With a grin, Morgan pushes my drink back toward me. “Drink up, girl. Find a little courage and maybe you’ll find the love of your life, too.”
Unable to help but laugh, I pick up my drink and down it, letting the flush of alcohol warm me through—though it doesn’t compare at all to the warmth I feel in Jake’s presence. Thinking of him, I grab my phone and start crafting a text while the other two girls lean over my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you might be dating an NFL player!” Chloe gushes. “That’s so crazy. What position does he play?”
“Tight end,” I reply casually, trying not to get ahead of myself as I hit send on the text.
It’s hard to imagine Jake will have time for an event like this, and I sort of feel guilty even asking knowing what’s already on his plate.
Fortunately, Morgan always knows how to lighten the mood.
“So, tell us, Stacy, how tight is his end?” she asks with a giggle as we order another round of drinks and laugh together until my sides ache.
If nothing else comes of this, at least I know I’ll always have these two on my side.
Chapter 15
Jake
It’s taken me all of ten seconds to text back an earnest Yes! to Stacy’s text inviting me to some event.
Frankly, I barely read the message further than her request for me to attend with her. I didn't even check my calendar. If she needs me to be somewhere, I’m there.
After our discussion at my place I know I have no room for error with her. But I think she’ll be pleasantly surprised. I’ve made some big changes in my life. Changes that were long overdue.
I’ve already started reworking my practice schedule with Coach so I can be there for Ryan’s soccer games and have more time dedicated just to being with the six-year-old.
I’m currently stuck at a late Friday practice and have only just a second on the sideline but I’m dedicating all of it to Stacy. Normally, I don’t check my messages during practice, not since last year anyway, but my heart leapt when I heard the phone buzz, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it was Stacy—and I was right.
Now Coach is shouting at me from the sideline to resume my drills with the rest of the team, and I will, but not before I quickly fire off my own text inviting Stacy over for dinner at my place on Monday night. It’s the only day I don’t have practice, and I need plenty of time to make sure everything is perfect.
Now that Monday has arrived however, I feel even less prepared than I did before I stocked the shelves and made sure the pantry had everything a six-year-old and an adult man could want.
We have everything from fun snacks to canned goods to protein powder. I organized it too, placing the cookies and sweets up high so they weren’t in free range of the kiddo and healthy snacks on the bottom rack. Ryan still has to ask permission before diving into the pantry, but at least the food right in front of his face is nutritious.
The organization of the pantry was something I picked up from the stack of half-read parenting magazines on the coffee table. I’m making my way through the magazines and books, highlighting important information and earmarking pages. But I have other pressing research to do.
I’m slightly terrified to meet Stacy’s friends at the charity event.
I know nothing about them other than the small things she mentions every now and then. She clearly adores the two girls who were her roommates, and I want them to adore me too. I know that’s important to Stacy. I know one of the girls is dating Donovan Dunn, whose name I’ve heard a thousand times on television and radio. He’s some huge business mogul running one of the most esteemed advertising firms in the country. It’s his company hosting the event that we’re going to.
I take a deep breath and try to remind myself that these girls, if they’re anywhere near as remarkable as Stacy, are going to be awesome. I'm sure Stacy would only surround herself with people who are just as kind and special as she is. Besides, I thrive under pressure. My entire career feeds off that.
This will be no different than getting ready for a big game. I’ll jog a bit beforehand to clear my mind, do some breathing exercises, and then I’ll charm the pants off everyone at the event. Not literally of course.
I didn't particularly want our first date to be such a public affair, but with Stacy, I’ll take what I can get. It’s also why I organized tonight’s dinner.
I’m hoping it’ll take some of the pressure off the charity event. I'm not even sure if she means for us to attend the event as a couple, but I’m optimistic. Hopefully, tonight will give me some more time to feel her out and make my own intentions clear.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m nervous as hell.
My hands are shaking but I’m doing my best to disguise my nerves for Ryan’s sake. He’s having fun helping me prepare. I think it’s important to show the little man the right way to impress a special lady. We’ve even lit candles which flicker along the bar.
I'm not sure how aware the six-year-old is of the intricacies of the evening, but I can tell he wants to impress Stacy, too.
He stands at the sink on a little stepstool covered in tiger stickers, carefully shredding lettuce into a salad spinner. He hates salad, but he’s giving it his all right now.
“Does Stacy even like cocoa vine?” he asks abruptly, turning toward me. The apron I got him matches mine, but his has ‘Little Hartbreaker’ stitched across the chest.
“Coq au vin!” I correct him, even though I have no idea if I'm saying the French phrase right.
It’s one of the highlighted recipes from the cooking magazine I’ve been flipping through over the last few days. I have no clue what I’m doing and the recipe might as well have been written in French just like the name, but I’m trying to show Stacy just how much I want to change and how much effort I’m willing to put in.
The chicken and wine dish is in the oven now, though the smell is kind of strange and I'm not sure how good it’s going to be.
“That’s what I said,” Ryan giggles. “Cocoa vine!”
When the doorbell rings, the little boy gives a squeal and leaps off the stool.
“I’ll get it!” he cries, rushing over to swing open the door before I can even take a step in that direction.
“Hi, Stacy!” he gushes. “We’re cooking!”
“I can smell it from the hall! You guys must be working hard!”
“We’ve been in the kitchen all day,” he accentuates the words with a roll of his eyes and pads after Stacy as she walks in. She sets down her bag and slides onto a barstool, inhaling the fragrance of chopped veggies and cooking chicken.
“Hey,” I say softly. I'm not sure if she’ll let me walk over and hug her so I just stand by the stove awkwardly instead.
“Hey, yourself,” she answers with a faint smile.
Her cheeks are rosy and I'm so happy just to see her again that my heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest. Her expression, however, isn’t quite what I would’ve expected. Her nose crinkles, head tilting.
I'm glad now I didn't try to hug her.
“Um . . . Jake, is it supposed to be smoking like that?” she asks, nodding her head toward the oven behind me.