Page 61 of The Play

“Really, catastrophically bad, yes. I don’t think she’s connected us, back in college, yet. It’s not a story if she can’t prove we knew each other.”

“Right,” Nicole agreed, nodding. “But you think she will.”

There was a reason he’d kept her on, even after buying the team. She’d done good work when the prior owners had given her nothing to work with.

She was smart and capable, but even she had limits, and if this story blew up, there was nothing they could do to make it look less terrible.

“She’s tenacious and very good at her job,” Grant said. “She’ll find it, if there’s proof to find.”

Nicole let out a hard breath. “But we have time, then.”

“Maybe. She said she wasn’t the only one.”

“Just the only journalist serious enough to do their homework first, before publishing.” Nicole paused. “So we should brace for the worst, then. A lot of rumors and gossip—possibly followed by a factual confirmation of everything.”

She’d switched from disbelief and panic straight to business.

Another reason he’d kept her.

“It’s a possibility,” Grant said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

And then, if this whole conversation weren’t humiliating enough, Nicole asked, “I need to know, are you and Deacon involved?”

Of course she did. She couldn’t do her job to the best of her ability if she didn’t know the whole story.

Grant didn’t know if it was more embarrassing that he needed to say no—or that he’d done all this, bought a whole fucking football team, and then done nothing about it.

“No, we’re, uh . . .still friends. Just friends.”

Nicole’s expression turned sympathetic. “Nothing’s happened?”

He heard what she wasn’t saying out loud: you bought a whole goddamn football team, valued at nearly a billion dollars, and you didn’t even get a date?

“Well, not nothing but it’s not happening now.”

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “Not nothing?”

“Please don’t start,” Grant said, with an eye roll.

“I’m just saying,” Nicole said, “and forgive me if this is way overstepping my bounds, but everyone sees the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. Why isn’t anything happening now?”

“Because it’s inappropriate. We knew it was and it got out of hand, uh, once. Twice. And don’t worry. Whatever happened, it was . . .it was minor.” It was life-changing, anyway, and I’m gonna be dreaming about it for the rest of my life. “It was just a . . .” Grant swallowed hard. “It was just a kiss. Two kisses. And nobody will know. Nobody does know. Except uh, Darcy. She walked in on us, once.”

“Ah.” There was a wealth of meaning in that one word.

Grant wanted to sink through the elevator floor and die—and yet he knew this would be nothing compared to how it would feel if the whole world found out.

The elevator doors opened. “You should tell him,” Nicole said as they exited.

“What?” Grant couldn’t believe what she was suggesting.

“No, no, not that. Though I suppose if everyone finds out, it doesn’t matter what you do then. We might even be able to spin it as like some super romantic Romeo and Juliet kind of shit. Star-crossed lovers, forbidden romance, all that jazz. No, but what I mean is that Deacon shouldn’t find out about the email from ESPN or even someone else on the team. You should be the one to tell him.”

“Seriously?” Grant was incredulous.

“I know, it’s . . .uh . . .maybe embarrassing,” Nicole said, both her face and her voice softening, as she turned to him. “But wouldn’t it be better coming from you than from someone else?”

“You want me to tell Deacon Harris I bought this football team for him.”

---