Page 121 of Resisting the Running Back

I just have to figure outwhereI want to do this—in particular if it’s just me.

It would be easier to move back home, to be close to my parents despite their divorce, to have some help nearby. It would be easier to be back in my group of friends, though I think I lost most of them when I quit my job.

It’s only now I realize I haven’t even spoken to Brooke in months. I’ve been so busy trying to build my life in San Diego that I neglected my life in Phoenix. Maybe it wouldn’t be so much easier to move back home after all.

At least here, I have Cassie and Grace…

Who I realize now are part ofMiller’sfamily, not mine.

If he opts to walk away once I tell him, he’ll get them in the fallout. Not me.

It feels like my entire life is slipping away before my very eyes. I should channel this angst into my books, but I’m not at that part.

I head to Miller’s workout room, and everything in here reminds me of him.

I get on the treadmill and start a slow walk. I read that exercise is good for the baby, and maybe it’ll be enough to jog my brain out of this fog so I can get some work done.

Truth be told, I need some coffee. I have a splitting headache from avoiding it for the last two days, and I needsomethingto help alleviate it.

I run a quick search and learn that one cup a day is okay, so I treat myself to that after a half hour on the treadmill. I sit out on the deck in the backyard and look out over the view. The house is in the hills of San Diego with a gorgeous view of the rolling hills with houses down below. In the distance I can see the ocean, and it’s peaceful and serene from here.

Will it still be that way in nine months? Or will the crying from inside be enough to pry that serenity right from my fingertips?

Will Miller run upstairs and check on the baby?

Or will I be somewhere else, doing it alone?

I won’t know the answer to that until I talk to him. I need to talk to him.

I take a shower after my cup of coffee, my nerves suddenly feeling like steel.

I have to tell him.

I jump in the car and drive through town to the hotel where the team is staying.

I head to the front desk. “I need the room of Miller Banks, please.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t give you that information.”

“I’m his fiancée,” I say, flashing my ring.

The clerk purses his lips. “Then you should be able to get in touch and ask him his room number.”

I roll my eyes, but I guess it’s not this guy’s fault that he has to uphold the hotel’s policies. It’s probably safer for players anyway.

I realize the team probably isn’t even at the hotel right now, so I get back in my car and head toward the stadium.

I’m not exactly sure what my plan is, but when I get there, I walk up toward the doors where fans enter.

Not shockingly, they’re locked.

I walk around the building to every possible door. I try them all. They’re all locked.

There are no workers out here for me to ask. Nobody to direct me anywhere.

I open my phone and search for the stadium’s information. I find a phone number, and I dial it.

“Thank you for calling the SDS Stadium box office. We are currently closed.”

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