Noah sighs and then chuckles. “You were drunk when you met her, and I think deep down you remember being angry when all of this happened, so you manifested this issue between the two of you into something that it isn’t. I know you’re worried about Peyton and thinking Autumn is using her, but she’s not. You gotta remember, Peyton is an excellent judge of character, and if she felt Autumn had ulterior motives, she’d keep her at bay.”
“Yeah, Peyton said something similar to me when we had our last session.”
“At what point do you admit you like Autumn?”
I don’t normally blush, but there is definitely a temperature influx happening on my face. “I . . . uh . . .” Noah shows his phone to me. On it is my Twitter feed. Instantly, the heating of the cheeks I thought I might have felt moments ago is back with a vengeance.
“I,” I pause because I don’t have a decent excuse as to why I started sending tweets to Autumn. When I glance at Noah, it’s clear he’s waiting for me to start talking. I sigh heavily and say, “This all started a few nights after I saw her in the park. I’m lying in bed one night, and I hear her voice on the television, so I sort of watch her segment, while I’m scrolling through my Twitter feed, and I happen upon a tweet she reshared from Marchetti. I clicked on her profile and accidentally hit follow.”
“And you can’t unfollow after that?” Noah interjects.
I shake my head slowly. “Nope. I do what any guy who has nothing to lose would do: I start tweeting her about her segment, and man, I’m a fool because I have no idea what I’m saying, but she reshares each one and sends laughing or smiling emojis back.”
“Sounds like you’ve made a connection.”
This time I eye him. “I’m pretty sure she hates me and is just saving face on social media.”
“Why do you think this?”
It takes me a moment to respond. I’m not proud of what I’m about to say, but if he’s asking, maybe that means Autumn hasn’t complained to him or Peyton. “Because when I first met her, I called her weather girl. I know she’s insulted by it, but I haven’t stopped because I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, you are.” Noah sighs and then starts laughing. “If you weren’t going through everything you are, I’d suggest you talk to Autumn. You might find that you like her.”
“I do like her,” I tell him. “That’s the problem. I’ve made such an ass out of myself over the past few weeks, I’ll be lucky if she gives me the time of day. If I were her, I’d hate me.”
“Autumn doesn’t strike me as the type of person to hate anyone.” Noah pauses for a moment and then says, “What about Elena?”
I grimace at the mention of her name. “We haven’t spoken much since my trip to L.A. and when she randomly showed up at the game, but it’s clear she’s moved on. I have it on my to-do list to call the lawyer and get the paperwork finalized. We’ll end up fighting over the kids and alimony, which she’s not entitled to, so it’ll come down to child support. We both want full custody, but I feel like her real motivation is to get more money. The whole thing is very uncomfortable.”
“I can imagine.”
I chuckle at his statement. “No, you can’t. You and Peyton are perfect. You’re like the spec model for marriages.”
Noah doesn’t say anything in return but does crack a smile as he steps up to his ball. He swings through, and that stupid white plastic thing lands right on the green and rolls toward the pin.
“I give up.” I hang my head and walk toward the cart, all while my best friend is laughing behind me.
Noah and I finish our round of golf and head back to our training facility where I make the mistake of going inside to grab a few things from my locker.
“Julius, I’m so happy I’ve caught you. I was about to email you,” Maggie, the general manager’s secretary, says.
“What’s up?” Maggie is one of those people you either love to run into or dread. Sometimes, she’s the bearer of bad news, and you never know what she’s going to say.
“Autumn LaRosa emailed. Your date has been set.”
Part of me is excited by the word date, but the other half of me is dreading what’s coming my way. “And when is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
Maggie nods. “There was a little back and forth about your schedule, but tomorrow seems to work.”
“And what if I have plans?” I ask.
“Change them. I’ll forward Ms. LaRosa’s contact information but expect to meet her outside her apartment in the morning.”
“I don’t even know where she lives,” I state.
“It’ll be in the email,” she says as she walks off.
I stand there, speechless and groaning on the inside. I’m equal parts pissed because I don’t have a say and excited because I like a woman who takes charge of a situation. However, I’m leery because Autumn could make me do anything she wants and there isn’t shit I can say or do about it. I’m at her mercy. The only thing I’m sure of is I won’t have to mow someone’s lawn or pick up anyone’s leaves—unless she has decided to farm my services out.
On my drive home, I think about what I’m going to say to Autumn when I see her. I should apologize for being a complete d-bag when we first met, and I should definitely tell her I’m sorry for calling her weather girl. Although, I do think the nickname is cute.
Every thought I have right now is about Autumn as I head toward the elevator with a smile on my face. I’m curious what she’s going to have me do on our date, and I’ve concluded that I don’t care as long as she’s with me. Of course, the likelihood is I’ll have to do some menial tasks while she sits back and laughs at me. It’s okay. I deserve it.
I’m lost in thought when the elevator door opens back up and someone steps in. The only reason I look up is that there’s a very audible gasp. I glance at the person in front of me, and my smile fades because the first thing that comes to mind is that Autumn is stalking me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I let out a small chuckle, mostly to curb my impending ire. “I live here, so what’s your excuse?”
Autumn’s mouth drops open and then closes quickly. “I live here as well. The fifth floor.”
Unbelievable.
“Penthouse.”
“I guess this makes us neighbors?” Before I can respond, the chime dings, and the number five illuminates. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Autumn says as she starts to step out. She pauses and looks over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you downstairs in the morning, Weather Girl,” I say with a wink.
Thirteen
Autumn
I’m trying not to focus on what my head is screaming while I get ready for my date with Julius. It took me a bit to come up with something I felt would be appropriate for him while getting some humor out of it. I thought about having him stand on the street corner, directing traffic with one of those signs for insurance, or having him dress up as a chicken and dance around Pioneer Square. Neither seemed clever enough for Mr. Cunningham. One thing I knew when I started planning was I wanted him to see me in a different light. He has such a preconceived notion about me that I’m hoping to change his mind.