“The show where you sit in a pod for a week and get engaged afterward… sight unseen?”
“The very one.”
My brain short-circuits.Oh my God.I actually saw that guy when I was in Vegas. Grant and I literally walked right past him.
“Okay, so you’re telling me you signed up for this show, played it, and married someone?” My voice is calm but my blood pressure is sprinting for its life.
“Yeah.” He says it sheepishly, and his damn British accent makes it almost impossible to stay mad.
“Luca! How have the press not gotten ahold of this information?”
“I used a fake name. And dressed like a pimp to disguise myself when we got married.”
“You’re lying.”
“Not at all.”
“I’m laughing, Luca, but this is the most insane thing I have ever heard in my life.” I rub my temples, because my brain officially hurts. “Who else knows?”
“Just Coach, Will Huntley, Xavier Darcy, and Grant Mills. If I didn’t tell them, I probably would’ve been benched by now. Or traded.”
I frown. “And Marlow Mills? Does she know?”
He shakes his head. “I was advised not to tell Marlow just yet. Not until she gets her head around all the other scandals and we figure out a way out of this mess.”
Great. More secrets.
I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. I blink a few times, trying to gather my words and not sound as dumbfounded as he does flat-out stupid.
“So now, because youthinkyou’ve seen her, you believe it’s some kind of sign to take time off work and go find her?”
“I do, Coach.” His voice is so sincere it almost hurts. “I just don’t think I’m going to be right until I find her.”
“Luca,” I take a deep breath. “Could this also be a manifestation of your fears?”
He frowns, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Justice Trager’s retiring sooner than later. His wife’s expecting, and you’re next in line for team captain. On top of that, there are talks of pulling you up for the World Cup to play with England. You step away now, Luca...you could riskeverything.”
He pauses. I watch him actually process it. “Shit. I guess you might be onto something.”
I nod, folding my hands in my lap. “Maybe take a little time to really think about it before you make any decisions, okay? Evaluate your fears, your motivations...andyour goals.”
“Okay. I can do that.” He nods like a student who’s finally accepted the lesson.
“And besides,” I add, raising a brow, “a marriage where you used your fake name isn’t exactly valid, is it?”
He chuckles, standing to leave, and reaches out to shake my hand. “You should see this woman, Coach. One night and she ruined me for anyone else.”
I know the feeling.
“Just don’t let her ruin your career too, huh?” I say, trying to lighten the moment.
He flashes me a grin and heads out the door, leaving me sitting there alone—mentally spinning as I stare down at the blinking message on my tablet from Marlow.
Now I just have to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of drinks with my boss while trying not to picture her father’s hands on me every time she says his name.
Marlow bursts into my office right as I’m mentally scrambling for a believable excuse to cancel our drinks. The sad truth is I have absolutely nothing else to do tonight, but somehow“I want to avoid spending time with you because I can’t stop thinking about your father”doesn’t feel like a great option.
