Page 72 of When Stars Collide
“You are young,” he pointed out. “Relatively.”
“I don’t feel that way.”
“Thirty-five is only old in football years.”
“You’re almost forty, so that makes you ancient.”
“I’m not almost forty. I’m thirty-six.”
“Going on thirty-seven.”
“Not yet.”
“Jem’excuse.”
They turned onto Michigan Avenue. The day was sunny, but cold and crisp, thanks to the spring chill coming off the lake. The chill hadn’t discouraged the pedestrians bustling along the wide sidewalks with their shopping bags from Nike, Bloomingdale’s, Chanel, and the Apple Store.
“What are you going to do with yourself when your football career is over?” she asked.
“Not sure.”
“Give me a hint.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been doing some work with a friend.” Work he wasn’t ready to talk to anybody about. “I’ve got an idea. The Omni’s close. Let’s check in for a couple of hours. Just you and me.”
“It’s too pretty to go inside.”
“It’s cold, and you’re nervous. Afraid you can’t keep up with me, aren’t you? Afraid you’ll be a dud.”
“I’m not afraid I’ll be a dud.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. “Okay, I might be a dud.”
He laughed. “You’re adorable when you’re insane.”
“Dude! It’s Thad Owens!” Three guys in hoodies and backward baseball caps strutted toward them. Early twenties. One wore jeans, two were in cargo shorts even though the temperature was in the forties.
“We’re big Stars fans.” The tallest bro, ablaze in neon-green sunglasses, stopped in front of them.
“Glad to hear it,” Thad replied, as he usually did.
His companion, whose hoodie advertised his preference for Miller Lite, poked the guy next to him. “Except Chad. Bears all the way.”
“Bears suck,” Neon sunglasses declared. “So does Clint Garrett. You should be playing.”
“If I was better than Clint, I would be,” Thad said mildly.
Neon sunglasses snorted. “What about those interceptions he threw against the Patriots?”
“It’s easy to be a quarterback when you’re home on your couch.”
Sunglasses missed the dig. “And that pick six in St. Louis? What about that?”
Thad set his jaw. “Happens to the best of us. Nobody in the League has a stronger arm than Clint or quicker feet. The Stars are lucky to have him.”
“I still say—”
“He’s fast, he’s aggressive, and he’s smart. I’m proud to be on his team. Nice talking to you.” Thad took Olivia’s arm and made his escape.
Behind him, one of them groused, “We didn’t even get a picture.”
