The last NFL championship game was happening in Atlanta. I was on my way home for it. Before I left Aunt Joe’s house, I had to tell her I was back with Stephen. She followed football. The chances we might be photographed together, or something was too great for me not to.
Aunt Joe shrugged. “It’s your life, baby. If you think you can trust him...” She let the question hang in the air.
“I don’t know what I think. It’s early.”
She grunted. “You know you’re going to have to tell him about Isaiah.”
I nodded.
Aunt Joe’s brow wrinkled. “When are you planning to do it?”
This time it was me who shrugged. “After football season is over. He doesn’t need the distraction right now.”
Aunt Joe nodded agreement. “How do you think he’ll react?”
“Honestly, I think he’s probably going to hate me for it.”
Aunt Joe took my hand. She squeezed it. “How do you feel about him?”
I was slow to respond. I didn’t want to admit how I felt to myself, so admitting it to someone else was difficult. “I still have feelings for him.”
“You mean you love him. That’s what I thought.”
Her reaction surprised me. “I expected you to be upset.”
Aunt Joe released my hands and waved away my words. She chuckled with no joy. “Baby, I have bigger problems than what’s going on with you and Stephen.”
“I was also holding off because I was thinking you needed time. I don’t want you to worry about Isaiah.”
She frowned. “Why would I worry about Isaiah? He’s my son.”
“I know, but you’re going through a lot right now.”
“Don’t worry about me. Whatever comes of this happens, but Isaiah will always be my child. He may gain a father. That’s not a bad thing. Not at his age. And if Stephen Pierce is who he appears to be—”
“He is,” I interrupted her. Happiness and sadness swirled in my spirit about that truth. Who he was was what I loved about him, but it also scared me.
“Well, then do it.” Aunt Joe put a finger under my lowered chin. “He will understand.”
I gave my aunt a weak smile and nodded, but my heart…my heart said he would not.
Aunt Joe released my hand. “I’ll be praying for you. You go on and get on the road.”
Aunt Joe’s words about Isaiah gaining a father were on my mind the entire time I was driving back to Atlanta. After I told Stephen, it would be good for Isaiah. It might even be good for Aunt Joe. She’d have the male help she needed.
Stephen also had money. Money opened doors for everyone. I wanted Isaiah to have the opportunities having a rich father would afford him. The only person it wouldn’t be good for was me. Isaiah would be angry with me. Stephen would be angry with me. I was back to feeling like that eighteen-year-old pregnant girl who thought her baby was going to ruin her life.
And as much as Aunt Joe tried to put up a brave front, this was not a good time for her. She didn’t need stress. The doctor told us that, so I needed to keep the stress to a minimum, at least until she recovered from surgery.
I exited I-75 at Stockbridge and made my way to my best friend, Kim’s, hair salon. I entered the shop and approached the booth Kim was working at.
“You have time for one more head?” I asked, looking around at the packed waiting room.
Kim smiled. “Now you know it’s Friday, and I can’t fit anybody in.”
She wiped her hands on a towel and gave me a hug. I needed that hug, because I was seconds away from crying again. “Well, if you can’t curl my hair, do you have time to talk?”
Kim grunted. “Your face looks worse than that mop on your head. You’re seeing Stephen tonight? I might have to fit you in.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said. “A quick wash n’ go and I’ll be good. Ain’t nobody got time for all this waiting.”
Kim surveyed my head and then walked around me to look at the back. “Nothing a little water, curl cream and oil can’t fix. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you next door.”
I left the salon and went to the coffee shop.
I placed latte orders for Kim and I. I found a table. I took my phone out of my bag and went to Instagram. I didn’t have a page. I was social media skittish and would remain that way, but I kept up with Stephen on a daily basis by visiting his. He’d posted a group of pictures earlier this morning with the message:
Hello Atlanta! Grateful to God for a safe flight. I believe and expect a blessing. #FinishStrong
The day prior, he’d posted a pic taken of him catching the ball. The caption read:
I’m ready to meet my fans in Atlanta.
The day before that he’d posted a picture of a heart with the caption:
I have it for the game and her. #2loves #MyQueen #forever
I swallowed something that felt like regretful anticipation and closed the IG app.
Five minutes, later Kim entered the coffee shop. She rushed to my table and sat. “I have three heads under the dryer and one in the sink. What’s up?”
Suddenly I didn’t want to talk anymore. She was in a rush. What I had to say would take time, so I simply said, “I missed you.”
“You did not come all the way over here because you missed me.” Kim picked up the latte I’d ordered for her and took a sip.
“I was coming from Aunt Joe’s. I’m on the way home so it’s, you know, on the way.” Attempting to hide my face, I raised my cup and took a sip, too.
“You look like you’ve got something to say.”
“It’s my aunt.”
I’d updated Kim on Aunt Joe last night so there was nothing new to share.
“How’s Stephen?”
“He’s great.”
“You don’t seem too excited about that.”
I shook my head and dropped it back. How was I going to tell Stephen when I couldn’t even get up the nerve to tell my best friend?
“Kim, have you ever done something you really regretted? I mean it was the right thing at the time, but now it doesn’t feel so right anymore?”
“Like the tattoo of my ex’s name on my shoulder?”
I laughed. “Girl.”
“I’ll get it off as soon as I meet the right man.” Kim took another sip of her coffee. “But what are you talking about? You got a tat on your behind or something?”
I laughed at her silliness. She knew better than that. “No. I have something that can’t be erased.”
“Okay, I see I’m going to have to pull it out of you,” she said. “The answer to the question is, of course. I haven’t always been this marvelously in love with Jesus. I’ve made some mistakes.”
I hesitated a moment and then let the words I’d been holding back slip from my lips. “Stephen and I have another secret between us.”
Kim cocked an eyebrow and settled back in her seat for the audio version of the movie playing in my head.
When I was done telling her about Isaiah, I asked, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Her jaw was locked open. “I don’t know what to say except you continue to surprise me, Tamar Anne Ferguson.”
I released a sigh and took a sip of my coffee. “You being wordless is not helping.”
“I’m shocked,” she cried. “Do you have any more secrets?”
I chuckled through the pain in my chest. “No. I’m done. I couldn’t top that one if I tried.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to eventually tell him, but I can’t right now. Not with Auntie being so sick. She says it’s okay, but I don’t want to add stress. Her doctors say no stress.”
Kim sighed. “So, you have a son. I can’t believe it. What’s he like?”
“He’s sweet. Well mannered. Smart and funny as he can be. A good student. He’s perfect.” I shrugged. “No thanks to me.”
Kim reached for her coffee cup. “I’m sure he would have been the same child if you had raised him.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. My aunt is a special woman.”
Kim sighed again. “God works in mysterious ways.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant. “You’re not saying it’s in God’s plans for my aunt to die, are you?”
“Of course not. Aunt Joe will live to be a hundred. I mean everything. You and Stephen hooking back up after all these years, possibly when your son might need you both.”
I was still confused about what she was saying. “My aunt will get better.”
“I’m not saying she won’t, but is it possible that she needs to be focused on herself right now instead of trying to bear the weight of being a single mother? That’s what I mean by you and Stephen being available.”
I didn’t want God to reconcile anything this way. “I want to take care of her. She’s got help from her church until I get back. It’s a small town and they seem to be falling over each other coming to her aid. I can hardly talk to her on the phone for all the company she has when I call.”
“Having help taking care of her is a blessing. What’s the problem with you being the one though?”
“I’m worried that if I keep going to Yancy, someone might find out about Isaiah. You know how the media is. Our son looks like Stephen.” I scrolled through my phone and found a pic of Isaiah. Kim had seen pictures of him before, but now she would be looking at him as my son and as Stephen’s.
An eyebrow went up as Kim eyed the picture. “He’s grown so much. And he does look like his father.”
That was what I thought. “It wouldn’t be hard for people to put two and two together if they saw me with him.”
Kim frowned. “That’s something to consider. You need to stay put until you tell Stephen.” Kim cocked her head a little. “When is that going to be?”
“After surgery and maybe the first round of chemo. When Aunt Joe gets some of her strength back.”
“Are you sure she’s the one that needs it?”
“I’ve got to put some distance between my emotions and that conversation. He’s going to hate me. I don’t want to feel it. I’m already emotional.”
Kim groaned. “He’s not going to hate you.” Her phone buzzed. “It’s the shop.” She threw up a finger and took the call. “What do you mean? Don’t touch her. I’m coming.” Kim ended the call and stood. “I feel like firing my entire staff. Finish your latte and then come on and let me put your head in the sink. I’ll have you out in an hour.”
I clapped like an excited child. Kim rolled her eyes and flew out of the shop.
My phone buzzed with a text message from Stephen:
Dinner at five.
I texted him back:
I’ll see you there.
He replied:
Can’t wait to see you. He added a few heart emojis.
After Kim finished my hair, I went by my apartment, showered and changed into a cream, silk crepe, capri-length jumpsuit and a pair of ankle-high suede boots Kim had given to me for Christmas last year. I’d rarely worn them because even though it was the right season for them, boots made my feet sweat in the temperate Atlanta winters. I was used to real cold and the need for real boots.
As Stephen instructed, I valet parked my car using the team code that was reserved for family and friends. I entered the Omni CNN hotel and was given directions to the Giant’s dinner.
Moving an NFL team around was a big deal. Inclusive of the fifty players and just as many coaches, medical staff, owners, video crew and others, the Giants traveled with almost 150 people.
I met security at the door of the restaurant and showed my driver’s license. I was escorted in by another security person. He took me directly to Stephen’s table. Stephen stood, took my hand, and kissed me on the cheek. “Not a moment too soon.”
The team members at his table extended greetings, but then quickly resumed their prior activities which included talking to their own guest, swiping cell phones, and chatting with each other.
I slid my jacket off into Stephen’s waiting hand. He passed it to the security person, and it was carted to a coat check area at the back of the room.
“You look great. Have I told you I like your hair like that?” Stephen kissed my cheek again. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you until you arrived at this table.”
I appreciated his admiration. Stephen was wearing a dark gray, single-breasted, three button, peak collar designer suit with a steel gray mock turtleneck. The cross he never took off hung around his neck in full view. The entire team was dressed in suits. They all looked like the professionals they were.
“You look nice, too,” I said. “You’re pretty handsome in a suit.”
“I’m glad you like.” Stephen smiled and popped his collar. “This is me two to three days a week. I’m not always in athletic wear.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I know it was hard for you to leave your aunt, babe. I appreciate you being here for the weekend.”
“My boss had a little to do with it.” She’d assigned me to cover the inside social aspects of the championship game being held in Atlanta this weekend. That was an assignment I only got because of my relationship with Stephen.
“I want to meet that boss of yours one day. She’s been working on my behalf for a minute.”
I deadpanned him. “Eva doesn’t wake up in the morning willing to do good. Trust me on that. Besides, you were two minutes from getting on a plane and coming to South Georgia. I couldn’t let you do that.”
Stephen took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I understand why. I mean, you’re the caregiver in this scenario.”
“You’re in one of the most important playoff seasons of your career. You have to stay hashtag focused,” I teased.
Stephen chuckled. “True, but you ever think that maybe I want to meet your aunt? The only family I know is your father and your relatives from his side. I don’t know anyone from your mother’s side.”
“You know my mother’s family is tiny. I’ve met my cousins and an uncle, but my aunt is really the only person my mother seemed to care about. They talked on the phone every day.”
“You love her because your mom did. I love her because you love her. It’d be nice to meet her.”
I was saved from having to respond to his statement because noise filled the dining room. A group of about forty servers with rolling buffets entered. Two of them pulled up to our table and filled the center with dishes of food. They plated our meat and vegetable choices. Once all the tables had been served, the team chaplain said grace.
I was an introvert with social anxiety. Coupled with my love for writing, I was comfortable observing and not making small talk. The men talked about the game. The few women at the table talked about their kids and stuff. I said nothing, but I enjoyed observing Stephen in his environment. He was confident and warm. There wasn’t a brutish bone in his body which always stood in contrast to my thoughts about the game and what it took to play it.
Stereotypes. I was guilty of stereotyping athletes. When had I started doing that? Maybe it was when the one sitting next to me broke my heart. But I’d forgiven him. I really had. The distance between us had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. He had a lull in conversation, so he took my hand. His eyes met mine like he needed the touch.
“One more game,” I said, distracting him from his romantic thoughts.
Stephen smiled. “One.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “You’re good luck. We haven’t been to the Super Bowl in years.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck,” I said, remembering he hadn’t in high school.
He squinted. “I don’t really, but you’re all things good.”
Stephen always told me I was better with words, but he was impressive himself.
“I’m trying not to think beyond the game, but I can’t help it. We’ve been so busy. I feel like I need to do something to put us on solid ground.”
Busying my hands, I picked up a bottled water I’d been served and opened it. “We’re taking it slow, remember?”
He smiled. “I’m trying, but I’m fast on the field and in life. Slow don’t work for me.”
All the conversation in the room stopped when one of the coaches took the mic. Dessert was served. Speeches were made. Afterward, we attended a service at a make-shift chapel. Stephen had team meetings that took an hour. I went to a reception room with the other women and family members. I made some light conversation with a few people, but for the most part, I tried to keep to myself. I wasn’t used to the bustle of celebrity and fandom. I preferred to sit in the corner and either observe or read a book on my Kindle app.
“Tamar Johnson.”
I turned to find a woman standing behind me.
As usual, I was suspicious of unknown human beings. “You are?’
“Alicia Lyons. I’m a friend of Coach Nye. I’m also a writer.” She did a quick scan of me from head to toe. “You’re a reporter, right?”
I was not a reporter, and I didn’t like being called one. “I’m a writer. Features for a small magazine.”
“And the woman who has Stephen Pierce’s heart. In person and on Instagram.” She paused before adding, “But she’s a mystery. No one knows anything about her or what she’s been doing for the past twelve years.”
I stankfaced her. “Not like it’s anyone’s business.” I cocked my head. “I know you’re not trying to get a quote.”
She laughed. “No. It’s not like that. I’m just in search of another smart girl. I don’t want to talk about shopping and vacations.”
I nodded, but I didn’t feed into the way she’d insulted the other women.
“Anyway, I know you’re glad the talk about that old video scandal has died down.”
“I can’t imagine a scenario in which a person wouldn’t be glad a scandal died down.”
“Honey, please, some folks build their entire career on scandal. Who would the Kardashians be without it?”
I chuckled. “You got me there. Branding trouble is a thing, but they’re on another level.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere. Kim started with a tape.”
I frowned.
“Relax. I’m not even trying to suggest you use it in that way,” she said. “But I am thinking you must have a story that would make a good book.”
My frown deepened. “A book about the worst time in my life? I couldn’t fill a book about a 10-minute video.”
“The video is nothing. The story is the aftermath. That was years.” Alicia reached into her pocket and removed a card. “I ghostwrite, but I also consult. Think about it. I’m sure there’s a story you could tell that matters.”
I took her card. She gave me one more visual sweep. It was the kind of look you gave a woman when you were trying to assess if she was good enough for her man. I knew the look. I’d been getting it a lot lately. She walked away. I glanced at the card and shoved it in my clutch.
There was a rustle of noise and the doors to the conference room where the team was meeting opened. The men came in and the women and family members went to greet them. I made my way to Stephen.
“You weren’t too bored?”
“Not at all.”
“Good.” He took my hand. “We have a lounge. We can go there.” I fell into step with him.
We entered the lounge and found a sofa in a low-lit corner. Snacks were brought in. I couldn’t imagine that anyone could eat another thing. The dinner was enormous, and all of the players had plates stacked with protein. But I guess that was an hour ago.
I watched as they ate more wings, sliders, and fajitas. I helped myself to a fruit cup just to have something to do with my hands. Stephen wouldn’t stop staring at me. I felt like he was looking right down into my belly where my secrets were locked away. Or was that my guilt?
He reached into his pocket for his phone. “Let’s play a game.”
I stretched my neck to see what he had in mind.
“It’s a couple’s thing.” He opened an app.
“You’re serious.”
“It’s conversational. We need to do something. I’m trying to keep my mind off your body in that jumpsuit.”
I slapped his arm.
“You think I’m kidding?” He chuckled. “Here’s the first question. What would you change about your personality?”
I frowned. There was so much.
Stephen said, “I’ll go first. I’d make myself wittier.”
“Wittier? You’re pretty funny.”
“Yeah, but I’m not good with clapbacks. I need a little help in that area.”
“I can’t tell.”
“Trust me, I’m slow. What about you?”
“I probably would not want to be as cautious as I am.”
“Cautious. Okay. I mean we know there are some reasons for that.”
I made a little buzzer sound. “Next?”
Stephen shook his head and chuckled. “You’re silly. Okay, do you consider yourself to be a calm person?”
We both had affirmative answers to that.
The third question was, “Do you think a lot in the past?”
We both took deep breaths. I had to agree that I did. Stephen said, “Only about you. I was obsessing, but now I’m set free.”
“Next, let’s see. Do you think it’s okay to keep a secret from your mate?”
Stephen shook his head. “Definitely not. Total honesty and transparency is what’s up.”
He looked at me. I was a little tongue tied, but I nodded. “I uh, wouldn’t know really. I haven’t had a mate since I was eighteen.”
“You answer the question instinctively.”
I shrugged. “Okay, then of course not. People shouldn’t have secrets.”
Stephen cocked an eyebrow. “I can see I’m going to have to watch you.”
I smirked and reached for my fruit cup.
We played a little longer and then slipped into conversation about other things from politics to the Bible.
Then Stephen, flanked by security escorted me to the valet parking area.
“Did you enjoy yourself at any level?” he asked.
I laughed. “I had a good time. I’m surprised your parents aren’t here.”
Stephen chuckled. “I told them to stay home. Mom was angry, but I wanted to spend time with you. They’ll be at the game.”
I nodded. “This is all pretty intense.”
“This is my life on the road during the season. I love it. I love this game, and I’m good with whatever I have to do to play it.”
He pulled me into his arms and gave me a peck on the lips. “I miss you already, and you’re not even gone.”
I smiled. I raised a hand to his mouth and wiped off my lipstick. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A silver Range Rover with a large red bow attached to the hood stopped next to us. A man climbed out. He was not the valet.
“Ms. Johnson, I’m John Hobbs from Hobbs Range Rover of Atlanta.” He swept a hand in the direction of the car. “I present to you a gift from Stephen Pierce.”
Oxygen left my lungs. I raised a hand to cover my mouth.
The shine in Stephen’s eyes matched the gleam from the SUV. “It looks even better at night.”
“I can’t accept a car as a gift.”
Stephen opened the passenger side door. “Yes, you can.”
I stared. Total disbelief paralyzed me. “I can’t.”
“You have to, or you’ll have to call an Uber to get home. Yours is already gone.”
“Stephen,” I said, slapping his arm. “You can’t buy me a car.”
“Why not? You’re my woman. I want you to ride nice.”
“But I love my car. That was my first new car.”
Stephen smirked. “It was your first new car a long time ago. Mr. Hobbs is going to drive you home. He’ll show you all the bells and whistles on this one.”
Mr. Hobbs talked, and I stared. I couldn’t believe Stephen had bought me a Range Rover.
“Tamar, this has happened, so get in.”
I did as I was told. Stephen closed the door and pushed his head inside the window. “You still have your other car. I had it taken back to your place. Maybe you can donate it or something.”
I ran my fingers across the cool, buttery leather and then the glossy, woodgrain dash.
“It’s nice, right? I remember you used to talk about how you wanted a Range Rover when we were in high school. You look good in it.”
I opened my mouth to offer one last, weak protest and he pressed a finger against my lips.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I mumbled under his finger.
“It’s done. All we can talk about now is the color or something.” He smiled and stepped back from the vehicle. “Call me when you get home.”
Mr. Hobbs got in on the driver’s side. He put the car in drive and an automated voice rang out from the speakers. “We are proceeding to your home, Mrs. Pierce. There is no traffic. We should arrive in 25 minutes.”
Mrs. Pierce. I shook my head. I took one last look at Stephen. He smiled and blew me a kiss. My heart swelled. I blew him a kiss back.
The vehicle surged forward and out of the parking lot. As we rode, Mr. Hobbs told me about the features and the warranty. We arrived at my apartment complex. Mr. Hobbs pulled in front of one of the garages.
“Mr. Pierce has rented a garage for you, ma’am,” he said. He pushed a button and the door opened. He drove the vehicle inside. After a few more instructions and tips, he got out of the car. Another vehicle was idling outside of my garage. Mr. Hobbs went to the vehicle and returned with my keys. He let me know where my car was parked, and then he joined his colleague for their departure.
I stepped out of the garage and pushed the hand clicker he’d given me to put the garage door down. The entrance to my building was mere steps away. Convenient. I was sure Stephen’s money had secured this spot as well.
I took the elevator to my floor and entered my unit. I was overwhelmed by everything that had happened tonight. I’d enjoyed Stephen’s company. Even though we’d spent our time in an open and populated area, being with him was nice. Conversation was so easy. Easy like it’d always been.
I closed my eyes and released a long sigh. It would be so nice to slide into his world – a world where a man loved me. Stephen had received many a head nod from his team members who were obviously happy to see him with me.
I was enjoying my thoughts, but then I realized, everything about this night was temporary. I was Cinderella at the ball. It wouldn’t be long before the fairytale was over, and everyone was disappointed for him.
I undressed, showered, and crawled into my bed. The phone rang with a call from Stephen. I let it go to voicemail and sent him a text that I was on the phone with my aunt. He texted for me to call him when I was done.
Honesty and transparency. That’s what he wanted. But he wouldn’t get it from me. In addition to avoidance, all I had were secrets and lies, and when I eventually told him the truth, it was going to break his heart. The aftermath of that video was messing up my life, again. I looked at my phone. He’d texted:
Call me back.
The message was followed by two heart emojis and one sleepy head. I rolled over in bed, away from the phone. Away from my temptation to do what he asked – call him for whispered, sleepy words that lovers exchanged when they were apart from each other, or maybe more catching up on each other’s stories. There were lots of gaps to fill in. We were enjoying filling them in.
I let the thought drift through my mind that I could keep my secret. I toyed with the idea of not telling him about Isaiah. After all, he wasn’t legally his son.
But who was I kidding? I could never keep such a thing. Secrets had a way of coming out. Stephen wanted children. I’d have to confess to an O.B. doctor that I’d had another pregnancy.
And then, what about Isaiah? Didn’t he deserve to know that a famous, successful, good man like Stephen Pierce was his father? I was going down a rabbit hole with my thoughts. The imagination of the writer. I had a penchant for the dramatic. I knew I had to do what was right, but wrong was tempting.
I stretched my hand to the nightstand for my clutch and removed the business card I’d gotten tonight from the writer, Alicia Lyons.
“Tell your story,” she’d said. “It’ll be great,” she’d said.
My story was not unique. What was special about a virgin getting pregnant on prom night? Who wanted to read that?
I put Alicia’s card on the nightstand. I wouldn’t throw it away, because no writer worth their salt ever tossed a business card, but I wasn’t going to write. My story would be another American tragedy.
I rolled over again and found myself face-to-face with my cell phone and the call to Stephen. I swiped the screen and let my finger hover over his name.
I thought about those whispered, sleepy words he’d utter in his deep, velvety voice and pulled my finger back. I wanted to hear those words, but I had to protect my heart.
I put the phone on the nightstand, turned off the light, and pulled the comforter over my head.
“Sorry, babe.”