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Declan Bishop was thirty-three years old, was shooting guard for the Atlanta Ravens, and had a Doberman named Zeke that he loved showing off on his Instagram. His favorite color was orange. He’d formerly played for two other teams, but his jersey number remained the same. Seventeen.
There was a sheet of paper attached about rumors of him dating a model named Giselle Grace. A lot of people said they were in a committed relationship, while other people thought they had an open relationship. Neither had been confirmed or denied by them.
Me and my husband Lewis. We’d eloped in Hawaii. I found the courage to smile back at the photo, which was progress, seeing as it’d been seven months since he died.
Lew had given it to me on our second anniversary. He had said dragonflies brought love and promising changes.
It was Thursday, the day of the week when my sisters and I reserved at least thirty minutes of our time for a FaceTime call. Between her and my other sister, Whitney, they made me want to bash my head into a wall.
“You’ve made a terrible habit of roping people in just to let them down, Declan. Don’t go ruining people’s lives because of your inflated ego.”
All the qualities I was looking for in my dream woman: Davina Klein had them.
something told me I would regret not seeing her again. And if there was one thing about me, I was going to follow that inner voice. I didn’t know what it was about that woman.
“We can stick with the basics tonight. I don’t wanna throw off the lifestyle thing you have going on. And, like you said, this is business. But next time we’ll be celebrating with proper drinks.
As we locked eyes and sipped, I tried very hard to ignore that warm, fuzzy feeling inside me.
“My oldest sister grew up as the caretaker. She was like a second mom, when I think about it. She was always taking care of me. Then again, I’m the youngest, so . .
“One of the downfalls is that your parents are harder on you, but only because they’re afraid of what the world will do to you. You’re basically this guinea pig, and they’re trying to figure you out and how to get you to navigate the world properly. But as you age, they begin to trust you, so much so that they want you to watch over their other kids. But with that comes the annoyance of babysitting on weekends, when what you really want is to go out and have fun with your friends—and you can’t, because your ‘parent’ has to work, or they end up having things planned for themselves.” I fiddled
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Why did he have to look at me like that? Like he owned every part of me, down to my blood cells. This man oozed sex appeal, and he knew it.
She had a nice smile, wasn’t too heavy on the makeup, and she was herself. In a world full of bullshit and plastic, it was a nice reprieve to be around a female who was her authentic self. If she didn’t have those rings on her finger, she would’ve already been mine.
I couldn’t believe I’d missed the rings when I first saw her in the office. Or maybe I was just being willfully ignorant. Seeing them at Silver Wolf was a wake-up call that filled me with disappointment. I never would’ve asked her to dinner if I’d known she was married. I could get down with a lot of things, but fooling around with a married woman wasn’t one of them.
but I’d felt a connection there. I wasn’t tripping. I’d been sure she could feel it, too . . . but she had a man, so that was that.
A part of me felt guilty for enjoying my time with another man. Acting like I hadn’t been clinging to my husband’s dead body just months ago.
“That’s good to know. And about you brightening up a room, I believe that’s true. There’s a light in you. Shines bright. I like it.” He winked, and my heart fluttered.
The last thing I wanted was Deke’s pity. Plus, I didn’t like talking about Lew’s terminal illness with anyone other than my family and Tish.
“You know what works? Flowers, man. Women love getting them for no reason.”
Giselle Grace, the woman everyone assumed was my girlfriend. That was a stretch by this point.
Despite how superficial she was, it was nice spending time with someone rather than being alone and drowning in my thoughts.
I know it sounds crazy, but it’s like all these moments flashed before me when I looked into your eyes that day. I could see you walking down the aisle to marry me, us buying a house together and me kissing you at the threshold while I held you in my arms. Making love . . . having kids .
“Because I want you to know that even though we vowed to spend the rest of our lives together, you should be happy. Whether I’m here or not.”
“You can talk to other people,” he went on, ignoring me. “You can be with someone else and let them make you happy, just like I did. You can fall in love again, so long as you’re living your best life.”
Can you imagine half your heart being ripped out of your chest? The other half keeps beating, but it’s damaged beyond repair, and not a damn thing can mend it.
There are no words to truly define grief, but if I had to imagine them, I’d say grief is a beast who likes to stomp, claw, and bite until you’re stripped of everything. Then, when you finally gain some balance, it returns for another round, and the cycle continues, until you’re nothing but a hollow shell waving a white flag.
Grief is a whole other pain, one I’m very familiar with, yet there she was, smiling and going to dinner with me like her life hadn’t been forever altered.
Davina needed to hear from me personally.
“Oh, now you want to grieve?” I frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?” “All you do is work, and if you’re not working, you’re pretending to be busy with other things. The only reason that rebranding party isn’t happening is because Tish didn’t think it should be so close to Lew’s birthday. You agreed with her for a reason. I’ve hardly seen you cry since the week he died.”
My gaze flickered over the counter to Lew’s favorite hair pomade that I still didn’t have the balls to move or throw away. Some mornings, I liked to open it and smell it.
I’d mentioned tulips being my favorite flower at the photo shoot a few weeks prior. I couldn’t believe he remembered such a small detail about me—something so minuscule during a mindless conversation. I picked up my fork and smiled.
I wasn’t sure why this feeling had come over me the last few years, but I’d developed a bitterness toward my mother that I couldn’t shake.
The decisions she’d made when I was younger affected me even now. I bet my life could’ve been so much better had she stepped up to the plate, but she hadn’t until I was almost out of high school.
People claim grief is a process—like it’ll end one day and never be thought of again—but that’s far from the truth. Grief is an ongoing cycle and is totally reliant on your mood and vulnerability.
“Davina, this isn’t busying yourself. This is distracting yourself.”
Sure, most of that love came from women who wanted a selfie or a quick fuck, but it felt good knowing I was someone to them. It felt good being recognized solely as Deke Bishop and no one else.
“I would never think that about you—or anyone who just lost a person they care about.”
There is such a thing as being touch starved. I craved a man’s touch, a possessive grip—anything that would drive my body wild. I wanted to be comforted and was willing to take it in the form of a mildly cocky, multimillion-dollar athlete . . . so long as there weren’t any strings attached to it.
I wasn’t the only person by the fountain who was grieving. He was too. That’s why he cared. That’s why he came to find me. Who had he lost? Who was he grieving?
A thought struck me, fleeting and intrusive. I wanted his hand to go lower—to see what it felt like to have that large palm of his grip my ass. It’d been a long time since I was held.
I’m convinced growing up is a curse. All the emotions hit you harder and the innocence fades when you get a dose of the real world. This earth is supposed to be our playground, and yet every day feels like walking through a war zone.
Why did he want to text now? Texting him would have been taking a step up .
“Why? Because you know it’ll lead to something you can’t resist?”
“All I know is for a man who is famous, with a schedule as hectic as his, that means something. People make time for the things they want, Davina.
Truth is I think you’re bullshitting me and for someone who always wants honesty and truths, I find it ironic that you can’t return the favor. So tell me what I did wrong, D.
I only gave her my number so I could hear her voice before I broke something. After hearing about Mama and my piece-of-shit dad, it seemed like talking to her would calm me down. That was my bad for relying on a woman so wounded, though.
You cannot make a person move faster with something like this.”
want her to process it. I want her to acknowledge it. I don’t even mind being there while she does. Don’t ask me why, but I care about this girl and her well-being. I can relate to her in so many ways, and yes, I do want to know more about her, but I can’t do that if she doesn’t let me in.”
“So this woman bruised your ego. Are you sure that is not why you want her? So you can prove to yourself that you can get her? That you have still got it, as you Americans like to say?”
