Page 92 of Her Game Plan

Finally, I shrug out of my coat and hang it up. “I think your greeting mostly covered it: Sad.”

“I’ve got snacks on the table in front of the TV. Oh, and wine.”

There’s a knock at the door, and I drop onto the couch as Addie lets in Finley and Sage.

As Addie welcomes them and takes their jackets, I look around the place—my place—and try to imagine moving back in. I can’t. It’s like, somehow, after living with Callan, I don’t fit in this space anymore. And the thought of moving back makes my chest feel like it’s crumbling.

Too bad I’ve promised myself not to be a total bummer tonight. Addie got enough of it on Sunday. That girl is done. And I’m moving on. Well, maybe not on, but I’m moving forward.

“Sorry about the game.” Sage sits next to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

“I was really hoping we’d make it farther. It would’ve made all this shit with Hugo easier.”

“What shit with Hugo?” Finley asks around a mouthful of prosciutto.

“He’s trying to fucking trade Callan.” It’s all I can do to keep the snarl from my voice.

“Moron.” I know Finley’s ice-queen stare isn’t directed at me, but I still feel a shiver run through me.

“Wait, what?” Sage prods. “I need more information.”

I explain how Hugo is certain we need to get rid of Callan and that, between his play this season and how much space he takes up in the salary cap, we need to trade him.

“It doesn’t make sense, though,” Sage says when I’m done. “I mean, sure, trading Callan is one option, but the fans love him and so does the team, from everything you’ve told us.”

Finley nods. “I mean, I’m biased because Hugo seems like a huge dick, but you might want to dig into it deeper. It does seem strange that he’s so focused on Callan.”

I sigh. “I know. I’ve been so fixated on getting a sponsor signed to replace the one we lost that I haven’t had time to dig into it as much as I should. I tried to corner Hugo in his office, but his assistant said he was out all day.”

“How is the sponsor search going?” Addie asks.

I drop back into the couch. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard to find someone willing to be our second-largest brand sponsor! It’s not the five million in naming rights. We’re talking a million a year,” I complain.

Addie nearly chokes on her wine. “Oh, honey, your princess is showing.”

My heart sinks at her words, but I force a smile anyway. She’s said that to me many a time over the last fifteen years, but for some reason, it hurts today. No, not for some reason: because it reminded me of Callan. And anytime I think about him, and how badly I fucked things up, I get this acid pit in my stomach.

“The Stallions are a good use of marketing dollars,” I argue. “I’m not asking random people on the street to donate. I need one company to sign on for a million, and we’ll be set.”

“Easy-peasy,” Addie deadpans.

The conversation moves from me to Finley’s season and Beckett’s new job. The two of them make this relationship thing sound so easy. Even when they’re apart. Even when I was there when it started and know it was anything but easy.

I can tell from the way they’re all studiously avoiding asking me about Callan and me that Addie must’ve told them about our call on Sunday. I appreciate that they’re willing to let me talk about it when I’m ready.

Because what else is there to say? That the first song on the playlist I made for him came on the radio this morning, and all I wanted to do was go back home and crawl into bed next to him. Instead, I cried in my office, yet again, over my loss. Or that I would do anything to take back the hurt I caused him. That I’d take it back even if he never wanted to speak to me again. That I want to watch film with him like Finley and Beckett do together. That I would rather be eating Nerds Clusters in the front seat of his car than be anywhere else in the entire world?

That even if he gets traded, I would rather fly back and forth and video call him during every spare minute than be with someone else?

“What about you, Addie?” Finley asks. “Are you dating anyone?”

She snorts. “The only men I ever see are minor league basketball players and their coaches. And I would never date a basketball player… even if it wasn’t forbidden.”

“Never say never.” I nudge Finley, forcing a smile to my face. “We’re big fans of forbidden love around here.”

We drink more than we probably should, and when it’s time to go home, I let out a heavy sigh, pulling up the app for a rideshare.

“Want to stay here, Charlotte?” Addie asks, her eyes filled with concern.