Page 34 of The Marriage Rebound

I made eye contact with Tanisha and was glad she was actually here to witness how Courtney shut me down because I was sure she thought I was exaggerating at times when I vented.

More and more Courtney acted like she was the only one who got to make decisions about things despite there being two of us in this marriage. A bubble of frustration swelled inside me, driving me to force the issue because she couldn’t just walk away this time. But I shot glances at Tina, Shae, and Khadijah, the three of them tense and slightly uncomfortable. This wasn’t the time. This dinner was for Tina, a good-time send-off, not for Courtney and I to hash out our bullshit.

I picked up my Korean mule, hoping the drink would wash down the anger I was fighting to keep contained. “My bad, y’all. Let’s get back to seeing how much Tina can put away before she passes out in a meat coma.”

Light laughs scattered around the table just as the waitress returned with our selections and started the cooking process, which provided a well-timed distraction.

Chapter 14

Courtney

Sasha paused whatever reality show she was watching when I walked downstairs with my keys in hand and gym bag slung over my shoulder.

She zeroed in on the bag and drained the rest of what was probably a mimosa. “Where you goin’?”

“To work out. I’m not playing, but I gotta stay in shape or I’ll be useless come regular season if all I do is sit around doin’ nothin’ while in this thing.” I held up the cast.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know, I ruin everythin’.”

I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. The house had been uneasy for the past couple of days, and her passive-aggressive attitude was seriously grating on my nerves. Not enough that I wanted to bring up the topic that started it at the restaurant, because I didn’t want to get into a full-blown argument with her over the idea of children again. When was I supposed to have time to do that? With everything else I was responsible for . . . but as usual, she didn’t factor that in. She didn’t factor me in.

Meanwhile, I’d been talking with my financial guy, making sure the money was straight, and I wasn’t going to need to figure out some sort of part-time job. Luckily, my agent said she’d gotten a few calls about potential brand deals. Winning the championship had created some extra buzz and gave a boost of interest to a few places she’d been courting for a while. We were hopeful details could be ironed out soon.

“I’m gonna be gone for a couple hours. Goin’ to the arena for a workout then poppin’ into the barber shop for a touch-up.”

She smacked her lips and waved her hand there. “Whatever. Just go.”

“What’s your problem, Sasha? I’m going to work out. Nothin’ I don’t normally do. Because, again, I have to be game-ready come regular season.”

She stood, then strolled into the kitchen and started fixing herself another drink. “Yeah, because priorities, right? And to think I turned down brunch with my girls.”

“Why? It’s not like we had plans.”

“Right. I’m boo-boo the fool, callin’ myself bein’ here for my wife. I shoulda known better. But you g’on, have a good workout. I’ll find somethin’ to do with myself, like I’m always left to do. Might hit up Phipps.” She stared directly at me as she said the last part and sipped on her fresh drink.

I let my bag slide from my shoulder onto one of the barstools.

My first inclination was to tell her that me working was making her a priority, that she was always my top priority next to Mya. That working was how I made sure she had every-thing she needed and wanted. It afforded her the luxury of never bothering to even ask if we were going to be okay with me not playing overseas, or if things might get a little tight. She didn’t have to concern herself with any of those stresses.

But I didn’t say any of those thoughts.

Instead, I slid my bag over and took a seat. I just wanted to be comfortable in my own home. Growing up, no matter how much I did for myself, or how much I stepped up for Mya, being home always had me on edge because my parents seemed to resent the fact they had children. We’d cramped their lifestyle, and it’d always felt like they’d wanted me to be somewhere else. I’d hated never being able to relax and instead always had to walk on eggshells.

I wanted peace and harmony in my house, and that always seemed to be just outside of my reach. That motivational bullshit saying—be the change you want to see—popped into my head.

“Where do y’all normally do brunch?”

“Why?”

Be the change. Be the change. “Have you eaten?”

“I’ve had a little somethin’.”

I worked really hard not to have my attention go to the glass in her hand. “Would you like to go to brunch with me?”

She crossed her arms and rested her hip against the granite countertop of our kitchen island. “Are you givin’ me a pity date?”

“Why are you . . .” I stopped and took a breath. “No, Sasha. I’m trying here. I am. I’m going fuckin’ stir crazy in the house. I know what I should be doing, where I should be, and adjusting has been hard, so I’m just trying to do what I can to keep my sanity. And to make sure we keep a roof over our heads and mimosas in your mouth.”