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WREN
Freezing rain pelted the windshield of my SUV as we pulled away from LaGuardia Airport. Despite the warm air blasting from the vents, a stubborn chill clung to me.
A shiver ran down my spine. Antigua had been a dream, and the brisk New England weather was an unwelcome wake-up call. I pulled my coat tight around my body.
Our clothes and luggage still carried the scent of travel—a mix of instant coffee, circulated air, and exhaust fumes from the airport. It was an odd olfactory trigger that had me wanting Tatum to turn the SUV around and head back to the airport so we could jet off somewhere far away.
Nostalgia enveloped my mind like a warm blanket. The last four days gave me a taste of normalcy with Tatum, and I wanted more. More kisses on the beach; more lazy strolls through quaint shops; more conversations over dinner at hole-in-the-wall restaurants; more days not worrying about creepy reporters trying to make a name for themselves. I rested my forehead against the passenger window and stared at the passing scenery.
Tatum merged onto I-95 and headed north to Rhode Island. He reached across the console and took my hand. “What’s on your mind, Little Bird?”
My fingers intertwined with his. His comforting touch made me thankful that Gideon and Heidi offered to drive his Camaro back to Providence so Tatum and I could ride together. “I just don’t want to go back,” I muttered.
“Go back to what?” he asked and grazed my hand with his thumb. The gentle, back-and-forth motion soothed me.
“Life.”
He gave me a heart-stopping smile. “We have eighteen hours before life begins again.”
We cruised along the Connecticut coastline and settled into a comfortable silence. My mind wandered back to our time in Antigua.
Bye week had been a much-needed reprieve from the stress of keeping our love a secret. Throwing caution to the wind felt wonderful, but it sucked knowing things wouldn’t be that way in Providence.
I didn’t crave the attention of being known as T.J.Bryant Jr.’s girlfriend. He was just Tatum to me. But I wanted to be able to go out the way we had on the island. We did manage to have dinner with Gideon and Heidi on the last night of the trip. The four of us had the glow that came from being able to spend time with the ones we loved. I wanted to bottle it up.
Between island sexcapades, we cuddled in our bungalow and looked through the spaces that Colette and I saw potential in for the new branch of Colette James Design.
The prospect of leading a venture in an exploding market should’ve thrilled me but doubt still loomed in my mind. I wanted to be excited. I wanted to be all-in. But going all-in for someone else meant I was putting my own dreams on the back burner. I was selling myself short. Colette was a fantastic boss, but it would always be her dream I was building. Not my own.
There was safety in helping someone else chase their dreams. It required no risk. If things fell apart, the responsibility fell on someone else’s shoulders. I’d only have to find a new job while they’d carry the weight of failure.
Still, if I had made the safe choice when I met Tatum, we wouldn’t have fallen in love. I would’ve lived my entire life without knowing the joy I could have had. Nothing about that thought seemed safe to me.
It terrified me. At least failure meant you tried.
Safety limited life.
When we took a walk down the beach, Tatum had been adamant about me not meeting his parents. I would have been lying if I said that I wasn’t a little disappointed. I wanted to see where he came from. But if he didn’t want those worlds to cross, I had to respect that.
I wanted Tatum to meet my dad, but logically I knew it should happen after the season ended. February was only a few months away. Waiting would keep our complicated tangles of life from getting tighter.
February…
It loomed in the distance as both a blessing and a curse.
In February, I’d have choices to make. Would I retire from the Ladies in Red or commit to another season? Another season of having to hide my relationship with Tatum.
Colette would need an answer, too. Did I really want the job in New York?
And Tatum… Would he get another season with the Reds? Would he be traded? What if he got injured?
The Ladies in Red had given me a front-row seat to some gruesome, career-ending injuries. If it were Tatum being carried away on a gurney, I didn’t know if I could keep my game face on.
It was different when it was a faceless man under a helmet. But Tatum and I knew each other intimately, body and soul. He wasn’t just a name on a jersey. A number. A face for sponsors. He was more than football.
He was my love.
Tatum switched lanes and took an unexpected turn off the interstate. We’d only just crossed the border into Rhode Island and were nowhere near home.
