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She’s right. I think.
We would have made the playoffs if we’d won our last game of the season. Instead, we lost.
I can feel it coming. I’m on the chopping block, and I might be on the next flight out of Minnesota.
And if I am, I have no idea where I might land.
It’s sending everything in my life into a complete tailspin, and I’m honestly not sure if breaking up with Amelia is part of that tailspin or if I’m acting out because I’m scared I’m about to lose my career and everything I’ve worked for over the last seven years.
I get it. This is a business. I’m nothing more than a commodity.
But if my hunch is accurate, it’s still a hefty blow to my self-esteem.
I have three years left on my contract, and I haven’t decided when I’m hanging it up just yet. By the time my contract expires, I’ll be thirty-three. At least ten percent of players in the league have had their thirty-third birthday at this point, and it’s not an impossible age to play through.
I turn thirty soon, and I’ll admit that’s giving me some pause. It’s pulsing these feelings in me like it’s time. I’m not sure what it’s time for, exactly, though. Getting married? Maybe. It’s not a small part of why I proposed to Amelia.
We’ve had a lot of fun together. She’s so different from me in every way. She’s impulsive—obviously—and she acts first and apologizes later. She’s quirky and wild, and she makes me laugh.
And up until now, I thought I could trust her.
But she has made it clear that I cannot.
There’s more to it than that. She’s been pressuring me, asking me what I’m waiting for, and I guess there are times I want to be less logical. There are times I want to be impulsive like she is.
So as soon as the idea entered my mind that she was my future, I gave her a ring.
I figured we’d have a long, long, long engagement. I thought maybe we’d get married sometime after those three years.
She had different ideas. I’m not sure what the rush is, but it sounds stupid to say that I was hoping for a longer engagement when I gave her a ring. A ring is a promise, one I only plan to make once in my life despite the example set for me by my own parents, and since I made the promise, I intend to keep it.
Or I did, anyway. Until she lied to me.
“Then maybe we’re better off just ending things,” I say quietly.
She starts to cry, and she knows the way to get to me.
It’s another reason why I asked her to marry me. Not the crying thing—but the fact that she knows me well, and very few people can say that.
But when she uses it to her advantage, it feels less like knowing me well and more like another manipulation.
“What’s better about ending things?” she wails. “I love you, Spencer.”
I reach over and put my arm around her in some attempt to console her. “I know, Amelia. But this is a huge betrayal, and it’s not one I can just sweep under the rug.”
She sniffles, and I force myself to hold strong. She did this to herself, and throwing out the I love you in some attempt to smooth things over makes the words feel meaningless to me.
“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll never do anything like this again.”
I’m quiet while I process how to handle this. I can’t be with someone who would stoop so low…but maybe I’m overreacting.
This is a woman who loves me. This is the woman I proposed marriage to. This is the woman I planned to spend the rest of my life loving.
I’m so goddamn confused right now.
“I just need a little time to process all this.” With those words, I push to a stand and walk toward the door. I need to get out of this office. I need a little time with my thoughts. I need…exercise.
Exercise always helps me clear my mind.
