Chapter Ten

“Mommy, get up.” Tatum pounced on my bed.

I didn’t know what time it was, but any time I was awakened from a deep sleep was too early. I reached out and wrapped my arms around the little monkey and pulled her under the covers. “Snuggle in and go back to sleep.”

“Mah-ah-ahm! Wake up. Tree can see through the TV.” She put her face so close our noses touched.

“Wha-a-a-t?” I yawned and stretched.

“He said ‘Hi’ and told me to go to bed. Oh, and he said I’m the cutest thing on the planet, too.”

“What? Honey, you’re not making any sense. Tree had a game in Phoenix last night. And what do you mean, he talked to you?” I gently pushed her away so I wouldn’t go crossed-eyed.

“He did, last night while you were gone. I was in bed, but my tummy growled and wanted a cupcake, so I snucked into the kitchen. The babysitter had basketball on, and didn’t see me ’cause I’m tricky, but Tree is trickier, ’cause he saw me through the TV. This reporter lady said stuff, and then he looked at me through the TV. Get up, Mamma.”

I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, scratching my head. How strange. Tatum made no sense.

“Come on. I’ll show you.” She tugged at my hand.

I let out a big sigh. Sleeping in…not on the agenda after all. I trudged down the stairs to the family room.

Tatum turned on the TV and handed me the remote. “Go fast to the end. Tree is magic.”

I found the recorded game and fast forwarded to the end. Shoot, now I knew they won. I had planned on watching the game last night, but the gas explosion I covered had run late into the night. Oh well, I’d still watch it later. I didn’t want to miss any of Zave’s games—or Zave. I paused, then forwarded slowly through a bunch of commercials until I saw his large and quite fine frame next to a sandy-haired reporter.

“Yeah, here.” Tatum bounced on the sofa next to me.

The reporter held the microphone up to her mouth and spoke loudly over the still cheering crowd. “Another triple tonight, Triple X. I did a little fact checking and found that you have passed Wilt Chamberlain and Russel Westbrook’s records of thirty-one triple doubles. You’re closing in on Oscar Robinson’s forty-one triple doubles from 1962. Is this what your legacy will be?”

Zave leaned down to the microphone and answered, “I just try to play my best each game.”

“Throughout your career you’ve had a number of nicknames. The Green-Eyed Giant in high school, Thunder Mountain in college, and now of course, Triple X. Which is your favorite?” The reporter flashed a big smile and giggled as if she had said something clever. A little green-eyed monster reared up in me. She sure knew a lot about Zave, and she was totally trying to flirt.

“My favorite nickname? I think that would be Tree.” Zave smiled his big, lopsided grin and looked directly into the camera, then added, “Hi, Tatum. Get to bed—it’s late.”

“Hold on. We hear rumors of Rhonda Santori, the team owner’s daughter…Uh…who’s Tatum?”

Zave laughed. “Never believe rumors. I can tell you this, though. Tatum is about the cutest thing on the planet.” He winked into the camera, turned, and walked toward the locker room.

Apparently, the interview was over.

The reporter seemed surprised but pulled herself together quickly. “Well, umm…more on this soon, I’m sure.” She tossed it back to the sportscasters.

“Well, okay then.” I fell back against the sofa, chuckling.

“See, Mommy? Tree can see me. Isn’t that soooo cool? Can I have a cupcake for breakfast?”

“How about if I whip up a banana smoothie with that cupcake?” I followed her to the kitchen, amazed at the simple brilliance and wonder of children, especially my adorable little girl…and Zave wasn’t half bad himself. I smiled.