“You could have led with that. I’m starving.”
I follow her down the hall to her office. It’s a stark contrast from the glass walls and strategy boards in the conference room. Her office has framed photos, a rug for Sera to play on, a meticulously organized desk, and at least three snack drawers that she pretends are for Sera.
I shut the door behind me and take a seat in the chair in front of her desk.
Alie holds up two bags. “Chocolate or pretzels?”
“Why can’t I have both?”
“You can. Catch.” She tosses both bags at me, and I have to lean to the right to catch them.
“I’m literally sitting across from you, and you still can’t aim?”
She laughs, but doesn’t answer.
“Your almost husband is the quarterback of this team, Aliette. You should ask him for some pointers.”
“If I do that, I’ll become better than him, and it will jeopardize his place on the team.” She smirks.
We both laugh and talk about nothing important while we eat our snacks.
She complains about one of the scouts who keeps sendingurgentemails that are absolutely not urgent.
I tell her about one of the rookies from last season who still refuses to admit he hates cold plunges.
She laughs.
I eat chocolate.
Very normal sister things. Which means … she’s about to ambush me. But I can’t read if it’s about her or me.
When she leans back in her chair and studies me, I have my answer.
“So,” she says.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“I don’t like your tone.”
“My tone is lovely.”
“Your tone is nosy.”
She huffs. “It can be both.”
I sigh. “Fine. Ask.”
She leans forward, crossing her arms in front of her on the desk. “How is everything going?”
“Funny, Dad just asked me pretty much the same thing.”
“Okay, and what did you say?”
“What are you asking me, Alie?”
She rolls her eyes. “Always so direct.”
