Page 98 of Her Game Plan

Billy lets out a harrumph, his gaze fixed on the cards in his hand.

“We’ll call that plan B,” I suggest to Rose.

Nan taps her cards against her lip as if in deep contemplation. “No. And I think it’d be best if you left us to our game now.”

I let out a long exhale. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “Please, Nan?” I beg. “I know you don’t like me. I know you think I’m using your grandson and am going to walk away and leave his heart broken, like his parents did.”

With that, I have her attention, almost as if she’s surprised Callan told me about his parents.

“And you’re right,” I confess. “I was using him. I asked him to pretend to be in a serious relationship with me, and being the kind, goodhearted person that he is, he readily agreed. Without asking for anything from me.”

Nan snorts. “That boy and his desire to make everyone happy. I’ve always warned him it was going to get him in trouble.”

“I know. And I took advantage of it. Though, to be fair, I thought he was a conceited ass at the time. But then we started living together, and I realized he’s kind. And he’s caring, and he’s smart. And funny. And he’s the only man in this world who makes me feel like I’m worth something for being me—not my father’s daughter, not an heiress—me. It was real, even if we didn’t call it that. But then the GM of the team started talking about trading him. And I said no, but I didn’t have the power to make him stop—not at the time, at least.” I look at the ceiling, scrunching my nose to keep the tears from my eyes.

“And Callan found out. And the way he looked at me—I hurt him in a way I didn’t know how to forgive myself for, especially not when he asked me to leave. So I did. Because even if I couldn’t let him out of our fake relationship, I could stop being one of the people in his life who take, take, take until he has nothing left.”

I wipe angrily at the side of my nose. “But here’s the thing, maybe I am selfish. Because I can’t walk away. I have to win him back. And the only way I can do that is to bring him your cookies. Not because they’re likely to be any good, but because it means you gave me the recipe. That you don’t hate me anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if the one person in this entire world who he knows loves him unconditionally forgives me, then maybe he will, too.”

Rose pulls a tissue out of her cleavage and hands it to Jacob.

“Allergies,” he mumbles around a sniffle.

“Kids these days,” Nan mumbles, standing from her seat. “Can’t have a simple conversation with each other. Have to make everything so complicated.”

I stare at the people still at the table as Nan walks from the room, her steps slow but certain.

“Well?” She stops right outside the door. “Are you coming to bake these cookies, or do I have to do it myself?”

I chase after Nan, remembering halfway to the door to throw a quick wave to Rose, Jacob, and Billy. It’s quiet as we ride the elevator to her apartment and while she pulls out all the baking ingredients. But I stay quiet, terrified of saying something that might make her change her mind.

“There’s one thing you need to understand about Callan,” Nan says as she pours the flour mixture into the bowl with the eggs, sugar, and butter. “He would give you his throwing arm if he thought it would make you like him. And not only you, anyone. I love my son very much, but he was—is—a terrible father. He and Cindy spent Callan’s childhood blaming every minor inconvenience in their life on their son, so Callan learned how to be as convenient as possible. But here’s the truth about love: and I mean both familial love and romantic love.”

She turns on the old, white KitchenAid stand mixer, and I consider whether I should open my phone to take notes or not. “Loving someone is inherently inconvenient. To love is one of the least selfish things you can do, and, in doing so, you inconvenience yourself. Callan’s parents never understood that. Were far too self-centered to love Callan the way he deserved.”

“And you think I’m the same?” I’m terrified of her answer, but I can’t stop myself from asking.

She keeps her hand on the top of the mixer as she turns to look at me. “Well, you’re currently baking cookies with a ninety-year-old woman, wearing an apron with chickens all over it, just to make my grandson happy. Which is something his mother never chose to do. And, you could’ve simply bought him cookies at the store and told him they were my recipe, so there’s that, too.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. I think he could pick your cookies out in a blind taste test. Plus, you know the first thing he’s going to do is call you and find out whether you really have decided not to hate me.”

Nan stops the mixer, dropping the bowl to scrape the sides. “The boy won’t protect himself. And you’re the first woman he’s ever brought to meet me. I needed to make sure you were in it for real. Even when things got hard.”

I think about the man I’m falling for and the way he’s always so willing to help out others. The strength in him that comes from caring.

I grab one of the two cookie scoops and, following Nan’s lead, drop cookies onto the metal sheet.

“He’s stronger than you give him credit for. Sure, he loves to help other people, but he doesn’t let them walk all over him. He’s intelligent and funny and… potentially addicted to Nerds Clusters.”

I glance around the kitchen, my gaze landing on the metal rooster on the wall. Tracing the rainbow colors in the feathers of his tail, I add softly, “I never meant to hurt him. And I can’t promise I won’t ever hurt him again, but I can promise that I will cherish him for as long as he’ll let me.”

“I know.” Nan wipes her hands on her apron and puts the cookies in the oven before releasing a deep sigh. “I suppose I should acknowledge that I may have been acting on more than an unselfish need to protect him. Callan is my only real family. My son hasn’t visited in over a decade.” She starts washing dishes, waving me off when I offer to help.

“I’m afraid of losing him. Have been since he was eight. Every time his parents would come back, I’d think, this is it. This is the time they decide to take him with them, and they’re gone—he’s gone—for good.”

She turns to face me, her shoulders back, but the fear visible in her eyes. “Yes, I wanted to protect him, but I could also tell you were special to him. If him bringing you to meet me wasn’t enough, the way he looked at you told me everything I needed to know: you had the power to pull him away from me and my life. And the only thing worse than getting old is getting old without the ones you love around to keep you company. I… I couldn’t do it. And I’m sorry.”

I take a step forward, wrapping my arms around her. She stiffens in my hold, but I don’t let go. Finally, she relaxes enough to pat me on the back.