* Please take a look at my novels on Amazon (available in both paperback and Kindle editions). I write under the penname of MOLLY TAGGART. Current titles include OFF TARGET and ROOTS THAT CLUTCH. *

Chapter 1: The Phone Call

Tami put her plate and Gracie's in the sink and Eric's in the refrigerator. One of the advantages of Philadelphia was that Eric rarely missed dinner. Practices were typically early in the morning or afternoon instead of into the evening, and, except on game nights, he was usually home in time to make her dinner. It had been an interesting reversal in roles, forcing Eric to go beyond his usual catalog of chili, pancakes, and burgers. Tami had been surprised with how little protest he had risen to the task, and was even a little miffed that he seemed to cook as well as she did, once he got into it.

Tonight was an exception, however. Coach Taylor had called a late practice in preparation for the Pioneer's upcoming game, and he would likely hit rush hour traffic on the way back. It wasn't as if he had never lived in a city before, but he managed to complain about the traffic anyway. He claimed Austin traffic was easier because the drivers were more courteous. She agreed with him, but she wouldn't admit it. She wanted him to be happy here in Philadelphia.

Tami had been bowled over by the way he had rushed to her in that mall in Dillon, giving her that early Christmas present, not saying "I'll give in," or "you're making me feel guilty," or "if I have to do it to appease you," but instead "I want" – "I want," and "take me with you." She knew compromise was never easy, that when she had been the one on the giving end, a little resentment had lingered. She had hoped it would somehow be different this time, but Eric's gripes were starting to get to her. He hadn't acclimated to Philadelphia yet. He rarely had a good word to say about their new environment and often made negative comparisons.

Tami was always pointing out the good things, but if she were honest with herself…she's had some difficulty adjusting too. The worst was when the college's President had intimated to her that maybe she wasn't dressing professionally enough, that she needed to be more modest in her choice of blouses. He had been polite and subtle enough with the suggestion; that wasn't the problem. It was the secretary who had muttered beneath her breath – maybe Tami was just imagining it, but she didn't think so – "Texas trash."

She had been in near tears the evening she told Eric about it, which she hadn't wanted to do – hadn't wanted to give him one more reason not to love Phili. But she hadn't been able to keep the fact that she was upset from him. "You're just too sexy for the East Coast, babe," he had said. "People are intimidated by you, that's all. And that woman's just jealous." His words weren't as comforting as his indignation, as he stomped angrily about the kitchen slamming cupboards, clearly angry anyone would dare to insult his wife, and probably wishing it had been a man instead of a woman, so that he could defend her honor. While she was angry and offended at the crassness and prejudice of the secretary, she wasn't actually upset about changing her style a little; she had begun to feel that, given the academic climate and the professionalism of her job, maybe a little more modesty was in order after all. She didn't mind adapting to that expectation so much as she minded the fact that she hadn't been left to come to the conclusion herself.

Today had been a good day, however, one in which she had been affirmed for her abilities as a dean and had come home loving life, loving her job, and looking forward to the future.

Until the phone rang.

Even now, she was still reeling from the shock, and she wasn't sure how she was going to tell Eric when he got home. After rush hour traffic, he would already be tense and irritated– not exactly an ideal time to share the news. Maybe she should keep it from him for a day or two...but if he lost the upcoming game, it would be an even worse time…maybe she could keep it a few weeks, just in case it turned out…no, that wouldn't be right…she would have to tell him sometime soon. Maybe it needn't be tonight, but Tami had always been the mother who had pulled the bandaid off in one quick stroke, to get the pain all over with. Over the years, she'd found the bandaid approach also worked better with Eric than the slow peel.

She heard the door open and rose to grab Eric's plate back out of the fridge. She shot up a quick prayer that he was in a good mood. "Hey, babe," she called. "I'm just heating up your dinner for you."

Coach Taylor entered the kitchen, tossed the mail on the counter, and kissed Gracie on the top of her head before sitting at the table. No kiss for her when he walked in, Tami thought. That wasn't necessarily a bad sign, especially considering how quickly and silently he scarfed down his dinner; perhaps he had just been hungry.

"How was your commute?" she asked as she cleared his plate. She wasn't going to make him do dishes tonight, even though she had cooked. Not when she had this news to tell him.

"Not as bad as I expected, actually. I guess I left just late enough to miss the rush. How was your day?"

"Fine. Just fine." When she had finished the plates, she walked over and began to massage his shoulders.

He murmured and leaned back against her, "How come you're being so nice to me this evening?"

"Aren't I always nice to you, sugar?"

He smiled, his eyes closed, enjoying the massage. "Sometimes. Sometimes."

When she leaned over from above him and kissed his upturned lips, Grace cried, "No! No! In-uh-pro-pit!", a protest she had learned from her big sister Julie to make any time their parents grew too affectionate.

Eric laughed. "Just like your sister Jules. But you're going to be less trouble, right Gracie?"

"Trouble?" Grace repeated.

Trouble. Something they'd been relatively free of since they moved to Philadelphia. No bricks through the windows here, no boosters showing up on the door step at midnight, no one pushing Eric to recruit illegally, no one pushing Eric to do much of anything at all. It had been peaceful for a change, and Tami knew that, if nothing else, he appreciated that aspect of his new job; the tension that had been almost a daily experience in Dillon had just sort of drained from his muscular body. She didn't want to renew it by telling him the news, but she was going to have to do it eventually, once Gracie was in bed.

"How was your day?" she asked, pouring him a glass of wine. She appreciated that, even though he was more of a beer man, he was willing to forgo it most evenings and split a bottle of wine with her. She didn't like opening one just for herself, and now seeing a wine bottle always reminded her of their connection, of the way he was willing, indeed wanted to sit and talk and catch up with her in the evening, to listen to what she had to say.

"A'ight," he answered. "Except they've told me I have to teach driver's ed in addition to P.E."

"Well I bet that's going to be fun for you. That's not going to make you tense at all, will it? That'll be a relaxing little teaching position for you."

She loved the way he looked when he gave her that sarcastic laugh, the flash of white teeth. "Well, it's better than teaching Health I guess. That's what Jimmy" – his assistant coach – "pulled. He gets to answer all their sex-related questions."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd be great at that too, hon." She could capture a sarcastic tone almost as well as he could.

"With all my experience, right?"

"Well, you were a football player."

"Yeah, and you were the second and last girl I ever seriously fooled around with in my life, Tami. And that was over two decades ago."

"Oh, I've let you get lucky a few times since then, hon."

"You know what I meant. See, and there you go again, stereotyping a whole group, even though you know me."

"Only because you're cute when you're riled up." And he was, when he was only playfully riled up…not quite as much when something was really upsetting him. Maybe he was cute then, too, but she was usually too worried about how he was going to handle his emotions to notice it. She wasn't looking forward to upsetting him tonight.

When Gracie's bedtime had come and gone, they settled down on the couch.

"I've got something to tell you you aren't going to want to hear."

Eric sighed. "Shoot," he said.

Tami topped off her wine glass with a generous pour, took a sip, steadied her resolve, and prepared to rip the bandaid off. It wasn't going to be pretty.