Page 13 of The Decoy

“Modest, too,” she teases. “It’s a miracle you’ve stayed so humble after five years in the league.”

“Hey, I’m a simple guy for the most part,” I grin, leaning my head back, staring at the rafters above. “Give me a football, a good steak, and a quiet place, and I’m all set. You, on the other hand, are used to a more lavish lifestyle. Almost like royalty.”

“Oh, please,” she sighs, though I hear her smile through it. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t grow up in a castle with a moat and a drawbridge. Is that why you call me Princess?”

“Maybe,” I say, laughing. “Come on, be honest though. You work for your family’s multi-billion-dollar sports empire. You must have had a pretty sweet life. Silver spoon and whatnot.”

“It was platinum, actually,” she shoots back playfully. “And for the record, my home life growing up was quiet and normal for the most part. People hear ‘Renwick,’ and they imagine trust funds and private islands, but my parents are incredibly down-to-earth. They met in college, got married, and raised my brother and me in Greenwich, Connecticut. Yes, we also had a brownstone in the city that we’d use during holidays or events, but my brother and I went to a public school and even rode a bus. And we also played in the dirt.”

“Yeah, but public school in Greenwich is like a private five-star resort, I’d imagine,” I chuckle, scratching Buck behind his floppy ear while he lets out a grunt. “My high school back in Canton had rusty lockers, flickering fluorescent lights, and the roof leaked when it rained, or the snow melted.”

“Okay, fair,” she concedes with a soft laugh that makes me smile. “I know we were, are, incredibly fortunate. My great-grandfather was a chemistry professor at a university and was trying to create a fast-absorbing hydration therapy for hospitals, and he accidentally formulated the electrolyte base for Overtime in his lab. As you know, it’s been a global sports drink giant for over fifty years, but when I was growing up, it was just our family business. My parents really are grounded, though. They never forced us into the family business or acted like it was our birthright. Our parents explicitly told Bryan and me that we could be artists, teachers, or marine biologists if we wanted to. They just really wanted us to be happy and choose something we loved.”

“So then why did you stay in Overtime?” I ask, curiously, leaning forward and resting my elbow on my knee. I feel like I’m getting more from her than I did the other day when I said more than I’d planned to. “Why step into the machine if you had a free pass to do whatever you wanted?”

“Well, because I love it,” she says simply. “I didn’t want to be an artist or a biologist. I love the energy of being involved in the sports world because I also get to hear inside scoops on strategies, the backgrounds of all the athletes, and, of course, the gossip. Plus, I went to Georgetown and got my degree in business and finance. But my family made me start at the bottom of the talent management division when I came on board. I had to make coffee runs and draft basic contract summaries. I worked seventy-hour weeks to get where I am today. Nobody gave me a free pass. I earned that corner office with hard work.”

“I believe it. You’re amazing at what you do,” I say, my tone dropping into something more serious. “I’ve watched you work with your team, and with veteran agents, and egotistical athletes. You’re a shark, Ellis.”

“Would you feel differently if you knew this shark preferred hockey over football?” she asks, her playfulness bouncing back into the conversation.

I let out a dramatic gasp, resting a hand over my chest, even though she can’t see me. “Ouch. Right in the ribs, Princess. How can you sit there and tell me hockey is better than football? Football is the greatest game on earth.”

“Respectfully, football is ninety seconds of actual physical action strung out over a three-hour commercial break,” she replies smoothly, clearly trying to push my buttons. “Hockey is sixty minutes of non-stop, high-speed chaotic elegance. Men flying around at thirty miles an hour on razor blades, hitting each other into glass walls, is a thing of beauty. When I was at Georgetown, I got tickets to Washington Capitals games every chance I got. I watched the Rangers and Reds growing up, but I became a true fan when I was in DC.”

“Hold up. Chaotic elegance?” I scoff, shaking my head. “It’s guys missing front teeth punching each other in the face over a tiny rubber puck. Football is pure, strategic gameplay. It’s like playing chess with nine-hundred-pound giant athletes moving at lightning speeds. Every single play on that field is a masterpiece of timing, strength, and execution.”

Don’t get me wrong, I actually love hockey, even played growing up all the way through high school, and have some good buddies who play, like Aiden Griffith, but for the sake of this flirtation we have going on, I’ll carry on this faux argument.

I have to wonder, and I won’t ask today, but can she feel the same about the sport considering who the baby’s father is and how he left her?

“Uh-huh,” Ellis says, completely unimpressed. “Keep telling yourself that. If you put a pair of skates on those giant feet of yours, you’d probably fall flat on your face in three seconds.”

“What are you even talking about? I have incredible balance!” I protest, laughing out loud. “I’m an elite Pro-Bowler Tight End. Multiple years in a row, I might add. Also, I was drafted eleventh overall in the first round by the Titans for a reason, Ms. Renwick.”

“And yet five years later, you’re still getting tackled into the freezing mud for a living, probably with bad knees,” she counters, her voice amused. “Meanwhile, hockey players might be scarred and toothless, but they sure do look good when they’re sitting in the penalty box.”

I shake my head with a huge grin on my face. “I can’t believe I spent my afternoon holding your hand at an OB-GYN office while you sat there secretly judging my life’s passion.”

“I wasn’t judging at all. You make my company a lot of money,” she giggles. Actually giggles. “And I do like football. It’s better going to the games than on TV in my opinion, though. Part of the entertainment is being in the stands with the fans.”

“I agree with you there,” I nod to myself. “But actually, I’ll confess. I played hockey growing up, so I have a lot of respect for those guys. The cardio is unlike any other sport. I would lose so much weight during the hockey season even though I ate non-stop.”

“Yeah, they do have a healthy appetite,” she murmurs, her playfulness turning into something softer. “And I am very grateful to you for coming with me. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

A heavy silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It helps calm the knots of stress I’ve been carrying around the past few days.

Then, Buck decides he’s done being ignored and lets out a loud, booming woof that echoes through the room.

“Was that a dog?” Ellis asks, her voice perking up.

“Yeah,” I chuckle, shoving Buck’s massive head away while he jumps up, trying to lick my face. “Sorry. That’s my roommate.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” she says, sounding happy about it. “What kind? What’s its name?”

“His name is Buckeye.” I smile, wrapping my arm around his thick neck to pull him in for a hug while his tail slaps against the couch. “I call him Buck, though. He’s about four years old now. I rescued him from a shelter back when I was home visiting my mom. I’m not sure what made me go in that day, but he’s meant to be mine. He’s my best friend. They told me he’s some kind of German Shepherd-Husky-Retriever mutt. My favorite thing about him is that he’s got one ear that stands straight up like a Shepherd, and one ear that flops over. And he’s spoiled rotten.”