Page 48 of In The Game

“Rob likes the mortadella.”

“I don’t care what Rob likes. What doyoulike?”

She clears her throat. “They have a brisket Reuben that’s pretty good. And a Mediterranean salad that I get sometimes.”

We get to the front of the line, and I gesture for her to order her coffee.

“A small vanilla latte with hazelnut.”

“And a mortadella, two brisket Reubens and two Mediterranean salads.” I add. “Mortadella to go, everything else for here.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Barrett,” she chastises. I like the way she drops the T at the end of my name. I’ve noticed her accent is more pronounced when she’s irritated.

I swipe my card and pay, throwing a couple bucks in the tip jar.

“Let’s find a seat.” I don’t feel bad about placing my hand on her lower back. I’m using every chance I get to touch her. We find a quiet table near the corner and I pull my baseball cap lower. I want us to enjoy a private conversation in the cozy atmosphere. The tinted windows make it seem later in the day. Walls are covered in mismatched wood boards and about a hundred Edison bulbs hang in clusters from the ceiling. It’s almost romantic.

“They give me a company card to pay for his lunches, you know.”

“I know.” I nod. “But you can tell Rob I’m the one that bought his lunch today.”

She shakes her head. “This some kind of pissing contest?”

“It’s no contest.”

She rolls her pretty eyes. My fingers itch to touch her.

“Can I see the messages now?”

I didn’t notice the amused smile on her lips until it disappeared with my last words. She unlocks her phone and taps the screen a few times and scrolls, it appears she’s scrolling througha lotof messages before handing over the open DMs fromme.

BCon33.

That’s not my username.

I look up from the screen and meet her eyes momentarily.

“My username is BarrettConwayOfficial.”

“Yeah, that’s from your personal account, BCon33.”

“I don’t have apersonalaccount. I can’t even handle my own Instagram, much less juggle an additional one.”

She narrows her eyes and tilts her face away. “So you…?”

I shake my head. “Someone set up an impostor account. This wasn’t me.”

Whoever did this, will pay dearly.

She clutches her stomach and turns her head to gaze out the large café windows. My focus drops back down to the phone as my fingers scroll through the phony messages. It’s chilling to think of someone else speaking to her using my identity.

When I get to the responses, I freeze. The more I scroll, the worse it gets. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. With wide eyes, I read, “Take this as a sign you should probably hang up your jersey, this is no way to find a man—or a baby daddy, in your case. It’s one thing to look nice for the boys, but after we’ve fucked you a couple of—I can’t say the rest. Hostility like I’ve never known rages inside me.

I swallow down the hurt I feel for her. The anger I feel for us.All this time. She tried so hard.

“Raleigh.” I clear my throat, the emotion climbing higher. I can’t believe she went through this. And not only that, but she thought these vicious words were mine. No wonder she hates me. I don’t blame her.They’re unforgivable.“I didn’t send these. This is not…” I shake my head. “I wouldneverspeak to you this way, Raleigh.” I’d never speak to anyone this way.

Thinking of a young, newly pregnant Raleigh reading these messages and thinking they were the thoughts of her child’s father, crushes me. I scroll back up and screenshot each one.

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