Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Just as I was gearing up to maybe ask if she wanted to make a go of things after training camp, to date for real when I return…Boom.
She drops the mic on her whole boss-lady-moving-on soliloquy.
More power to her and blah, blah, blah. But there’s no room for romance in her work-all-day/be-single-all-night plans.
That song she blasted was an exclamation point punctuating her speech about business and new life stages and moving the fuck on.
“Ooh! Look at that one!” Tilly hoots. I blink, then reconnect with the game in time to see her green ball roll through an arch as she makes her shot.
“You go, Aunt Tilly!” Ellie shouts, then she nudges me, giving me a bright smile. “Good one, right?”
“Yeah, great,” I mutter.
She tilts her head, looks at me, clearly worried. “Are you okay?” she whispers. She sounds just like a girlfriend when her boyfriend’s being a moody jerk at a party.
Well, the last part is true.
“I’m fine,” I mumble, but I can’t shake my attitude.
“You don’t seem like yourself,” she says, trying again in a low voice.
“I’m fine,” I repeat.
She tugs gently on my forearm, guiding me away from the game, toward the side of the yard. I follow her because of course I follow her. I’d fucking follow her anywhere. And that’s the goddamn problem.
I’d chase her, I’d beg her, I’d go wherever she went.
I’m crazy for her, but she’s already gone, belting out I don’t need anyone songs and celebrating her romance-free life.
And I can’t, I just fucking can’t, ruin shit for her by telling her I fell for her in only four nights.
I can’t stand to hear her say, Oh Gabe, that’s nice and all, but I came to Los Angeles to be free.
So here at the edge of the lawn, I just stare past her.
She tries to catch my eye, angling her chin just so, to get me to look at her. “Are you sure? Because you don’t seem okay.”
Gritting my teeth, I shovel a hand through my hair. I feel like a bomb’s ticking in my chest.
No, Ellie, I’m not okay. I’m not okay at all because I want to break our deal in spectacular fashion. I want to take you into my arms and smother you in kisses and keep you for all the nights.
But you want to just…move on.
And if I stay outside at the party with her, I’ll blurt out all these painful feelings that are clawing at me.
Feelings that she doesn’t have the time or space for.
I thrust my mallet at her, and she takes it automatically. “Sorry, sweetheart. My agent called earlier, and I’ve got some stuff on my mind about the football season. It’s nothing. But I’m going to take a walk and clear my head.”
She frowns. “Oh.” Then she clears her expression, putting on a small smile. She’s a good actress, but I’m pretty sure it’s fake—like this whole week has been. “I’ll be here,” she says.
I can barely hear her because I’m already walking away.
Thirty minutes later, I’m a little less annoyed thanks to some air and a walk, but I’m not any happier. Hell, I’m both sadder and angrier, mostly at myself for falling for a woman who’s so clearly unavailable.
Who told me she was unavailable.
But my stew of feelings doesn’t matter. This is not my birthday. This is not my party. I need to get my act together so I can handle the rest of the night.
When I trudge up the steps to Ellie’s parents’ home and push open the door, I catch sight of Ellie pacing in the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear, her back to me.
“Great. Email me the details,” she says.
There’s a pause.
“Yes, Sidney, I think it can help other women learn from my experiences too,” she says.
She’s talking to the producer of that documentary about her ex, and my frustration ramps up again.
Then she says goodbye and turns down the hall. “I said yes to the interview, Mom.”
Like James Bond, I creep across the hardwood and listen in to her private conversation with her mother. It’s like sticking my finger in a fire, but I do it anyway. I need to know where she’s at. I want to be certain that my instincts in the car were right.
“Are you sure, sweetie?”
“Absolutely. I was just protecting myself when they first called. Not dealing with the past. But this is how I can put it behind me. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out this past week. How to put it behind me. And this will give me some closure.”
“Then I support you,” her mom says.
“Thanks, Mom. These last few days have given me a lot of clarity.”
That seals the deal. This last week was everything we’d agreed it would be—a week and nothing more. I’m the fool who got caught up in her.