Page 93 of The Baller

“My grandma taught me. She lived with us before my mom met Steve, and when Steve moved in, my grandma found a place on the same street. I used to go over every day after school, and we’d make dinner together.”

“She taught you well.”

“She did. I’ll tell her you said that.”

Her head dropped and she looked at her bowl. “Have you told herabout me? Have you told your mom about me? I mean, I know you told Maddie, but I get it, parents are different, and…”

The entire time she’d been talking, she’d been twisting the pasta ribbons on her fork, round and round, until everything left in her bowl was loaded up. She shook it off and started again, or would have if I didn’t hold onto her hand.

“Radley?”

She glanced up at me, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Yes, I’ve told them about you,” I grinned. “Technically, Maddie got there first because she’s a big mouth and can’t keep a secret, but I would have told them.”

Her shoulders dropped down six inches. “Really?”

“Yeah. I tell my mom about everything that’s important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

“You are.” I picked up my beer and sipped, holding her soft, beautiful golden gaze as I was hit with a ball of nerves, punching me directly in the gut. Because the next question was logical, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer. “What about you? Have you told your parents?”

She shook her head, but didn’t look away. “No, I wanted to do it in person. I didn’t want them worrying or whatever… I didn’t want my mom to flip out and order me home.”

I ignored the way my chest seized at the thought of her not being in New York. “She’d do that?”

She shrugged, and shook her head again. “No, she wouldn’t, but it’s been hard for her seeing me go through everything, plus everything I put them through when those photos were leaked.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I know. I just mean… it added a lot of stress to them when they didn’t need it. And then on top of that, they worry about me. I didn’t want to tell them over the phone, I wanted them to see I was okay. Great. I wanted them to see how great I am.” The smile she gave had me leaning in to kiss her. “Plus, there’s the biggest issue…”

“What’s that?”

“You play for The Lions,” she laughed, then stopped herself. “Seriously, it’ll be a big deal, especially for my brothers.”

I topped up her glass of Diet Coke. “I think I can handle your brothers and your parents. Parents love me.”

“How many parents have you met?”

Smacking a kiss to her pursed, indignant lips, I said, “None, but I’m sure if I had, they’d all love me.”

She picked up her fork again, only to move it around her bowl, none of the frantic twisting, but I preferred that to this listless silence.

“Talk to me, Goldilocks.”

“Would you want to meet my parents?”

“Of course, I would. They’re your parents.”

“It doesn’t scare you?”

I sat back while she continued pushing pasta around, because there were really two questions she was asking. If I was honest, yeah, it scared the shit out of me, but there was a greater chance of getting Tanner in a room with a spider than of me ever admitting that.

“You mean because your parents happen to be the President and the Secretary of State? Or because I’d be meeting your parents?”

“Both.”

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