“Sounds like a great gig,” I tell my friend, pulling my mind away from his sister and back to our conversation. “And I’ll admit, it’d be pretty sweet having you here.”
Alex grins. “Agreed.” He sighs and leans his head back on the couch. “I love working at Notre Dame, but I’m too far away. If I don’t get this job, I think I’ll keep looking. I want to be closer to Ash, and you. I’ve got friends in South Bend, but it’s not the same. Hell, even my parents said they’re considering selling their place and moving this way.”
I glance over, noticing the stress lines around his eyes for the first time. He looks as tired as Ashtyn does. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “A year or two. Even before she got pregnant by some fucking loser. He probably doesn’t even have a decent job. Why else would he not be here, supporting his kid?”
I swallow hard. Yeah, this conversation is coming to a head and isn’t going to be easy. Probably one of the hardest I’ve ever faced. Even when I told my mom to stop reading the tabloid stories on me. They’re always based on perception, not fact, and the photos don’t help either. The assholes who follow me around have an uncanny ability to catch me at the most inopportune time.
Like the time I was at a club, chatting with one woman. Her drunk friends came up and all fell in my lap at the exact moment the one I was talking to shoves her tongue down my throat. The image made it look like I was having a fivesome right there in the VIP lounge. The headline read “Playboy QB Took Group Home Last Night.”
Or what about the time a woman with a questionable night job was leaving my building in the wee hours of the morning. Not from my penthouse, mind you. Yet, she stood on the sidewalk and talked about everything but my shoe size. My mom about died when she read the “Playboy QB Pays Top Dollar Call Girls” headline. There’s nothing worse than your mom calling, begging you to stop paying for sex like Charlie Sheen.
“I don’t know, man. I guess…maybe he has a reason?”
“What kind of reason keeps you away from your responsibilities? Did he move to Timbuktu?”
I can tell he’s getting irritated, and the last thing I want to do is piss him off by defending…well, me. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Alex. I’m just saying maybe there’s a reason, like, he doesn’t know?”
There. I said it.
Alex blows out a big breath that comes out a snort. “So now it’s Ashtyn’s fault for not telling him?”
I hold my hands up in surrender. This is going wrong, fast. “I’m not saying it’s her fault at all. I guess I’m just saying there’s more to the story than what we know, and she isn’t exactly talking. So, don’t get all worked up if you don’t know all the facts.”
Oh, I can feel his eyes glaring at me. Alex is super protective of his family, especially his twin sister. Always has been. One time in college, someone kept commenting about her to get a rise out of him while we were drinking, and Alex ended up punching the guy. We all learned real quick not to talk about his sister, even if we were teasing.
He sighs. “I guess you’re right.” Even though he agrees, I can tell he doesn’t exactly mean it. His face is hard and his eyes narrow, but the conversation is closed. He’s just done talking about it. For now.
I catch movement in the hallway and see Ashtyn slipping across to her bedroom, baby in her arms. I almost jump up and rush to help, but that’ll be too obvious to Alex. Instead, I sit in the chair and wait for her to join us. She’s there a few minutes later, yawning.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” I say the moment she steps into the room.
Ashtyn’s eyes narrow. “I’m not going to be able to take naps during the day when I return to work.”
“True, but that’s still weeks away, right? You might as well crash now while Row does.” I throw in a shrug, so she knows it’s just a suggestion and not an order.
“I agree, Ash. Tate and I will listen for Little Man,” Alex says, stretching out even more on the couch.
She yawns again. “But you’re only here for a couple of days.”
“Yeah, but I’m not leaving yet. Go take a nap. I’ll plan dinner,” her brother says.
“You don’t have to do that,” she argues.
“I do. Tate and I will grill something.”
She looks my way, one eyebrow raised in question. “You’re staying?”
“I have nowhere else to be,” I tell her casually, crossing my ankles and leaning back in the chair.
“Great,” she mumbles, just loud enough for me to hear. “I guess I could go lie down for a bit. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Go, Ash,” Alex insists, and I’m grateful. She needs some rest.
“Fine, but just for a little bit. I want to hear all about your interview,” Ashtyn vows, as she gets up and shuffles back to her bedroom.
Alex and I are both quiet until we hear the door click shut. “You staying for dinner?” he asks, eyes on whatever is on television.
“Yep.” My answer is immediate.
He looks my way but doesn’t say anything else. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
We watch some car program for about thirty minutes before his phone rings. Alex pulls it from his pocket and sits up straight when he sees the screen. “It’s Roger,” he says, referring to the VP of Operations of the St. Louis Fire. “Hello?”
They talk for a few seconds before Alex starts to pace. “Tonight? Oh, uh, I’m not sure,” he stammers, his eyes wide as he glances my way. Alex covers the phone and whispers, “Roger says the GM wants to meet with me tonight for dinner.”
“Go!”
“But what about Ash?”
“I’ll help,” I insist, realizing instantly how much I mean it.
Alex gives me a look, almost as if he’s not sure he believes me, and to be honest, a year or two ago, I probably wouldn’t have believed me either. Unless it’s about football, I’ve always been a little fluid when it comes to maintaining my commitments. There’s always another party or restaurant to be seen at.
“Seriously. The fact the GM wants to meet with you is great news, Alex.”
My words register as Alex goes back to his phone. “Yes, sir, I’m here, sorry. I’d love to meet you all for dinner. Six o’clock at O’Reilly’s? Yes, I’ll find it. Thank you, sir. I look forward to meeting everyone.” Then he hangs up the phone.
“Holy shit, man. The GM wants to meet me for dinner. This is huge.”
“It is,” I confirm.
“And you don’t mind hanging out here for a bit? I mean, I’m sure Ash would be fine, but I hate I just told her I’d make dinner, and now I’m going to bail.”
“First off, you know she’d understand, but second, I don’t mind at all.” Actually, I’m looking forward to it, but I won’t be telling him that.
“Well, if you don’t mind. Damn, I should head back to the hotel and shower. After dinner, I’ll come back here and relieve you. I’m sure you have plans later,” he says, grabbing his keys off the table.