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“You didn’t even know I was alive for years!” I burst out.
He raised a brow, but it didn’t stop him from smiling. “Oh, I knew you were alive. Remember that time at Tahoe when you slipped into my bed, wearing those tiny shorts and tank top?” He scoffed fondly and looked away, shaking his head. “You nearly killed me.”
My jaw was completely open. “Abe. I told you I loved you and you shut me down.”
He grinned at me and reached out to caress my cheek. “That was because I didn’t understand then that I loved you back. I was confused and young and an idiot, and I was moving across the country. And you were so damn perfect and I was terrified.” He shrugged. “I figured it out pretty quick.”
“You did,” I said flatly, not because I felt flat but because my emotions were so haywire that it was either flat or flailing widely. “Quick. It was four years before we spoke again.”
“Well. I needed to figure out my shit. You needed a life without me. I needed to grow up. And I knew that when I did, I’d find you again.”
“How?”
He grinned at my indignant tone. “I always knew where you were, Tammy. I knew I’d know if a guy popped into the picture. I knew that when it was time, we would happen.”
I was still trying to rearrange my view of his worldview to align with what he was saying. “And what if I didn’t move to New York? How long were you going to wait? Forever?”
He looked sheepish. “Well. I had a deadline. If you didn’t come back into my life by next New Year’s, I was going to get back into yours. I figured five years was enough time.”
“You’re crazy,” I burst out, but I was grinning.
He placed his hands on my waist and pulled me closer to him. “You told me once that I was emotionally a bad choice, because you didn’t think I’d be as invested as you were. You wanted a relationship with someone who was head-over-heels in love with you.” He paused and smiled. “I thought about telling you that I was, but I didn’t want to scare you. I didn’t think you’d believe me. But it’s true, Tamar. I am mad about you. You make me feel like the moon to the sun—I’m nothing without you, dark and lifeless.”
I traced a line down his chest. “You love me,” I said in wonderment. “You really love me?”
He placed the sweetest, truest kiss in the history of kisses to my lips.
I drew back, and I was still smiling, crazy smiling. I thought I might smile forever. “Abraham...was that a marriage proposal earlier?”
He smiled that lingering smile that reached his eyes and my heart. “I’ve had a long time to think about this. You haven’t.”
I could feel the pounding of my heart against my rib cage, and I knew I’d only have one response as long as it beat. “I still know what my answer would be.”
His smile widened. “That’s good to know.”
* * *
The Leopards had revoked my press p
rivileges to their properties, and they could pressure other venues to refuse me entrance, as well, but they couldn’t keep me out of the annual Sports in New York party. SNY was going into its ninth year, and all the major sports media showed up, as did major celebrities from all the city’s teams. This year, it was being hosted by the Darlington department store, one of the largest downtown. It was an exquisite building with windows that had been flown over from France and polished marble tiles. They cleared out the first floor for us, and filled it with pennants and food.
I could have stayed home and avoided running into an abundance of awkwardness, but that didn’t appeal to me. Nor to Tanya who, per her MO, gave it to me straight. “You can either wimp around or you can keep doing your job.”
I chose the latter.
But it was hard, walking around the room and realizing I was being very purposefully shunned, not just by the Leopards, but by the other football teams, as well. While other sports players weren’t as obvious about it, it was very clear that no one wanted to be tainted by me. They didn’t kick me out, but they cast a wide berth. Where before, they had regarded me as a helpless, almost cuddly guppy, floundering flounder, they now seemed convinced they’d been mistaken, that I’d turned into a shark with a taste for flesh. Of the feline variety, if you will.
Abraham was there, of course, but I’d firmly told him that he wasn’t to come near me no matter the provocation. If no one knew we were together, no one could hate him. Simple as that.
He’d agreed because I’d pulled Lysistrata’s old ploy and told him we wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed if he didn’t behave. He clearly didn’t believe me, but it did drive home that this was important to me. So instead, he stood lurking in a corner, trying not to be so obvious about watching me. So far, I wasn’t impressed, but it did shore up my nerve.
I was trying to keep my shoulders square and work up the nerve to approach one of the guys for a word, even if mostly expletives spewed out. But as I plucked a fortifying mini-cannoli from the buffet, the velvety, textured tones of Gregory Philip swept over me. “Well, if it isn’t Ms. Rosenberg.”
My vocal cords hardened too much to correct his mistake, and I barely managed a brittle smile as I turned to face him. “Mr. Philip.”
His smile was smoother, but no more sincere. “I’m surprised you made it.”
I strove for flippant. “The weather’s not that bad.”
