Page 95 of The Holiday Makeover

Do you ever think about the football career you almost had?

What did losing that dream teach you?

What has your parents’ support meant to you throughout your career?

A rough laugh almost broke out of me as I thought of all the lies I would have to tell to sell this damn homecoming special. But I was done with the lies. And I was done talking about the football career that never happened. All I could think about was the life with Rory that never happened.

The one that never would if I didn’t do something.

So I did something.

I pulled the lav mic from my shirt, unclipped the transmitter from my waistband, and let it drop to the floor.

The smack of it against the hardwood made every head in the room turn toward me.

Raina, one of the techs, rushed over as if this was just an equipment malfunction that needed to be fixed.

No. Something much bigger needed fixing.

I held up a hand before she could reach for it. “It’s okay. I’m not doing the interview.”

Quinton blinked as if he’d misunderstood me.

So I said it again, clearer this time. “If the network isn’t happy with me or the ratings, they’re free not to renew my contract.”

“Son, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Dad cut in.

I turned toward him. “Actually, for the first time in a long time, I know exactly what I’m saying.”

“You don’t want to give this up,” he said sharply.

“No.” I held his gaze. “You don’t want me to.”

The room went still.

“But I’m tired of living for what you want. Tired of doing whatever I think will finally make you proud of me.” My voice gained more courage with every word. “I walked away from the woman I love because I was so afraid to disappoint you. So afraid to fail again. And in the end, I failed at the one thing that should have mattered most.”

I swallowed hard.

“Rory.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom beaming.

Everyone else just gaped at me like I’d lost my mind.

In reality, I had finally found it. My own mind, that is.

“So I’ll leave you to talk about what a disappointment I am. I have a house to renovate and a woman to love, if she’ll still have me.”

I turned and strode into the hall toward the front door, finally making my escape. And finally realizing Coco had been right. I didn’t need the roar of the crowd. But I did need Rory’s whispers.

“Tate,” Mom called, rushing toward me.

I turned, and she threw her arms around my middle.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “And I am proud of you. Very proud.”

I let my arms wrap around her. It was the first time in a long time that any affection between us had felt genuine. Like she wasn’t trying to manage the moment or look perfect for someone watching. It just felt like she was being my mom.