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I took a seat on one of the stools at the island. “I have plenty of savings. I’m fine.”
Mom straightened a pewter basket that had fake fruit in it. “Where are you going to live? Do you want to come back here while you look for a place?”
It had never occurred to me that I’d need to move out of Tiller’s place, but if I no longer worked for him, what did that mean exactly? I couldn’t exactly go from a live-in personal chef to a live-in boyfriend without an actual conversation.
Could I?
“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter right now anyway,” I said dismissively. “I’m headed back to Colorado. I actually… have a lead on a possible job there. I don’t know. We’ll see.” It was at least a quick way of getting her off my back about work.
Her face lit up. “Oh honey, that’s fantastic. Although… I’m not sure I’d be okay with you living so far away. I’d miss you terribly.”
While it was nice of her to say it, I wasn’t sure I believed it. She rarely called me or invited me anywhere. She definitely enjoyed it when I came over for a visit, but it was never reciprocated despite my inviting her over for meals many times to taste-test new recipes or even have an old favorite I knew she liked.
I guess part of me was wondering if the worst came to pass—if Dad sent Tiller off to another team in another city—could I, would I, go with him? The answer was yes, if he’d have me. At this point I knew well enough to know I didn’t want to be apart from Tiller at all. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine it.
Life without Tiller? No, thanks.
“Bring him to Galveston,” Mom said. “We have plenty of room.”
I tilted my head at her. “What do you mean, Galveston?”
“You know, the big rental house we arranged for Christmas.” She flapped her hand as if she’d already told me this, but I would have remembered. She definitely had not told me this.
“No, I don’t know.”
She fussed with a houseplant on the counter in front of her. “Well, your father and I have rented a house on the water for the week of Christmas. All your brothers are coming so we can have a big family do. Won’t that be nice?”
I refused to have hurt feelings over being left out. “Were you going to tell me about this big family gathering? Ever?”
Maybe I wasn’t as mature as I’d hoped.
“If I recall, you were supposed to be in Colorado for the holiday. It must have slipped my mind. But the two of you can come now, and you can introduce Tiller to your family.”
“They all know him already, and I’m not sure Coach would be as welcoming as you are.”
“Nonsense, dear. You don’t give your father enough credit. He wants what’s best for you.”
I didn’t bother to argue with her because part of me wanted her to be right. She wasn’t.
After I left my parents’ house, I headed straight to the Rigger practice facility to try and catch my dad during the hours he was in his office. Once midday came and went, he was usually on the field or working with special teams.
I ignored the little floaty hearts swimming around in my heart when I saw Tiller’s old pickup truck with its illustrated bumper sticker that featured an oddly sexual-looking pile of fresh veggies on it that read, “I feel good from my head tomatoes.” I’d gotten it in a welcome letter when I’d registered for a nutrition seminar, and Sam had dared me to put it on the truck one night after we’d had a little too much red wine.
The fact Tiller had laughed and kept it on his grandpa’s beloved truck was a testament to his love of people over things. I loved that about him. He was one of the highest-paid players in the league, and you’d barely know it from his worn jeans, team tees, and half-broke Chevy.
Seeing the familiar pickup truck boosted my confidence. Tiller and I had been in each other’s lives for five years now. This wasn’t a flash-in-the-pan situation with a stranger. His position on the team was solid. My career as a professional chef had several different lucrative possibilities, meaning I didn’t need to work for him anymore to make a living. We would be fine. There was no reason not to support us in a relationship.
I smiled at the security staff as I entered the building and stopped several times to exchange pleasantries with players and members of the staff as I made my way down to Dad’s office. His assistant, Noreen, was almost as bad as Mrs. Nibert when it came to bending an ear, so I tried nipping a chat in the bud by walking right past her with a wave as if I was in a great hurry.
