For a second night, Will couldn’t sleep. His body was sluggish and tired, but his brain wouldn’t give in to the numbness that slumber would provide. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. Julianne had never been in his loft or in this bed, but he swore he could smell her on the sheets. Everywhere he turned in the bed, her scent was there.
He was going mad. Bat-shit crazy like his wife. His fake wife. Make that soon-to-be-ex-fake wife. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten about the fake part. And that was how he’d gotten screwed.
Yanking off the tangle of sheets, Will jumped out of the bed in frustration. The sounds from the city blared beyond the windows. It was just the noise. Will always had trouble adjusting to the traffic sounds when he returned to Baltimore. He turned on the white noise machine and set it to play ocean sounds. Soon the room was filled with the sound of Chances Inlet and the sea lapping at the beach.
But when he turned back to the bed, he was once again reminded of Julianne. The tousled sheets brought back memories of rolling around on the mattress with his wife beneath him. She was a whirling dervish, leaving chaos in her wake. He was glad to be rid of her. Except his body was hard just thinking about what she could do to him.
Damn it!
Will gave up on the idea of sleep and trudged down to the kitchen. A half-eaten pizza sat in its box on the counter, surrounded by three empty beer bottles and two dirty plates. Hell, even his kitchen looked like Julianne had been in it. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza out of the box, not bothering with a plate this time. Padding over to the refrigerator to get a beer, he heard his cell phone beep. He’d purposely left it downstairs to avoid the incoming calls, mostly from his mother and Julianne.
Settling on the sofa, Will took a bite of the pizza before tossing it onto the coffee table as the phone beeped again. He ripped the phone out of the docking station and glanced at the screen. Just as he suspected, a voice mail from Julianne. Hadn’t she gotten the message? He didn’t want to talk to her. He couldn’t bear to talk to her.
The voice mail had been left just after midnight. Good, she couldn’t sleep, either, Will thought with satisfaction. But then he immediately considered Owen. What if the baby was sick? Or worse? Panic clenched at his gut as he put the phone on speaker and clicked on the message before thinking better of it. Julianne’s husky voice filled the loft.
“Hi.” Just that one word was enough to rip the breath from Will’s lungs, his body heating up instantly. He hated how much power she had over him. Even in disgust, he still craved her, ached for her.
“Um,” she continued. “Since it looks like you plan on being in Baltimore for the next few days, I’ve decided to bring Owen up there so you can spend time with him.”
No! Seeing Owen meant seeing the boy’s mother, and Will wasn’t ready for that yet.
“The whole point of this . . . marriage was so you could bond with him, and that’s not going to happen if you’re seven hours away. He misses you,” she added tenderly.
Her words nearly ripped Will’s heart out of his chest.
“We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I guess I’ll just text you when we arrive. Unless you want to be a grown-up and talk directly.” There was an exasperated pause. “Good night, Will.”
He chucked the phone onto the coffee table, barely missing the slice of pizza. She wasn’t just crazy, she was the queen of manipulation. Julianne would definitely use their son to get back into Will’s life. Fortunately, he saw right through her. He didn’t need the distraction of her in Baltimore this week, but the fact of the matter was, he did miss Owen. Something would have to be worked out. Something that didn’t involve him having to interact with Julianne.
Grabbing his phone again, Will scrolled through the photos of Owen he had taken. His throat constricted as he perused the pictures. He missed the feel of Owen sleeping against his chest and the sweet smell of clean baby after his bath. Will hadn’t realized how much of his life revolved around the little guy. After the hearing, the two of them would probably be spending a lot more of the season together than Will had originally imagined. It was the one consolation of the decision he’d made.
He laid the phone back on the table, which was littered with documents. The subpoena sat next to the custody agreement Roscoe had drafted up earlier. His agent had not been happy with either of the decisions Will had made over pizza and beer a few hours before.
“I know if I look hard enough,” Roscoe had advised him. “I can find something on her that will ensure you full custody.”
“No,” Will had replied. “That would only hurt Owen. Besides, you’re going to need to spend your time trying to get my suspension lifted so I can play football this fall.”
Roscoe had heaved a sigh. “Or you could just tell the committee and the league what they want to know, thus avoiding suspension altogether.”
“I’m not snitching.”
“The man is guilty, Will,” Roscoe had argued.
“Probably. But it’s not my story to tell, Roscoe. I have no proof where that money came from. Neither does the committee. It’s all conjecture. There are likely dozens of guilty players who know a hell of a lot more than I do. Let the committee target them.”
“The whole world will presume you’re guilty if you don’t talk.”
That part wasn’t as easy to swallow, but Will figured it was the price he had to pay for keeping quiet these past eight years. Back then, he’d been a fledgling player without a home in the league, his only evidence coming from his gut. Now he would play the waiting game, hoping Coach Zevalos developed a conscience before he died. Hoping the man wasn’t as diabolical as the media made him out to be. That would mean Will’s loyalty those early years was totally misguided.
“And your son? What will you tell him when he’s old enough to ask?”
Will had taken a long swallow of beer before he was able to answer Roscoe. “Let’s hope it’s cleared up before then.”
Roscoe had muttered a few choice words about not getting paid enough, but then he’d let it go. “At least you were smart enough to have Julianne sign all the separation papers before the marriage. It will move the process along that much more quickly. I want to file right away, so people will know she sold you out. We don’t want her to have any sympathy with the public. You’ll need it all on your side.”
Will wished he’d felt a little more comfortable with Roscoe’s plan than he actually did. But he couldn’t overlook the fact that Julianne had shared his secret with her brother. She was guilty and she deserved what was coming. It was her fault their separation would be linked to his testimony.
“You have to wait a full year for the divorce, so that’s another key reason to get the papers filed as soon as possible,” Roscoe had added.
“Great, now I really feel like a famous celebrity. My separation is going to last longer than the marriage,” Will had said wryly, before taking another sip of his beer.
“Don’t feel bad, you’ve still got Britney Spears beat.”
Will had scrubbed his hand down his face. “Hell, I’m not sure I want to ever hear my name and Britney Spears’s in the same sentence.”
That had made Roscoe chuckle. “Seriously, we’re not done talking about Owen’s custody.” He held his hands up. “After the hearing. For now, I’m just glad I have the kid’s birth certificate in my safe. She can’t get him out of the country without it.”
“She won’t take Owen out of the country.”
“Yeah? This is the same woman who sold you out to a Senate committee, dumbass. Stop thinking with your dick and use your brain. She’s capable of anything.”