Page 201 of Scoring the Player
“This way,” Liz says as I look left and right down the long hallway. “Third door on the right.”
Liz gently twists the handle and peeks in. “Good, you’re awake,” she says, then steps inside. “You have a visitor.” Liz nods for me to enter.
Extending the cake first, I announce, “Special delivery.”
“Whoa,” Anaïs says, her voice a little hoarse. “Is that you, bestie?”
“Guilty.” I chuckle.
She’s nestled in the middle of a large bed, under the covers and surrounded by pillows, including a wedge pillow that’s propping her up. Natural light pours in through the triple-arched windows. Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I knew you’d come.”
“I brought your favorite.” I pad over and lower the cake to give her a view.
She grabs her glasses from the nightstand and thumbs them on. “Oh. My. God.” Her toothy grin stretches wide.
“Isn’t it exceptional?” Liz exclaims.
“Still have to taste it first,” I remind her.
She waves her hand over the cake toward her nose. “God, the scent.”
“Oh, I used date syrup for the cream, and gluten-free flour for the sponge. I promise it’s still delicious. The decorations are sugar-based, unfortunately, but I made it easy to pluck off so you can skip ’em. I read that sugar and gluten can cause inflammation.”
Anaïs turns to Liz. “Can we adopt him?”
“Sure.” Liz laughs. “Though it might make things awkward for Arnie.”
Anaïs looks at me and offers a sympathetic smile. So, she knows.
Of course she knows.
“May I offer you tea or coffee? Mint would probably go well. Or Cinnamon?” Liz asks.
Anaïs and I both answer, “Cinnamon,” as Liz makes space for the cake on the coffee table across the room.
“Pull up a chair.” Anaïs gestures to one of the two armchairs.
After Liz leaves and I pull up a chair next to the bed, Anaïs removes her glasses and says, “I’m glad I wasn’t part of the breakup.”
I arch my eyebrows.
“I know you weren’t, like, a couple-couple, but it still feels like a breakup to me.”
“Yeah, well, my bond with you is tight.” I extend my fist to her, and she bumps it.
“He misses you. Like, really misses you. He knows he could have handled things better. He’s never been in a relationship. And that’s not an excuse; it’s just a fact.”
“Anaïs—”
“I know. I need to mind my business. Can you blame me, though? I really want you to marry Arnie and join our family.”
Time for a change of subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I had adhesions cut off my organs,” she tells me, then reverts to the previous topic. “So, do you think you’ll work it out?”
I shake my head, fighting a grin as she clasps her hands together under her chin and blinks rapidly.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “The whole situation left me feeling kinda disposable, when I thought I meant more to him.”
