Page 69 of The Score We Never Settled

Sterling Rochester is the Tennessee Tornadoes’ first baseman, and he’s insanely huge. The man looks like he should’ve been a linebacker in football, but he’s fast, and hepurposely takes up most of first base when a hitter is trying to get there.

And, yeah, he looks like he could throw down with the best of them.

However, that’s not the point here.

“You fucked me in secret here for two years,” I remind Briggs. “Before I started sneakin’ away. You’re good at it.”

“Because I wanted to fuck you here, but not in secret. Furthermore, I didn’t fuck her.”

“Prove it.” His brows lift before he fishes out his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Sterling.”

“For what?” He sends me an exasperated stare but continues flicking his thumb along his screen without looking. “Stop it.”

“I’m proving it.”

I push his phone down because this is ridiculous. “Enough.”

“Then tell me you believe me.”

My face skews. “No.”

His eyes cram together. “No? You wanna talk to her, instead?”

Nope.

And, honestly, I believe him.

I’m just giving him a hard time because I can and I want to. There is no trying to catch him in something; I’m just simply annoyed and being a pain in the ass.

“Can I have?—”

“No,” Briggs puts out a bit tersely. “You’re mywife, Mrs. Kerrigan. And I’m not leavin’ you upset, nor am I going to pretend this isn’t a thing for you.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why are we havin’ this conversation right now, where you look like you want to throat-punch me in front of everyone?”

“Because it keeps with the illusion.”

“Of what?”

“Me not being able to stand you.”

“That’s a bald-faced lie.”

I lift my shoulders. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You need to eat.”

“I just had a hot dog.”

“And that isn’t shit when it comes to you.” He pockets his cell phone and looks around. “If you’re not dancin’ with me?—”

“I’m not?—”

“Then I’m feedin’ you.”