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“Some,” she says hesitantly. “I try to get parents or siblings to sign up, but it doesn’t always pan out.”
“Don’t worry about this one. I’ll set it up. Then you’ll have some tape to watch with the girls and I’ll get to seemy girlin action.” When she stares at me with a look that I think is happy but almost seems sad, I reach across the console and take her hand. “When I want something, I find a way to make it happen. Just wait and see.”
Okay, there’s definitely something up with that look. Even moving into the more residential area near my neighborhood where there aren’t so many lights, I can see it.
“What? You don’t believe I’ll watch?” I’m going to watch the shit out of her game. Hell, maybe I’ll hire someone for all of them.
“No, I believe you.”
That’s good, right? So why have I suddenly got the fucked-up sense that it’s a bad thing?
* * *
Natalie
Vaughn can tellsomething’s off with me. It’s in the way he’s watching me as I pretend to watch highlights in the living room he wouldn’t decorate because he didn’t want to get attached to it. It’s in the way he holds me when we go to bed—tight, like he wants to hold me forever.
It’s in that last questioning look before he kisses me goodbye the next morning. But all I can hear is my brother’s warnings still in my head.
God, I don’t want to let him go.
I don’t want Greg to be right. I don’t want him to take anything else I love away from me.
But even as I think it, I know that’s not fair. Greg isn’t about to take anything from me. All he’s doing is asking me to think about what I want and whether what I’m doing is going to get in the way of it.
Sitting on the edge of the step down to my living room, I send the video call I’ve been avoiding making all day.
I’m about to hang up when Julia’s sunny face fills the screen. “Natalie! How’s the pregame going?”
She’s in LA for a few interviews this week and, based on the mirror and lights behind her, I think she might be in make-up getting ready to shoot. “Oh no, are you at the studio? This can totally wait,” I rush, suddenly wanting to avoid this call.
She waves me off. “Don’t worry. I’ve got time. My player is running late. What’s going on?”
Staring at the screen, I tell myself I’ve already called her. Greg told me to ask, and if something in his warning hadn’t resonated just a little too clearly I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But here I am the next day, still hating the way his words made me feel.
Hating that he might be right.
I take a deep breath and start. “This may not be any of my business, so you can totally tell me to buzz off and I won’t have my feelings hurt.”
Julia pulls a face. “Geez, what do you want to know?” She leans closer to the screen, her eyes going cartoon huge. “Is it something about sex? Oh man, your brother would lose his shit. I mean I won’t tell him, but still—” Her head tips back and, eyes closed, she lets out a delighted laugh.
“I kind of hate to disappoint you, but it’s nothing like that.”
Popping her bottom lip, she shrugs one shoulder. “Okay, let’s have it then.”
“Greg said something yesterday about you guys and I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Sounds serious.”
And that’s the problem. “Jules, you and Greg always seem happy. Like, deliriously so. And Greg, oh my God. It’s actually pretty embarrassing how happy he is. But… he said I should ask you about how things started with you guys. How serious you meant to get about him. And how maybe he broke some of your rules.” I can feel the heat pushing into my cheeks, because this feels like none of my business, but now that I’ve started, I can’t hold the words back. “I know you love him. I do. But I guess what I’m asking is if you have any regrets?”
Suddenly all silliness is gone and Julia’s waving someone I can’t see off as she moves to a more remote corner of the studio. “Nat, honey, where’s this coming from? Is this about that guy from out of town?”
Of course she remembers. I smile, but the way hers disappears tells me she can see right through me. “Let’s say this is about me, okay?”
Her brown eyes are filled with questions, but she doesn’t voice them. “Greg wasn’t part of my plan. In fact, my playbook was pretty specific about avoiding guys like him altogether.”
“Pretty-boy players with egos so big they need a U-Haul to help drag them around?” I tease, even though nothing feels funny to me right now.
