Page 22 of The Wedding Deal
“Then screw him. I don’t want someone like that on my team.”
Utter astonishment flickered across her features.
He meant it. If someone was stupid enough not to take a job because of that, he didn’t want to work with him. He wanted open-minded people. People willing to shake things up enough to take a losing team to one they could all be proud of.
“That means a lot,” she said, her voice soft.
And that damn tightening sensation went through his chest again.
…
Charlotte watched Lance’s family interact with each other, smiling as they jibbed and reminisced and caught up on each other’s lives. While the tablecloths in the private room they’d reserved were white linen, and there were candles—that quickly got blown out by Taylor when one of her sons reached for them—the room was far from quiet, the mood far from swanky.
Austin was five and did his best to behave, but clearly sitting still was akin to torture for him, while three-year-old Aaron needed constant appeasing. He kept demanding more drink or Goldfish crackers, standing on his chair to announce his wishes so the entire room could hear.
Taylor and her husband, Scott, would be in the middle of a sentence one minute, then shifting gears to mommy and daddy mode the next. Maribelle, Lance’s father, Chuck, and Mitch and Lance pitched in as if it were second nature, asking the boys a question that drew their attention and made them forget how restless they’d been moments ago.
Charlotte had always wondered what it’d be like to have a big family. The raised-by-nuns retort she’d made to Lance seemed a little too true at times.
Her mom passed away when Charlotte was ten, and Dad had pulled her from her familiar school and enrolled her in the Catholic school right next to the college campus where he coached football. Even though they weren’t exactly Catholic—apparently Grandma James was, and that counted. That and paying tuition and following the rules.
Dad was forever late to pick her up, so she’d end up sitting in the cathedral with one of the few nuns on the staff. Sister Margaret was super strict and put Charlotte to work, because “idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”
If she didn’t do a job 100 percent perfect, Sister Margaret would make her do it again. If she stepped out of line, the doled-out punishments were harsh. Charlotte quickly learned that the easiest way to avoid getting in trouble was to follow the rules to the letter.
It wasn’t all bad, though. She managed to make a handful of friends, and occasionally Sister Agnes would be at the cathedral instead. She mothered Charlotte, showed her the meaning of charity, and kept her hopeful by telling her that one day she’d look back and see how much she’d learned and how strong it’d made her.
That was what she clung to when Dad only paid attention to her as it suited his whims. When she could finally drive herself home and constantly arrived to find it empty.
Even when he came home, it still felt empty.
A strange sort of longing wound through her as she watched Lance’s family interact so easily. Every word, every gesture showed how much they cared about each other, no strings attached.
It’s okay. I have Shannon.Her roommate had become her support system these past six months, and she still had Dad, along with her hopes of repairing their strained relationship. Surely he’d be easier to get through to after he finished treatment for his gambling addiction, too.
“Charlotte, you look so familiar,” Maribelle said, pulling her out of her thoughts. Lance’s mother was seated opposite her, her husband on one side and Aaron’s booster seat on the other. “Were you at my father’s funeral?”
“Yes, I was. Mr. Price was a great boss, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” She should’ve said something sooner, but she’d been so caught up in the buzz and all the people.
“Thank you, dear.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes, and her husband wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the support, but her gaze remained on Charlotte. “How long have you worked for the Mustangs?”
“Seven years.” She glanced at Lance, who’d gone quiet at her side. His attention was on his mom, concern creasing his features.
Maribelle’s smile turned watery. “I loved my father like crazy, but he gave his life to that team. He could get so cranky about football.”
“Can’t we all?” Charlotte automatically said, and she swore the room quieted. “Or…am I the only one?”
Snickers went around the table, and Lance said, “I think you’re in a safe place when it comes to losing your mind over football.”
“You should see how grouchy Mitch is when the team loses,” Stacy chimed in. “I can hardly stand him.” She quickly kissed her fiancé to soften her statement, and he lightly pinched her side, making her laugh.
Maribelle shook her head. “I tried to avoid it. Swore I wasn’t going to marry anyone who liked the sport. But then I met Charles…” Her gaze turned adoring as it drifted to him. “And somehow ended upmarriedto a football player. My dad never let me hear the end of it, either. Now I’m surrounded by football fanatics.”
Guilty smiles bounced from one person’s face to the other, and then an object flew through the air. Lance whipped up his hand and caught the projectile sippy cup, flinching when some of the liquid dripped out and hit his face.
“Future baller right there,” Chuck said, laughing, while Taylor told him to stop encouraging him. She took the blue and yellow cup Lance extended her way and set it out of Aaron’s reach. She explained to him that he wasn’t getting it back until he stopped throwing it, but as soon as she turned to see what Austin needed, Chuck scooted it close enough that his grandson could pick it up.
When Taylor noticed, she asked who’d given him his cup, but the waiters came in with the food they’d ordered, saving anyone from having to rat out Chuck.
