Page 47 of Fake Out

Smiling to myself, I get into my car and head out of the parking garage. I’m barely on the road for a minute before my phone rings.

My heart jumps at the unknown number — a San Antonio one.

“This is Marissa,” I answer.

“Marissa,” a man’s voice purrs. “This is Evan. From the San Antonio?—”

“Yes!” I nearly bounce in my seat from excitement. “It’s good to hear from you. How are you?”

“Good, good. Listen, I didn’t want to keep you hanging. I don’t have an answer yet about Charlie, but it’s looking good. We’re pushing for him. The owners just need a little extra encouragement.”

My heart flutters from a mix of excitement and anxiety. “Sure. Is there anything I can do to help convince them?”

“No, but I’m sure I can win them over. Charlie is something special, and I saw that he meant what he said. He’s ready to commit. Sometimes we need to hit rock bottom to reach our highest peak, and I can tell that’s where he’s at.”

Warmth spreads through me. “Yeah, he is. Thanks so much, Evan.”

“You got it. Take care. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Thank you. You too.” I hang up, feeling wired from it all.

Evan seems convinced that he can get Charlie on the team, but it’s not lost on me that this is the only call we’ve received from any reps since returning to Chicago. If Charlie doesn’t sign with San Antonio, we’re back to square one.

Or maybe that’s it. Maybe his career is completely over.

And mine with it.

I pull into his driveway feeling several hundred pounds heavier.

The porch light flickers on as I cut the engine and step out of the car. With a sigh, I walk up to Charlie’s door, my footsteps echoing back at me in the quiet neighborhood.

Before I can knock, he has the door open. He’s smiling at me, wearing his apron over a bare chest and jeans.

“You made it,” he says.

I chuckle, though I’m aware there’s not a lot of heart in it. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“No, I thought you would. It’s still exciting, though.” He pulls me in for a soft, warm kiss.

Yes, it is still exciting. Every time I look at him, I feel like I’m walking on air. The last two weeks have been some of the best of my life.

Pulling back, I study his face. “How are you?”

“Good. Bored, though. I feel like I’m going stir crazy.”

He doesn’t voice it, but I see the question in his eyes: have I heard from anyone yet?

“Me, too.” I walk into the house and close the door behind us. “Evan from San Antonio just called.”

Charlie freezes, apparently unsure whether he should get his hopes up or not.

His eyes search my face, looking for a clue, a hint of what Evan had to say. The ticking of the wall clock becomes deafening. I take off my coat and hang it on the hook by the door, stalling.

“So?” he prompts, his voice slightly shaky.

“There’s no offer yet, but he’s confident he can convince the team’s owners.”

Charlie runs his palm over his mouth. Clearly, it’s not what he wanted to hear.

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