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was sitting in a television studio, with Lauryn on his arm, pretending that he knew what was going on with his wedding plans.
    â€œAnd Maurice and I knew we’d get married,” Lauryn said as she hammed it up for the camera. “It was magic at Johnson C. Smith.”
    Maurice nodded like a good lapdog.
    â€œMo, is the wedding going to be a distraction during the playoffs?” the reporter asked.
    â€œNo. I love Lauryn, and she understands that right now I have to concentrate on making it to the Super Bowl,” replied Maurice. “I’m going to leave the wedding planning in her capable hands.”
    â€œYes,” Lauryn said. “I don’t want the fans mad at me. Besides, I want my man to be victorious in February.”
    â€œWhen’s the wedding going to be?” the reporter asked.
    â€œWhen else? Valentine’s Day,” Lauryn said.
    Thanks for telling me, Maurice thought as he smiled for the cameras.
    When the interview was over, he turned to Lauryn and shook his head.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œWhy are we doing this?”
    â€œDoing what? Getting married?”
    â€œTurning it into a media spectacle? A wedding is supposed to be between a man and woman, not a man, a woman, and the media.”
    Lauryn stroked his cheek. “But you’re famous, and I want all of those women to know that you’re mine.”
    Maurice headed out the door, with Lauryn on his heels. “Baby,” she said. “Are you mad?”
    He turned around and looked at her. She had a look of innocence on her face, and it melted his heart. “Just tired. This is my day off, remember.”
    She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know. I’ll make it up to you when we get home. I love you.”
    â€œLove you, too,” he replied, kissing her on the cheek.
    As they drove home, Maurice had to question his sanity. Everyone had told him that Lauryn was a gold digger. He’d heard those sorts of things about her since they were in college.
    College. Kenya. How was Kenya? He hadn’t talked to her in nine years, and when he went home to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, he’d driven by her parents’ house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And if he had seen her, what would he have said to her? She wouldn’t accept his apology nine years ago. Would she now?
    â€œMaurice! The light is red!” Lauryn shouted, interrupting his thoughts.
    â€œSorry.” He slowed the car so that he wouldn’t blow through the light.
    â€œMaybe I need to run you a bath and let you relax while I hang out with Mya for a while.”
    â€œIf you want to. I’ll probably study some film and sleep. Oh, Homer and his girl want us to have dinner with them tonight at Morton’s. Cool?”
    â€œAll right,” she said flatly. “What’s this girl’s name?”
    â€œI don’t know. Just try to be nice.”
    â€œThat’s all I can do. Try,” she said as he pulled into driveway of their home.
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    Moments after entering the house, Maurice headed for the marble spa tub in his master bathroom, and Lauryn grabbed the phone.
    â€œMya,” she said. “We need to talk. Why don’t I come over and we have lunch?”
    â€œDon’t you have another news show to do?” asked Mya.
    â€œYou can’t blame me for what I’m doing. Do you know how long Mo and I have been together?”
    â€œBut does he know what you’re hiding?”
    â€œI’m not hiding anything.”
    â€œThere’s no need for us to meet for lunch, because I’ll see you at dinner,” Mya revealed.
    â€œDinner?”
    â€œYes, I’ve decided to go after some NFL money, too. It just so happens that he’s Mo’s best friend.”
    â€œDon’t do this, Mya.”
    â€œI’m just following your lead. You can’t have it both ways, do as I say and not as I do.”
    The dial tone sounded in