Page 19 of Play the Last Card

“What? To remind me I have shit dating skills but follow it up with telling me I’m hot?” I ask resting my head on the back cushions of the couch.

“Yes.” She nods. “And to steal your bagels.”

“I know you have some at home. Grant buys them for you especially.”

“You get the better ones. He’s too cheap to go to an actual bakery for them.”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes, I bring the coffee mug back to my lips. “That’s what you get for dating an accountant.”

“Grant isn’t boring.”

“I never said he was.”

“Your face did.”

“Stop reading my face then.” I poke my tongue out at her, nudging her nearby foot with my toe. I love her and she tells me all the time how happy Grant makes her, and I believe her. I do. But I also can’t help but notice the frustration when he doesn’t listen to her when she tells him about her day or the way she becomes quiet when he tells her she’s being dramatic about something. He’s nice but my best friend deserves more, better and bigger than justnice.

Katie goes quiet for a moment before shaking her head and plastering a grin on her face. “Can’t help it, you truly would be so shit at poker. Promise me you won’t ever play.”

“Promise.” I laugh, letting an easy quiet fall over us as I contemplate whether I should share the details of the texts with Katie. I sink back into the couch a little more before telling her quietly, “I agreed to go out to dinner with him.” I keep my eyes focused on the dwindling amount of coffee left in my mug.

“You did?” Katie jolts forward, shock sinking into her features.

“Don’t sound so shocked. I go on dates.”

“I know that, but you don’t—” She pauses, her head cocking to the side as her words turn softer. “I didn’t think you’d be interested considering he works for the Broncos. I thought that you’d maybe find it too … painful.”

Sadness creeps into my chest, blurring the memory of the brooding man a little.

I sigh. “I guess. I mean, he’s not actually a player, right?” I meet her gaze waiting for her to tell me the bad news.

“Not that I know of. I tried to drag Grant over to meet him but by the time he detached himself from his phone, you guys were gone and then he left instead of coming back inside with you.”

“Surely we’d know his face if he was a player. He would’ve been recognized.” I lean forward, placing the mug on the tray that lives permanently on theottoman.

“To be honest, maybe Grant could but I certainly don’t think I could pick them out of a crowd. Sure, some players would be super recognizable. The ones that have been around for ages or have been in the shit for some reason or another. But if he’s quiet and keeps to himself, we might not.” She rolls her mug gently between her hands, obviously trying to remember if she has seen Scott before.

“No. We were at Pats. He’s come to the bar a few times. The place is always crawling with die-hard fans. There is no way he plays professional football for the Broncos and could get away being there without being recognized.” I nod more to myself than to Katie, settling on my decision that there isno wayScott is a football player.

“Did he say anything about what he does over there?”

Truthfully, after one shot and a beer I’d practically sculled before heading outside with Scott to try to calm my nerves—not to mention the many drinks that came after he’d vanished—I couldn’t remember exactly what he’d been saying. “He mentioned he did a psych degree in college … I think.”

“You’re such a lightweight.” Katie laughs gently.

“Maybe he’s an accountant or something in their finance department.” I shoot her a wink before uncurling my legs from underneath me getting up from the couch. “It would kind of cancel out the whole football thing if he was as boring as Grant is.”

One of the decorative pillows hits the back of my knees as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I laugh, calling back to Katie as I head for a shower. “Are you hanging around today? I could use a hand with some stuff for work if you are.”

A groan sounds from downstairs and it makes me laugh again. Her reply filters up to me as I reach the top of the staircase. “Sure. Why not? My cutting and pasting could use some improvement since the last time you made me help you!”

***

It’s funny how time seems to slow down when you’re waiting for something to happen. My date with Scott looms closer and closer yet Saturday seems to drag on forever. After Katie helped me prep countless name tags and cut outs for my classroom set up day next week, she called Grant to drop over wine. We ordered pizza and got stuck into the latest season ofHousewiveson Bravo. It’s escapism at its finest but I was desperately avoiding staring at the quiet text chain between Scott and I.

Like people say, a watched pot never beeps … or something like that.

After my run on Sunday morning, I stuff a new pack of UNO cards into my bag and head for the hospital. The entire drive over I fidget and fiddle, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I play with the volume on the radio. I go from singing half-heartedly along with the song to chewing on my bottom lip.

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