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And just like that, he stood alone in a minefield with no foreseeable path out.
“You must know that I’ve deliberately simplified my personal life these past few years in order to focus on my career.” He set down his fork, realizing he should have paid more attention to the nuances of this conversation.
It wasn’t about the article in the paper. Or about a potential distraction for him on his season opener.
Adelaide was more than a little angry about Valentina.
“You want simple and predictable.” She tapped the heavy band of her engagement ring on the table. “It’s strange that you opted to stage a relationship with me right now since it’s both complicated and unexpected.”
Didn’t she understand that she was nothing like other women he’d been with? He wouldn’t trade this time with her for anything.
“But you’re not like other women, Addy. I trust you not to turn our private affairs into a three-ring circus for your own ends.” He wanted to salvage a good day. He wanted to get back to where they were yesterday, when they’d had dinner with family and then driven each other wild all night long.
“You trust me to keep this simple and be predictable, too.” She shook her head, a smile that was the opposite of happy twisting her lips. She shot out of her chair. “Unbelievable how the Reynaud arrogance has no bounds.”
“Wait a minute.” He stood as well, scrambling to follow her, to understand how he’d hurt her when that was the last thing he’d intended.
“No.” The word was sharp. A short warning that her emotions were seething close to the surface.
He could see it in her face. In her eyes.
“Addy, please. Let me explain.”
“No.” She shook her head, her braid unraveling as she moved, since she hadn’t bothered to wrap a tie around the end. “I’m going to drive separately to the stadium. And when I get there, I will be an excellent assistant, as I’ve always been. I’ll even keep the ring on my finger. But don’t ask me to pretend with you, Dempsey. Not today.”
For a moment, he felt stunned, as if she’d kicked him in the solar plexus.
“What do you mean? You can’t end our agreement—”
“Please.” She held a hand up to stop that line of discussion. “I’m not ending anything except this conversation. But I’m asking you—don’t put me on the spot today, okay? I might not be as predictable as you’d like to think.”
* * *
Members of the media rushed onto the field after the Hurricanes won 21–17 in their home opener against the defending Super Bowl champs. Adelaide watched from the sidelines, a rare spot for her, since her duties were more behind-the-scenes. But after her exchange with Dempsey over breakfast that morning, she had been reminded that in three more weeks, she would no longer have a role on the team. She might never have the chance to witness a game from this vantage point again.
Rap music blared from the speakers in the stands, adding to the celebratory mood. Fans whooped it up with one another. While some headed out to the parking lots to party or drive home, many hardcore followers remained in the stands, getting as close to the field as ushers would allow.
A photographer with a camera and a big plastic sound shield shuffled past her, his lens trained on Dempsey where he shook hands with the opposing team’s coach. A coach who did not look happy. The guy’s face was still red after a screaming match with a ref about a pass-interference call that had not happened.
But the Hurricanes’ game one was in the books. Dempsey and his team were off to the start he’d wanted for this season, the start that meant so much to him. Logically, she understood why. He’d always felt like an outsider in the Reynaud family, working relentlessly to prove he belonged, that his father had not made a mistake in plucking him out of that crappy apartment down the street from hers.
Yet, she couldn’t help but think that if St. Roch Avenue wasn’t good enough for him, then she wasn’t good enough for him either. He’d dated one beautiful woman after another for years, never looking at Adelaide twice until she tried to quit. Hearing his easy defense of Valentina this morning had brought that hurt to the surface. When Adelaide’s time with Dempsey was through, he’d go right back to women who were simple, predictable and from a much different world than hers.
She had no illusions about his ability to move on. She’d seen him do that plenty of times. But she seriously doubted hers.
Heading for the door that led into the medical staff’s offices and bypassed the locker-room area, Adelaide picked up her pace when she saw a female reporter charging toward her, a cameraman in tow. Seriously?
