Page 28 of The Right Player
Maybe she’s playing her own game…
Even as the thought hit me, though, it didn’t sit right. It was clear that Belle was successful as hell without me. She didn’t need my money or my network.
Still, there was something she wasn’t telling me, too. I could sense it. I could feel her holding me just an arm length’s away, studying me, like she knew something I didn’t.
It had kept me awake all night after I left her house on Wednesday — that and the fact that I had blue balls like a motherfucker. A long, hot shower session didn’t bring me relief, nor did the hours I spent tossing and turning, overthinking as I did so well.
It was then that I made a plan.
I decided the best time to tell her would be right after training camp. At that point, I would know if I had a chance at keeping my contract, or if I’d be hitting the road and trying to find another team to take me in. It would also mean that Belle and I had been seeing each other for a couple months. If we make it that long, I’ll have no choice but to tell her if I want to take things to the next level.
Until then, there was no rush. After all, we were still new. We’d only been on a couple of dates. What was the harm in taking it slow and having fun?
I could get to know Belle and she could get to know me.
Me, without the NFL.
The decision cemented, I pushed off from where I’d been leaning up against the closet and made my way into the living room. I needed to spend some time watching film, and then I was meeting up with Gerald at the high school for an evening of drills.
But when I rounded the corner, I heard a soft click. I frowned, leaning back into the guest room, and saw that the closet door had creaked back open, like it was mocking me, like it was pointing out the very obvious truth.
I’m not a secret you can keep for long, it whispered.
As if I didn’t already know.BelleOn Friday night, Gemma was sprawled out on her stomach on my living room rug, fuzzy slippers swinging in the air, paper and fabric and flowers littered around her like a shrine. I was on the couch above her with my laptop between my sweatpants-clad legs, fiddling with my designs for Makoa’s condo, along with a few other projects.
Although, if I was being honest, Makoa had most of my attention — an annoying fact about most of my time recently.
A half-empty bottle of Malbec sat on my coffee table, and I topped off Gemma’s glass before my own, finishing the job. Gemma sat up long enough to take a sip before a long sigh left her chest, and she dragged all her gorgeous brunette hair up into a messy bun.
“Why is this all so hard?” she whined, staring at the computer screen where she’d left off. She was currently trying to decide what kind of wedding favors she wanted, and after hours of narrowing down, it was a toss-up between football-shaped frosted sugar cookies with their name and date on it, or can koozies with the same.
Everything about their wedding was football themed, and trust me, I tried to talk her out of it.
“Look, cookies get eaten and then they’re history. Besides, you’re going to have a cake. Who wants wedding cake and a sugar cookie in the same night?” I shook my head. “Get the koozies. People will use them for years to come.”
Gemma nodded, chewing on her lip and my suggestion. “They would be cute to have at our tailgates this season…”
“See?” I said, gesturing to her laptop. “Problem solved. Now, what’s next?”
Gemma pulled her planner into her lap, thumbing through the pages. “I need to finalize the menu,” she looked at me then. “I still don’t know what to do about the vegetarian option. And I need to decide between the garlic mashed potatoes or the wedge fries. I feel like the wedge fries are more tailgate-ish, but are they too informal?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer before she turned her attention back to the planner in her lap.
“And I need to finalize the flowers… and finish the program design so I can get those printed.” Gemma tapped her chin with her pen. “I think that’s it for tonight, the rest can wait until next weekend.” She looked up to the sky with another deep breath. “You would think this would be my heaven, given how I love to plan so much.”
I chuckled. “It’s a little different when it’s your wedding. I mean, you want everything to be perfect.”
Her big eyes locked on mine. “I really do.”
“Can I tell you something?” I asked, and when she nodded, I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not going to be.”
