Page 29 of Game Day

Nova: Tomorrow I’m going for a fitting, but I was planning to drop by the venue after to go over logistics at 2p.m. Want to come with?

My realtor sent a new list of prospective properties this morning on my way to practice, including one that looks promising. But, he said we can’t get in to see it until tomorrow afternoon.

Clay: I’ve got a conflict after lunch. I could be there closer to four?

Dots appear, then stop.

Nova: Don’t worry about it. I've got it under control.

I frown. She’s got it under control like it’s not important? Or like she doesn’t want me to show at all?

Suddenly I’m second guessing my plans.

"I know that look," Miles calls. "That's a girl-problem look."

Rookie snorts. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts.”

"We’re not. Everything's fine."

The guys are at my shoulders reading the screen before I can think to hide it.

“See?” I say, nodding to the text. “She says it’s fine.”

Rookie covers his face with a hand. Miles coughs, shaking his head.

“Sure it’s fine, bro.”

* * *

NOVA

"Is it poisoned?”

I lift my head, raising a brow at Mari across the table in my studio downtown.

"Your coffee." She nods toward my cup. “You’ve barely taken a sip.”

"Not unless Clay's mother made it for me,” I grumble.

We're reviewing the flower arrangements for the wedding sent over by the planner. I wanted simple, but she suggested decorating the altar and lining the aisle in addition to a large bouquet for me.

Around us are stacks of fresh canvases, plus a few pieces that are in between homes.

“It can’t be that bad,” Mari says.

“Sandy hates me.” I shove a piece of hair out of my face.

Mari leans on one elbow, frowning. “She doesn’t know you.”

I take a long drink of coffee, which is now closer to iced than warm. “I’m trying,” I say after I fill her in on last night’s dinner from hell. “This morning, I texted to ask if I could show her around Denver. I sent two cases of sparkling water to her hotel. Nothing. Clay said his dad will work while he’s here, but so far, his mom’s main job is avoiding me.”

“It’s probably natural that she’s having a hard time letting go of her only son.”

I spread my hands. “Letting go?! It’s not as if I’m taking him anywhere.”

Mari’s lips twitch. “You were never this tidy growing up,” she comments as she catches me looking at one of the stacks.

“It’s called inventory,” I inform her.

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