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“Only if by run wild you mean have a beer or two before getting home to you. Spending time with the team is important. I’m not going to lie to you or build any false expectations. Being a baller is more than a job. It’s a lifestyle to a certain degree. And we’ve got to build that brotherhood between us, nurture it. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be doing anything that would hurt you, baby. Besides, most of the time I’d hope you’d be by my side.”
Him wanting me around with his friends makes me feel a tiny bit better but not enough for the worry and fear that’s bubbling up inside of me.
“You really think you can be happy with just this? With us?” I ask, my heart once again on my sleeve. Sheesh. The emotional maturity and shows of trust necessary for going forward with this man are huge. Big giant leaps of faith that could easily wind up with me being crushed or hurt. But here we are. “This isn’t going to alter my lifestyle all that much. I’m pretty much a shut-in by nature. But you’re giving up a certain amount of your social life by being with me.”
His gaze narrows on my face, his jaw set. “Sweetheart, I’m not giving up shit. I’m gaining you and that is everything. Trust that I know what I want for me. And baby, that’s you. Okay?”
“Okay.” Ugh. My eyes are watery. Again. “Um. Here’s an interesting photo. Scantily clad and posing with feathery fans. I wonder if she does burlesque? Though that won’t necessarily help us since the nightclubs are shut down and I doubt we’ll be able to find anyone to talk to even if we could locate where she performs. Pity she doesn’t tag her pics with locations.”
“Yeah.” I can feel the hope leaching out of him and I hate it. I hate that this is messing with his life and I wish I could do more.
“Night out with the girls. Do you recognize any of these faces from your cheerleading team?”
Lines furrow his forehead. “No.”
“There’s that shot with your friend. Does the background look familiar to you at all?”
He sighs. “Looks like a sports bar near home that we’ve been to a few times. The owners are pretty cool about us being there, don’t make a fuss or anything and don’t let anyone bother us.”
“That’s nice, but unfortunately it still doesn’t help us. What the hecking heck is going to help us track her down during a pandemic? That’s the question.”
“We need her home address. Her phone number or something concrete like that. We need to talk to her and find out what the hell went down.”
I nod, lips pursed in concentration. “Despite the number of romantic suspense and detective books that I’ve read, I’m not being much use here. Sorry.”
“That’s not true. You’ve gotten me way further than I’d have managed on my own.” He slumps back against the couch and stares at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll give Polly my publicist a ring. Update her on what we’ve found and ask her if she’s got any ideas.”
“Worth a try.” Which is when my cell, sitting on the coffee table, starts buzzing like crazy. I pass Evan back the laptop and reach for the phone. Messages from Zahra. A constantly updating line of them. I unlock the screen and open up Messenger. And that’s when I see it. “Holy shit.”
He tenses. “What is it?”
“Photos of us. From when we went to the pharmacy the other day.” An endless parade of screen grabs march past my gaze. I don’t think my eyes could get any wider. And all the while, a yawning pit opens in my stomach. Because this can’t be good. It just can’t be. “Sparky gets smutty. A modern fairy tale for troubled football star. This is…Jesus, it’s everywhere.”CHAPTER 16
QUARANTINE: DAY 16
SADIEWHEN YOU GET RIGHT DOWN to it, I’d kind of been in denial about the whole dating a famous person thing. Ignoring the fact that Evan was a public figure was entirely possible due to the current situation with the whole world on pause. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. And it’s not like I have no experience with this sort of thing. People at book signings want my autograph and to have their photo taken with me. Within Romancelandia, I’m relatively well known. But my fame is nowhere near this level.
“My high school boyfriend wants to know if I can get him a signed jersey.” I pace up and down the living room with my cell in hand. Gloria is not happy with me. I know that much. She sits on the kitchen bench, giving me a most aggravated glare. “We only went out for three weeks before he dumped me.”
