“He wasn’t happy. Actually, he was really angry with me, but we vowed to be friends. That slowly dwindled over the years and now we barely talk. Really just on each other’s birthdays. We’re cordial toward each other, but I doubt he’d want to see me. I didn’t really give him a proper goodbye before he left school after being drafted. It was just too hard to see him again.” I tug on a few strands of my hair. “And I don’t think I can see him, even now. I barely made it through school after he left, constantly being reminded of what we had. It’s why I don’t watch the games.”
“Wow.” Cora practically drains her margarita. “When I called for a girls’ night, I wasn’t expecting you to say you once dated the Knox Gentry. I have so many questions, but out of respect, I’m keeping my lips sealed.”
Good, because I think she’d be horrified to learn that despite being together for many months, Knox and I never actually had sex. And I can say to this day, that is one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
That stupid freaking bet.
The most we ever did was . . . wet-hump? If that’s what you want to call it and to date—this is going to sound really pathetic—that’s the best orgasm I’ve ever had.
So, so pathetic.
But it was with Knox, and that’s what made it different. Everything with him was different, and it’s the exact reason I can’t see him, why I can’t be in his presence. Not now, not when I’m still not over the man eight years later. I tried. I tried to move on, and for a while, I was happy with Harvey, I guess. But Knox was simply too good and had ticked every single box of what I wanted in a man. He’d loved me. I know that. But at times, it's been hard to believe when I’ve seen who he’s dated over the years.
“He’s not going to be there, is he?”
“No clue. They usually send relief pitchers to these things, you know? Doubtful.”
I sure hope she’s right.
“Where are you right now?” Dottie asks over the phone.
“In the bathroom,” I whisper. “I can’t do this, Dottie. I seriously feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“You don’t know if he’s going to be there. What did the media person say?”
“She wasn’t sure who was picked to join the ceremony and read to the kids.”
Dottie grumbles. “See, that’s just irresponsible business. She should know exactly who’s going to show up and at what time. I would never hire her.” She’s one hell of a ruthless businesswoman, which is why she’s one of the wealthiest women in Chicago. Her fortune stems from the countless hours she’s put into the business since she graduated, not because of her dad. “Just remember what Cora said; they send the lemons to these events while the starters prep for the games. They have a home game tonight, so there’s no way he’ll be at your school.”
“What about Carson?” I ask, knowing fully well the dynamic duo who once played together in college now share the middle positions on a major league field.
“Same thing. He’s a starter, he won’t be there.”
“And what about the pictures that will be taken? What if Knox sees them when they’re blasted all over the place?”
“Hmm . . .” Dottie pauses. “Well, maybe you substitute Cora for the pictures. She has a great smile, and she was the one who applied.”
“True. Which means, I don’t have to be here. I can go home, right?”
“You know that’s not an option. You already asked the principal.”
I did. I’m not ashamed of it.
“I know. Ugh.” I shake my whole body, loosening my limbs that seem to be tensing tighter and tighter by the second. “Okay, I can do this. He’s not going to show up, Cora will be in the pictures, everything is going to be okay.”
“Exactly, everything will be fine.”
With that, I exit the stall I hid myself in and take one last look at myself in the mirror. I was hoping and praying all morning I wouldn’t see him, but just in the off chance he does show up, I’ve decked out in my slimmest black wrap dress, red heels, and matching red lipstick. It’s only natural to want to look good for an ex.
I make it out to the library in time for everyone to show up. It’s right before lunchtime, Lindsay’s class was the lucky class to be chosen—hmm, how did that happen?—and the team’s social media specialists come flooding in, along with some very tall, very built players.
Standing next to Cora, my breath heavy in my chest, I scan the faces of the guys walking in as the kids cheer. Lindsay walks up next to me and gently nudges my shoulder, letting me know she’s here for me.
Three guys, and they’re men I don’t know.
Thank. Fuck.
From the side of her mouth, Lindsay says, “See, relief pitchers and second-string, so you have nothing to worry about.”
She’s right, I have nothing to worry about. I relax and put on a smile rather than the tense crazy look I’m sure I was holding. We watch as the kids clap and cheer, some reaching out for high fives. The guys are great with the kids, looking larger than life in their jerseys and finely tailored jeans.
“Miss Ealson, we want to formally thank you for showing interest in our program,” one of the ladies says, and for the life of me I can’t remember her name.
“Oh, please, don’t thank me. This was all Cora. She applied and made this happen.” I pull Cora next to me just as a flash of white comes trotting through the door.
And my heart stops beating.
Pushing his hand through his hair, looking like he just ran from the parking lot to the library, Knox saddles up next to his teammates and mutters, “Sorry, I got held up.”
The kids scream in excitement, calling out to Knox who plasters on his charming smile and waves to all of them.
Frozen in place, unable to breathe, my heart pounding in my throat, I stare and watch as his eyes scan the library slowly, taking it all in until he makes eye contact with me.
And that’s when every ounce of composure and strength shatters.
From one shocked look.
Fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Two
KNOX
“What’s up, Roark?” I say into my phone. My agent has the worst timing ever. “I have a library event to get to.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to quickly discuss your upcoming contract. They want eight years for two hundred sixty million.”
“You know I don’t care about this shit.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I seriously hate all of this. Can’t you just figure it out and let me know when all is said and done?”
He chuckles before saying, “I think you’re the first player to ever say that.”
“I want to play ball in Chicago, that’s all. I want the Bobcats to be the only team I play for, so can you make that happen?”
“Aye,” he says in his Irish lilt. “It’s why you hired me. I’ll hit you up when we have the final offer.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up, pocket my phone, and quickly exit my car. I’m late, I know I am, but I also didn’t want to have that conversation in public, nor could I ignore it.