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“What’s his name?” She pulls out her phone.
“Will Aster.”
Saylor types something, then smirks. “You didn’t mention he’s hot.”
“Saylor.”
My sister-in-law laughs, then turns the screen toward me. She found a shirtless photo, not the photo of him leaning against the goalpost, and I almost swallow my tongue. I knew he was good-looking, but…fuck. His muscles look like they were carved from marble; they’re so sharply defined.
“His stats aren’t bad,” Saylor comments, continuing to scroll.
“His stats aren’t what I’m worried about,” Adler says.
“Then what are you worried about?”
“He’s arrogant.”
“So are you,” Saylor shoots back.
“I’ve proven myself, though.”
“He scored thirty-three goals last season.”
I have no idea how many goals Adler scored last season. Based on his scowl, less than thirty-three.
“So?”
“So, he’s not an idiot to be arrogant.”
Adler scoffs.
“He played in Seattle and—oh.”
I’m guessing Saylor just saw something about why Will Aster is here. Something that, shockingly, I didn’t think about once while I was talking to him. It wasn’t until I was watching him walk away that I remembered he doesn’t just like casual sex. He likes casual sex with married women. Or with a married woman, at least.
Gigi suddenly starts screaming.
She’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. But, wow, does she have a pair of lungs on her. Both Saylor and Adler stand to help my mom soothe her.
The ear-splitting sound stops the socializing in the living room and prompts a move to the dining room. Dinner gets served, most of the meal monopolized by Gigi getting handed around as everyone else tries to pacify her. One of the perks of being the only person at the table with no kids is that I get skipped over. Instead of patting a miniature back or cooing, I just shovel the roast chicken Saylor made into my mouth between sips of wine.
Once Gigi has finally fallen asleep in Adler’s arms and conversation is possible again, my mom asks about my classes. I complain about my most boring one—media law—and explain my advertising photography project for a fake fashion line.
“How’s your internship going, Sophia?” Saylor wonders.
The perfect opening. I fiddle with the slender stem of my wineglass. “Uh, okay.”
My tentative tone gains Adler’s attention. “Just okay? I thought you were really enjoying it.”
“I was. I mean, I am. I…” I take a deep breath. “I got a new assignment today. A guy who works on the Sports section got into a cycling accident over the weekend.”
“That’s awful. Is he all right?” my mom asks.
“He’ll be fine. Just got a little banged up. He needs an assistant to cover the club, though. A photographer, so…” I glance at Adler. Muster a smile. “I’ll wave at you from the sidelines.”
Adler starts laughing. Then realizes, “You’re serious?”
“Yeah. My boss made a big deal about it, so…” I shrug, like I’m truly unbothered and try my best not to be. “It’ll be a new challenge, doing sports photography.”
