Page 40 of A Whole New Play

I tell Carter I’ll be there as soon as I can, to which he responds:

Thank you.

“Are you done being rude?”

I look up from the phone and am greeted by my mom’s scowl.

“Sorry. It was work.”

My words only make her scowl deepen. “Work,” she scoffs. “Indeed.”

I bite my tongue and resume eating my meal in child-sized bites to avoid yet another criticism from my mother.

The rest of the meal passes by at a torturously slow pace. When it finally ends and I kiss my mother’s cheek goodbye, I immediately feel the burden of her disapproval lift when she turns on her designer heels and strides over to the valet to retrieve her car.

I walk the two blocks to reach the free parking garage located near Dallas’s community center, all the while wondering what newest drama could be brewing between Carter and his ex and mentally kicking myself for caring more than I should.

Laura is his ex, but she’s also the mother of his children. They may not get along now, but at one point they were a happy family. I’ve seen the pictures. Though, I think it’s important to note they were on a random website and not on Carter’s social media.

My boss had accepted my follow request, but he hasn’t brought it up to me. Just like I haven’t brought up the fact he followed me back.

Did Carter scroll through my profile to view pictures that dated to my high school days like I did on his?

Did he feel annoyed and jealous when he saw a photo of me and another guy the way I did when I found that family photo in that feature in NFL Magazine after his rookie season?

I hated how seeing that picture made me feel.

Not just because those feelings are hard to stomach, but because I have no right to feel that way.

Carter Jones is not mine to feel jealous of. He’s my boss. Not my boyfriend.

I have a good thing going with this nanny gig, and for the first time since I was a child who didn’t let her mother’s judgment sway every decision she made for herself, I’m happy.

I’d be a fool to do something to mess this up… like catch feelings for my devastatingly handsome boss.

Maybe if I repeat those words enough, I’ll finally be able to get it through my stubborn head and stop the nightly fantasies about what being with Carter Jones would look like.

He’s not for me, and I’m not for him.

It’s about time I accept it.

11

CARTER

“Take a deep breath, son. You knew this was a possibility.”

I try to take my dad’s advice and breathe in through my nose and out my mouth, but it does little to quiet the rage flowing through my veins.

My hands are clenched in fists, pressed into my thighs as I stare out the windshield of his pickup truck as we drive through Dallas, on our way back to Rose Hill.

Thank God I asked him to come with me to the Rough Riders facility after I was summoned for an unscheduled meeting after reviewing the game film this morning.

Mom was scheduled to volunteer at the local clinic and was unable to keep watching the kids past noon. That’s the only reason I texted Valerie.

After sitting through the meeting, I’m grateful she agreed to watch the twins so Dad could be by my side.

I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep my composure without his help. He literally clasped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed to keep me seated when the team’s PR rep began digging for details about my personal life.

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