Chapter 8 - End

The final day came, and Davis had eventually decided to choose Jake for the youth team. Davis thought that he could not let Lisa and Mark down after all the benefits he got from them. Leo was also supporting the decision.

The next morning, Lisa came downstairs to find Mark already at the kitchen table. He wasn't eating. He was just sitting there, coffee in hand, watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.

"You were up late," he said.

"Couldn't sleep."

Mark nodded slowly. He took a sip of his coffee, set the mug down, and folded his hands on the table.

"You know," he said quietly, "I've been thinking. About everything you've done for Jake."

Lisa's stomach tightened. “Mark … "I," she said

"I'm proud of you," he said. "I know that sounds strange. I know it's not the kind of thing a husband is supposed to say. But look at what you secured for our family. Look at Jake's future now. That's because of you. Because you were willing to do what other mothers wouldn't."

Lisa's breath caught. She had never told him the details. She had never had to. But the way he said it , calm, knowing, without a trace of anger or jealousy, told her everything.

He knew.

And he wasn't hurt.

He was grateful.

They both looked at each other for long moment, their plan had paid off. Their son’s future was promised now.

At the next practice, Lisa took Jake to the gym as usual. She settled onto the familiar stool by the wall, watching the kids run drills across the polished floor.

Then she saw her.

Carol, Liam's mother, standing near the far bleachers.

A cold knot tightened in Lisa’s stomach. She suddenly recalled her first conversation with Mark, the night they decided to play Davis’s game. Mark had told her what Davis said about Carol: “Liam’s mother makes me happy. She’s good with her hands.”

Lisa had done much more than that.

She gazed at Carol from across the gym, a quiet fire building behind her calm expression. “My son won,” she thought, “because I was prepared to do much more than you.”

But then Davis walked over to Carol. He stood close, too close for comfort, chatting easily, laughing at something Carol said. Carol was holding something in her hand, though Lisa couldn’t make out what. Whatever it was, Davis seemed deeply interested.

Lisa’s pulse quickened. She left her stool and walked closer, weaving between parents and equipment bags until she could see clearly.

Carol was holding a small blue box.

Before Lisa could react, Davis spotted her. He waved her over.

“Lisa! You have to try Carol’s cookies,” Davis said, gesturing enthusiastically toward the blue box. “Carol’s cookies are the best. She’s good with her hands; her cookies always make me happy.”

Lisa froze.

The words hit her like a slap. “Good with her hands. Makes me happy.” The exact same phrase. The exact same warmth in his voice.

For a long, terrible moment, Lisa forgot how to breathe. She stood rooted to the polished gym floor, staring at Carol’s gentle smile and Davis’s easy, unbothered expression. The blue box was open now, inside, neatly arranged rows of chocolate chip cookies, still slightly warm judging by the faint steam rising from the parchment paper.

“Go on, take one,” Carol said kindly, extending the box toward Lisa. “I brought extra. I know how long these practices can get.”

Lisa’s hand moved on its own, reaching in and pulling out a cookie. She didn’t want it. She couldn’t taste it. But she bit down anyway, chewing mechanically while her mind raced.

“He said the same thing. Word for word.”

Lisa was shocked. She was speechless.

Her mouth hung open slightly, the cookie halfway to her lips. Davis had just said it right in front of her, right out in the open: "She's good with her hands. Her cookies always make me happy."

But it wasn't what she thought.

It was never what she thought.

Lisa stared at the blue box. At the innocent, slightly crumbly cookies inside. At Carol's warm, unassuming smile. At Davis's genuine, almost childlike delight as he reached for a second cookie.

He meant baking.

All this time, he was just talking about baking.

The realization hit her like a wave of ice water. She thought back to that conversation with Mark, the one where Mark had come home with a sly grin and whispered, "Davis told me Liam's mother makes him happy. Says she's good with her hands."

They had both looked at each other and silently agreed on what that meant. Not because Davis had implied anything inappropriate. But because they had dirty minds. Because they had been looking for permission to cross a line, and so they heard permission in words that were never spoken.

At the end of the practice, two new faces she didn’t recognize approached Davis , it was Rick and Ted, the new professional youth team coaches, both tall and handsome Black men in their 40s. Davis introduced Lisa to them as Jake's mother.

Both were excited to meet Lisa for the first time, the all chatted for several minutes while the kids were changing in the locker room.

That night, Lisa didn't tell Mark what happened. She sat at the kitchen table long after he went to bed, staring at the half-empty wine bottle. She knew that what she had done with Davis and Leo she could not roll back. Eventually, she got what she had wanted for Jake. And actually, she did enjoy the way it was achieved, although it was hard for her to admit.

Now she thought, What will be coming next now that Jake got the promotion? Will I have additional encounters? Should she stop?

But deep down, Lisa didn't want to stop. Having sex with other men was something she looked forward to: the thrill, the attention, and the feeling of being desired.

She needed an excuse to continue. Mark already knew, and he didn't mind as long as it was for their son's future.

So Lisa decided to give him one.

A few days later, Lisa came home from practice looking unsettled. She walked past Mark without saying a word, set her bag down, and stood by the kitchen window with her arms crossed.

Mark noticed immediately. "What happened? You look like you've seen something."

Lisa turned slowly, her expression carefully constructed, worried, but not panicked. Uncertain, but not lost.

"I heard something today," she said quietly. "On the court during practice."

Mark set down his phone. "What kind of something?"

Lisa walked to the table and sat across from him. She leaned in, lowering her voice as if someone might be listening.

"You know Rick and Ted, the new professional youth team coaches?

Mark nodded. "Yeah. What about them?"

"They were at practice today. Standing with Davis and Leo. Just watching at first. But then I got closer, I pretended I was looking for Jake's water bottle, and I heard something."

Mark's eyes narrowed. "What did you hear?"

Lisa hesitated, letting the silence stretch just long enough to feel real.

"Rick said something about budget cuts. Something about a sponsor pulling out next season." She paused, biting her lip. "He said they might have to release some kids from the youth team. Not because of talent, because of money."

Mark's face went pale. "Release kids? Jake just got on the team."

"I know." Lisa reached across the table and put her hand on his. "That's why I kept listening. Ted said they haven't made final decisions yet.

Mark sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "So what are you saying? That Jake's spot isn't secure?"

"I'm saying," Lisa replied slowly, "that we need to make sure Rick and Ted keep Jake's interests in mind."

Mark was quiet for a long time. She could see him processing.

After a long silence, he reached for her hand and held it tightly.

"So, do what you have to do, Lisa," Mark said.

“He bought it," she told herself.

She had invented Rick and Ted's conversation out of thin air. No budget cuts. No sponsor issues. Nothing but a carefully crafted lie wrapped in just enough truth to feel real. And Mark, trusting, grateful Mark, had swallowed it whole.

That night, both of them went to bed pretending to be asleep.

Lisa lay on her side, eyes closed, breath slow, but her mind was racing. She was already planning her next move. Rick and Ted. The new coaches. She would find a way to invite them to the house. A few beers. Nothing obvious. Just a warm evening and a charming hostess, and we'll see how it develops. She smiled into the darkness.

A few inches away, Mark also pretended to sleep. But his imagination was alive with images of his wife with the new coaches ,He pictured Rick's and Ted's hungry eyes on his wife. And instead of jealousy, he felt a dark thrill. Finally, his Lisa became the bitch just as he wanted to see her. He couldn't wait to see what she would do next

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

But both of them smiled in the dark, counting down the hours until the game continued.