bounced as her head swung toward me. “Malachi, are you listening?” she asked me.

“No. No, I'm not.” I shrugged.

She smirked. “What are you doing? Daydreaming?”

Dr. Julie smiled. “He's looking at you, dear. He hasn't taken his eyes off you for the past ten minutes.”

“Oh, really?” She quirked a brow.

“Tell me, Malachi,” Dr. Julie probed. “When you look at Carissa, what do you see?”

Finally, a question I liked. “I see beauty and strength, intelligence and charm. But I always saw that in her.”

“What's different about what you see now than what you saw a few months ago?”

“Now I see the future; before, I only saw the past.”

Carissa blinked and her eyes went wide.

Dr. Julie asked her, “A future with Malachi...What would that look like, Carissa?”

She looked completely panicked. “I don't know, I haven't—I don't...I'm not sure.”

“You haven't thought about it at all?” Dr. Julie asked incredulously.

I watched her squirm her way to an answer. “I didn't say that. I'm just not ready to decide what the long-term future is going to look like.”

“Hmm. That seems selfish.” I was glad Dr. Julie said it because I was surely thinking it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You do realize your decisions affect other people? There's Mal, the place where you work, the kids you teach, your family and friends, and let's not get into Jordan.”

“No, let's not,” I agreed hastily. The thought that dude was lurking just around the corner waiting for me to mess up so he could swoop in remained a thorn in my side.

“I do understand I'm not an island anymore. Thank you, Dr. Julie,” Carissa said sharply.

In an instant, my patience snapped. “I guess I don't know what more I can do to prove that I'm worth your time and trust. Have I let you down once this summer?”

She jumped a little at my question. “No.”

“Have I ignored you, flirted with random women, or made anyone or anything else a higher priority than you?”

“No,” she answered in a small voice.

“So please tell me, educate me, teach me—what's it gonna take?”

“I don't know. Time, maybe?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, you're putting me on the spot, Mal.”

“Putting YOU on the spot? I'm on the spot. I'm on the hot seat every damn day. I've got reporters asking me about you. I have teammates teasing me. I have your friends and family plus my friends and family warning me to do right by you. Telling me to do the right thing. I'm trying to do the right thing. What are you trying to do?”

“I'm just trying to live!” She flung her arms up.

“Wow. If I said that to you, you'd call me selfish and tell me I hadn't changed.”

“What's your point?”

“My point is maybe it's time you owned up to your part in the soap opera of Carissa and Mal, don't you think?”

“What did
I
do?”

“Well, I can't make a relationship work alone and I can't break a relationship alone. But I can't read your mind, Cari. I couldn't then and I can't now. If I'm not doing what you want, giving you what you need, if you're upset or feel mistreated, you have to say something and speak it plain. Don't wait until it gets unbearable and then bounce.” I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms, belatedly wishing I hadn't said all of that with cameras rolling.

“So you're mad.”

“I'm frustrated.”

“You're still sitting here.”

“Right, you're the one who leaves when she's upset. I stick.”

She winced. “Oh. Direct hit. I guess I never apologized for that.”

“For what?”

“Bailing and stealing your new car. And not coming back when you got hurt. That was tacky of me.”

“It was.”

She got up and slid into my lap. “I'm not perfect either.”

“Oh yeah?” I mocked her and looped my arms around her waist.

“But I'm still here. I'm here with you.”

“That's not going to be enough for long.”

“I understand.” She kissed my cheek.

I turned toward Dr. Julie. “Are we done?”

She chuckled. “You two do a better job of counseling each other than I could. Stay like that. Be open with each other and remember that there's a reason you've been in each other's orbit for all these years.”

We both blinked at her because she lost us with that orbit comment.

Dr. Julie stood up and extended a hand. “It's been a pleasure working with both of you. I expect to hear great things about you in the future.”

We shook her hand and exited without a single look back.

“As an apology for jacking your Benz, how about I buy you breakfast?” Carissa joked and took my hand in hers.

“This better be a hell of a breakfast.”

“Are you really still mad about it?”

“Do you think if I was mad about it I would've paid it off?”

“Good point. Then you can buy
me
breakfast.”

I shook my head. “Always so high maintenance.” We were cutting through the lobby when Niecy and Meshach got off the elevator.

“Who's buying breakfast?” Niecy asked.

Carissa raised her hand. “I have a car note to pay off.”

“What?” They looked at her in confusion as we laughed.

“Everybody order the lobster omelet,” I teased. “That's all I have to say about that.”

 

 

“M
an, you were lighting it up out there today.” Coach Haines slapped me on the shoulder as we jogged into the tunnel toward the locker room.

“Thanks, Coach!” I grinned and high-fived a fan hanging over the edge of the stadium seating. We'd just finished our last preseason game. If I do say so myself, we beat the hell out of Cleveland. I had over one hundred receiving yards in the first half alone, scoring two touchdowns before they told me I was done for the day. The final score was 41–13.

In fact, the past two preseason games had been monster games for me. I'd never felt better out there. The routes just seemed to open up for me. I was bouncing back from hits. The quarterback was young but talented, with an eye for picking apart defenses. He was a second-year guy out of USC, his spirals were some of the best I'd seen, and he knew how to get the ball into a tight pocket.

We'd been taking some extra time to practice together and were already getting into a rhythm that made us tough to stop if we had the ball in our hands. I liked the chemistry of the team. There were no underachieving showboats, and everybody believed that with the talent and the depth we had on the roster, this team could go deep into the playoffs. With some teams, you just had that feeling that excellence was the standard. It was the best possible situation for me.

As long as I stayed healthy and kept my head in the game, all things were possible. A year ago I couldn't and wouldn't have dreamed that everything would fall into place. I had Carissa waiting just outside, I had teammates I believed in. I had everything back that I loved.

“Blue Streak, what are you trying to prove out there?” Kenny, my offensive tackle, broke into my thoughts as he caught up to me by the lockers. “Damn, we know you're back and better than before. Quit making the rest of us look bad.”

“Just trying to earn my pay,” I said before adding with a grin, “But I can't help it if you young slackers can't keep up.” At thirty-three years of age, I was considered one of the old heads in the locker room. This game was the first one where the coaches decided to start me over the young wideout, Ossie Wallace. Wallace was drafted in the first round. Though I felt a twinge about snatching the youngster's spot from him, it was best he learned about competition at this level early in his career. No matter your draft rank, no one was going to give you anything out on the field. You had to fight for it, earn it, and take it.

“Well, you're earning it,” Coach Haines announced. “And you'll be the starter, our number-one receiver on opening day. Ossie will learn a lot under you.”

Yes!
I thought, holding back the fist pump I longed to do. Instead I smiled modestly before saying, “Feels good to be back. I won't let you down.”

“You've made a believer out of me,” the receivers coach seconded. I nodded and drew the jersey over my head.

“I appreciate that, Coach.”

“Before we let the reporters in, let me say a few words,” Coach Haines announced. “Great win out there. Great effort for everyone: offense, defense, and special teams. It's rare that we can put together a team this solid. We play like this the rest of the year and we'll be unstoppable. I don't know about you guys, but I could use a big pretty ring for this finger.” He held up his hand. “Who's with me? Stars on three. 1–2–3...”

“Stars!” we all chanted.

“One last thing...Game ball goes to the guy who, if he keeps up at this pace, will be comeback player of the year. Malachi Knight.” He handed the game ball to me.

I grabbed it and raised it up. “Thanks, guys. You can't imagine what this means to me. Couldn't have imagined a better group of men to welcome me back to the league.”

“All right, Hollywood—don't tear up on us now,” Isaac, a defensive back who was still on the team from a few years back, called out, and everyone laughed.

“Ah, why I gotta be Hollywood?” I protested with good humor.

Just then the locker-room doors opened and a slew of reporters came in. “Malachi, how do you feel after today's win?” the first one called out.

“We saw Carissa outside, she's looking good,” another shouted at me.

“Have you finished filming the last segment of
Losing to Win
?” And another joined in.

“And that's why you gotta be Hollywood,” Isaac pointed out.

I shrugged it off. What could I say? The spotlight was definitely shining brightest on me right now. I raised the ball back up. “Thanks again, fellas.” Then I held up one finger to the reporters. “Give me one second, guys.” I hurried over to my locker and pulled out my phone. I had learned my lesson about keeping Carissa waiting on me. Quickly, I sent her a text. Swamped with reporters. Wanna wait or meet me at home? I pressed SEND.

Pierre's coming in. I'll be at restaurant when you finish up
.
She answered.

I'm starving, order me a steak!

Excuse me, Baller. You gotta keep in field shape. I'll order you the salmon and you'll like it. She added a smiley face.

We had one last weigh-in for
Losing to Win
. We were so far ahead in the points it was almost impossible for us to lose at this point, but we weren't taking any chances. Whatever you say, ma'am.

Damn right
.
She sent back, causing me to chuckle to myself. I looked up to find the press corps grinning at me.

The on-field reporter from the NFL Network held out her mic. “Whenever you're ready, Mal.”

Pierre walked in and came over. “Good game, 84.”

“I didn't suck.” I smirked at him before turning to face the reporters and take questions.

 

 

It was forty-five minutes, a shower, and what seemed like a million repetitive questions later that I tightened the knot on my tie and climbed behind the wheel while Pierre slid in beside me. I locked the doors and started the car.

“I have news,” he announced in a calm voice.

“Yeah?” Pierre was dramatic and liked to tell things in his own good time.

“Nike called.”

I slammed on the brakes in the middle of reversing and swiveled my head in his direction. “What?!”

“And they aren't the only ones. We got over a dozen nibbles looking to sign Mal Knight to endorsement deals.”

“Really? Already? I haven't even played a regular season game yet.” Things were happening so fast, and this time, I was determined not to let it go to my head. I had to admit to being flattered, though.

“Keep driving, I'm hungry. Anyway, I guess Corporate America likes what they see. And everybody loves a triumphant comeback story.”

“Is that what I am? A comeback story?”

“Man, c'mon. You were the epitome of done, sitting on the sofa packing on pounds. You were a few years away from a ‘whatever happened to that guy' segment on ESPN. Look at you now.”

“I guess so.”

“Have you taken a second to let it sink in?”

I could admit to Pierre that I was a little bit dazed. You make a plan, you work toward the goal, and it's hard to recognize when you've arrived. “A little bit. Carissa and I were talking about it a few weeks ago. It's hard to believe we are here. Again.”

“It's different this time, right?”

“Oh, definitely. Everything is just a bit sweeter the second time around.”

“Your profile with the show and now with your performance on the field—the sky is the limit. We should be able to write our own ticket after this year.”

“Wow. It's happening so fast.”

“Isn't this what you wanted?”

“It was. It is. Just feels like something's missing.”

“What? Carissa's here, you're back. We're about to get paid. Life is good.”

“Is she really here, though? Like, all in?” I caught myself voicing the question that had been circling in my mind for a few weeks.

“What do you mean? You don't think she's in it for the long haul? That doesn't sound like Carissa Wayne.”

“Tell me about it. The woman who has every area of her life planned and color coordinated is being deliberately vague. I can't nail her down. Every time I try to talk about the future, she shuts down or changes the subject.”

“Well, that's...” Pierre paused.

“Awkward?” I suggested.

“ ‘Troublesome' was the word I was going with.”

“Frustrating,” I amended.

“It's ironic, really.” Pierre shrugged.

“How so?”

“Well, here you are with the world at your feet and the one thing you really want is the one thing you're not sure you can have. Irony.”

“Yeah.” My lips twisted. “Thanks for sharing that.”

“You're welcome. But what's the rush? You two have all the time in the world.”

“You would think so, wouldn't you? But I'm feeling kind of urgent. I hate to go all sensitive, P. The truth is, I want that commitment, I want her locked down. We've come too far for me to lose her now.”

“You don't really think you're gonna lose her to Jordan, do you? She doesn't seem all that into him from what I've seen.”

“Yeah, I don't know. He's the safe bet. He gets a woman like Carissa, he'll never do anything to mess it up. I can't make that guarantee. Shit, I'm not perfect.”

“Oh, this I know. I gotta say, though, I don't think Jordan wins in the end. I just don't.”

“I don't want to lose to anything or anybody.”

“Then sit her down and force her to talk about it.”

I sent him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? Ah... no. Imposing my will upon her is what sent her running to the next state last time. This time, she's gotta come to it on her own. When she decides what she wants, I'll be here hoping it's me.”

“Whoa, look at you.”

“What?” I took my eyes off the road once more to slide him an irritated glance.

“You're all new, Malachi. Sensitive and shit. Let me see if I can get you a Hallmark commercial or Kleenex.”

“I told Carissa I was Malachi 2.0,” I admitted.

“Damn, Dr. Phil, wanna hug it out?”

“Kiss my ass.”

He snorted. “And just like that, the real Malachi Knight's back.”

It was the perfect time to pull up outside the restaurant; Pierre's snarky witticisms were on my nerves. I tossed my keys to the valet and strode inside. I caught sight of Carissa right away. She was wearing the amazing red dress we'd bought in New Orleans. Niecy and Shach were sitting with her. When she saw me heading her way, her face lit up and she looked relieved. My girl still didn't 100 percent trust me. But I figured a lifetime of doing the right thing by her would fix that soon enough. A few people tried to stop me on my way to her, but I grinned and waved and kept moving. Reaching the table, I leaned down and kissed her. “Greetings, Carissa Wayne.”

“Hey, Rock Star.” She grinned. “Good game today.”

“He was all right,” Pierre teased and sat down.

“Stop it.” She swatted his arm. “My man rocked.”

That was all I needed to hear to make my day. One positive word from her and I felt like Superman. I dropped into the booth beside her and slid my arm around her. “I did all right, didn't I?”

“So much so that you deserve a treat.”

“Oh yeah?” I raked my eyes across the bare skin showing.

Shach laughed. “Think with a different body part, bro, your lascivious intentions are showing.”

“Can you blame a brother?” I stroked my hand down Carissa's arm; her skin was incredibly soft.

She shivered under my touch and beamed. “Behave, Malachi. Here it is.”

A waiter walked up carrying sizzling platters of food. He slid a huge dish in front of me. “Good evening, Mr. Knight, I understand you prefer your steak medium well.”

I looked down at the perfectly grilled ribeye swimming in butter on the plate and almost teared up. Life was damn good. “You're a good woman, Carissa.”

“Best believe it.” She met my eyes.

“Oh, I absolutely do.” Tearing my gaze from hers, I picked up my knife and fork. “I'm about to commit a crime on this plate. Are we being filmed tonight?”

Niecy shook her head. “They're waiting for us at a restaurant across town. We totally gave them the slip.”

“Good people, let's eat.”