“We got him. We got Brady Thomas!” she exclaims.
No.
I feel my stomach drop. I’m pretty certain if I look down, I’ll find it on the floor. It’s a herculean effort to maintain my smile, but, thankfully, Fran has moved on.
I make my excuses and flee.
No-no-no-no.
Not him. He can’t be coming here—hejustrenewed his contract with the New York Bulls.
My fluttering heart has become a wild animal in a cage, and it feels like it’s going to break my ribs by the time I make it back to my office and shut the door.
I’m pacing, frantic, and then I stop myself.
I can do this. I’m aprofessional, and he’ll just be part of the job.
But as I sink down into my chair and stare at the pictures on my desk, I let myself say the one word I haven’t uttered since Liam turned two:
“Fu-u-u-uck.”