Page 105 of Proposal Play

I turn to Maeve, speaking from the heart about our night in Vegas. “No, not at all. I honestly just wanted to help out a couple we met and then to have a great time that night.”

“And we were just as surprised as anyone when it blew up the next day,” Maeve adds, her voice more natural now.

Rachel scrolls through her notes on her tablet, stopping at one. “Your team says the owner has raised…” She pauses, checking her tablet, and then looks up with an eyebrow raised and shares an eye-popping number. “And that’s since the post of you two kissing she shared.”

“That’s amazing,” Maeve says, seeming genuinely impressed.

“We’re touched,” I add.

Rachel’s gaze shifts to me. “Has charity always been important to you? You’re starting one, right?”

Maeve jumps in before I can respond. “He is, and I’m seriously proud of my husband. He’s always cared about more than just sports. He thinks about the whole athlete—their mental and physical health. And he wants kids to have all those tools too. Anxiety is a real thing, affecting so many people, including athletes, and it’s not often talked about. It’s important to talk about mental health. To destigmatize it for kids. Seeing him create this organizationis so…incredible.” She looks at me, her expression fond, and I feel something new stir in my chest.

We’ve talked about Total Teamwork before, but hearing her say it all makes my heart soften more for her. Like that was possible. But evidently it is.

Rachel smiles, as if she’s noticing the shift. “And now you’ll be by his side as he moves into this new venture?”

Maeve leans against me, her hand resting on my arm, and this time Rachel doesn’t object, maybe because this time feels wholly real. “Absolutely. I’m really proud of him.”

My heart slams against my chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to go from being too touchy, to suddenly feeling warm and…honest.

I try to focus on the rest of the interview, but the way Maeve admires this side of me isn’t helping. It’s making me feel too much. It’s opening the valve on emotions I’ve been keeping at bay for some time now.

But her words are also like a wide-open window. The sun’s shining through it. And it’s illuminating the truth as I glance around my home.

It’s so much better with her here.

And I can’t let her leave.

36

I’M NOT A TACO

Maeve

“It’s the woman of the hour.”

Those are Angelina’s words when I stride over to a corner table at The Spotted Zebra, her favorite watering hole in Hayes Valley.

She opens her arms and gives me a warm hug. She’s from Guatemala and has a big sister vibe about her, where she’s always looking out for me. It’s everything I could want in an agent, and I take the hug, though I’m not letting myself believe her words mean something special.

“You’re the woman of the hour,” I say, deflecting as we let go.

She flubs her lips—actually flubs them—and waves me off. “Please.” She pats the zebra-print stool next to her. “You are, darling.” She says “darling” in an exaggerated, snooty tone.

I laugh and sit down. “Darling? Are we doing that now?”

“Seems fitting.” She gives me a playful smirk.

“All right. Darling,” I say, leaning into her vibe.

As I settle on the stool, Angelina looks me up and down, as if she’s assessing my light blue T-shirt with orange piping that says,I Can’t Make Everyone Happy—I’m Not a Taco,and my flowing black-and-white polka-dot skirt.

“Is this what you wore on camera? It’s so cute. Screamsartist.”

I pluck at the shirt. “Does it?”

“Who else could rock mismatched styles and still look this good? You’ve got creative energy, and it shows.”

---