Page 3 of The Comeback

Jenna: This guest is a big deal. It’s Gabriella’s wedding planner, and Gabriella booked the house for the whole summer and is paying a bonus because of the length. She’s saving me $$$ in cleaning fees. Plus, it’s Gabriella. Her wedding planner deserves the best. What if we leave it overnight and it’s actually a big deal?? You know I’d go myself if I was in town.

I scoff at rolling out the red carpet for the high-priced wedding planner that my teammate and best friend, Colby’s, fiancé is flying in. Two months before the wedding, no less, to handle what? I can’t begin to guess. If the guy is going to get married in the middle of the season, he should have the decency to elope rather than distract us from football with a huge social event.

I jerk as a horn honks behind me, and I creep up a few car lengths before we’re stopped again. On days like today, the fact that I live an hour out of Houston makes me wish I’d chosen a house a lot closer. But once I’m sitting on my back deck, relaxing to the sound of Galveston Bay in the background, I’ll forget my frustration.

I dictate a text back to Jenna, keeping a closer eye on traffic as things start to move a little more—albeit still at a snail’s pace.

Jett: Alright, alright.

I knew I was giving in anyway. No reason to make Jenna worry. Another text comes in just as my message sends, one from my agent, Claire.

Claire: I’ve got a few options for making your social media more visible. Call me when you have a minute tonight.

I let out an audible groan. That’s the last thing I want to do when I’m trying to relax after a grueling day, so I dictate a response right away to nip this in the bud.

Jett: I like my privacy, ma’am. Leave me in peace.

I’m putting my foot down. I don’t have time for posting all the time to social media—nor do I really want to. People are already in my business way too much, thanks to my starting quarterback position with the Pumas. I don’t want to add to that or give the impression that people have permission to be nosy about my private life. But Claire is crafting an image, as she likes to remind me.

Claire: You’re getting a rep for being a grumpy recluse.

Jett: I thought broody guys were sexy.

Claire: I’m going for likable and charming and ripe for funny insurance ads and huge popularity.

I’ll have to shut this down in a phone call, which I don’t want to have right now, so I pretend to cave. A little.

Jett: I’ll think about it.

I don’t want to add “try to be more likable” to the list of things that need to happen this season. It’s too crowded with football—and a wedding, of course. Maybe if I post some smiling pictures on Instagram, Claire will ease up.

Traffic is too slow for my liking, so I ask my phone if I have any new messages, and it reads me one from Jenna.

Jenna: You’re amazing!

I sigh and then chuckle to myself.

It’s as though I’m getting divine thanks as well—traffic opens up and I’m back up to regular speed within a minute. It doesn’t stop me from dictating another text.

Jett: You owe me.

CHAPTER 3

AVA

I draw in a long, deep breath as I step out onto the deck of my vacation rental. I resisted when Gabriella wanted to bring me into town so early, but my friend was right that I needed a vacation. Not that this fits vacation criteria, really, but with less on my plate and my focus on Gabriella’s wedding, it’s enough of a break for me. Plus she made it easier to say yes in the end by arranging everything for my stay, including messaging the host to confirm that I could check in tonight instead of tomorrow after my flight got changed unexpectedly.

Gabriella wanted me to stay in Houston with her tonight, but I need time to center before I face her and all the anxious feelings planning her wedding has brought up for me, a tightness in my chest I can’t quite get rid of. Her wedding is important. The former Miss Texas has big plans, and while it will be personal, it’s also going to be the start of her five-year plan to run for a senate seat for Texas. I have to admit that one of the reasons I finally ended up agreeing to come so early is so I can make sure everything goes off without a hitch and so I can be here personally to oversee things to make it perfect.

The idea that the real reason I’m doing this for Gabriella is selfish wiggles at the back of my brain. I swore off doing events for friends a couple of years ago. I know how that can go sideways and ruin relationships. And still I said yes to Gabriella, one of my closest friends. Because her wedding is more than just a wedding. It’s a hint of the fundraisers and dinners and galas I used to plan, the ones I really excelled at. But it’s so complicated. My love for those events is too tied up in my biggest failure as an event planner.

I drop into a cozy deck chair, letting the slight breeze blow away the tension from the long flight and a long day and thoughts I don’t want to tackle right now. Like the fact that Gabriella’s wedding is putting me in the spotlight and I’m nervous about it. I don’t browse social media a lot unless it’s for work, but I’ve already seen a few posts about that wedding that are low-key questioning having me plan such a high-profile wedding given my past mistakes. I keep telling myself the wedding is going to be perfect and I won’t find myself in the middle of a social media storm … again.

Noises from inside the house make me sit up straight and scowl. Did the host not realize they already had someone booked for tonight when they let me come early? As someone who’s seen her fair share of accidental double-bookings for events, I wouldn’t be surprised.

I lean sideways in the chair, turning to see through the sliding glass door that leads back into the house. Am I imagining the flicker of a shadow in the hallway?

I pull out my phone from my pocket and place my fingers on the side buttons, just in case, ready to call emergency services with the flick of my fingers. I stand now and move closer to the door, wanting to be sure I’m alone but afraid to go inside. I don’t see anything, but my heart pounds hard enough that I reach up and put my hand over it.

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