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The wedding really felt like our goodbye.

In a way, it was our goodbye. Literally.

We’ve barely seen each other since we got back from Denver, and now the first game of the season is in forty-eight hours and he won’t be playing. I assume he’s keeping himself busy because he doesn’t want to deal with the reality of his suspension, but he’s literally never home.

Admittedly, I haven’t called Allen back and told him to go ahead with filing. I’m not sure what I’m holding onto, though. He seemed like he wanted to work on communication between us, and then he cut it off the moment we landed back in Vegas.

I don’t know where Travis has been spending his days, but I’m doing the nanny thing with taking Harper to school in the morning on my way to Ellie’s. I work all day and pick her up after school, and then we come home and I help her with her homework until it’s time to make dinner. It’s monotonous, but it’s a routine, one Harper seems to be thriving on.

“How’s Travis dealing with the season starting tomorrow?” Ellie asks me around lunchtime on Friday.

I shrug. “I’ve barely seen Travis since we got back from Denver.”

Her brows pull together. “Why not?”

“I have no idea. He gets home in time to put Harper to bed and then he goes into his office. I think he’s keeping himself occupied so he doesn’t have to face missing the season. Or maybe he’s spending time at that secret sex club. Who knows?”

“He hasn’t talked to you at all about the suspension?” she presses.

I shake my head. “Why?”

She lifts a shoulder, but her eyes sparkle just a little as if she knows something I don’t.

My brows dip. “What’s going on?”

She just presses her lips into a fake smile as if she’s not talking, and I narrow my eyes at her. She shoots me a look of total innocence, but I get the feeling something’s going on.

And I’m not sure if I like it. I’ve grown close to Ellie along with Leah and Tessa, and I feel like they’re real friends to me now.

But for how long? How long will that last once the divorce goes through and I’m no longer part of the football wife club?

I trudge through my day as that thought plagues my mind.

I get a text from Travis just before it’s time to leave to pick up Harper from school.

Travis: I have some things to take care of this weekend and need to take a quick trip out of town. Are you available to watch Harper?

I would’ve spent the weekend with Harper if Travis was playing on Sunday anyway, so we do what I figured we’d do if he was gone. We do a little reading. We turn on the game for a while even though Travis isn’t there. We cook together, and we have dance party after dance party. We get in the pool and swim, and then we do a little more reading.

The Aces win the first game without Travis, and he gets home Sunday night just in time to get his daughter down for bed. I wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe we’re getting divorced, but I still love him, and I still care about him. Something pulls inside me to make sure he’s doing okay.

I hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and he walks straight for the pantry to grab down the bottle of tequila. Just like we did in that hotel room in Denver, he takes a swig then hands me the bottle.

“You doing okay?” I ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Yes and no. Did today suck? Yes. But do I have any other choice than to just deal with it?”

“You can talk about it,” I say a little dryly. “Where’d you go this weekend?”

He twists his lips then guzzles another sip from the bottle. He clears his throat. “California.”

“Your parents?”

He nods but keeps it vague.

“Are they okay?”

He nods again, and he passes me the bottle. “I had some legal stuff to take care of.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I realize how that sounded now.” He chuckles a little. “I guess given the last few months, I should clarify. I’m not in any trouble or anything. At least not any more trouble. I paid my fines and finished my anger management classes, and I’ve got most of the service hours done now.”

“Was it about the divorce?” I ask quietly.

He shakes his head. “I have a project I’ve been working on and needed help with some paperwork. My father’s been helping me out.”

“Not Allen?”

“It’s more…personal, I guess.” He shrugs. “And my dad had a few things for me to review with the Randall’s estate while I was there, too. I’m the custodian for all of it even though I hardly knew them.”

“You know them through her,” I say softly, pointing upstairs.

He nods, and he looks a little…despondent. Forlorn.

Sad.

He looks like he needs a hug, and I feel the strong urge to be the one to give it to him. I walk into him and link my arms around him.

He wraps his arms around me, too, and I rest my cheek on his chest.

“That must’ve been hard,” I say.

“It’s just…strange. It’s walking into a house of ghosts. One car in the garage. The other was totaled. Clothes hanging in the closet. There was some food in the pantry that I tossed out. I didn’t have the heart to do it when I was there for the funeral. My dad had a cleaning crew go in just after we came back here to take out anything perishable. Their bed is made like it’s waiting for them to come home and get in it. Everything’s neat except for the new layer of dust since it’s been closed up for months.” He shudders a little, and I hear a sniffle.

My heart squeezes for him.

I wish I could take away his pain. I wish I could make it better, and instead, I’m compounding it with a divorce I know he doesn’t want, and that doesn’t even take into account the fact that he’s suspended and missing important events and games with his team right now.

But just because I feel bad for him doesn’t mean I can live a lie. I still have to do what’s right for me even if it’s the harder thing.

As he holds me in his arms here in his kitchen, though, I’m having a hard time remembering why going through with the divorce is what’s right for me.