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I pull out the agenda for the weekend, and while I don’t see massages on the schedule, I do see group activities like fishing and enjoying s’mores around the campfire, which sound fun. “I haven’t been fishing in probably two decades,” I confess, watching as the rest of the team gets checked into the lodge.
Nathan gives me a look full of skepticism. “I’ve never been. I don’t even know how to cast or bait the hook. We can be partners.”
“I’m thinking you’d probably want someone with a little more experience,” I reply with a chuckle.
He shrugs. “We can fumble through it together.” Nathan offers me a quick smile, but I don’t see anything that might indicate he’s flirting with me. He’s about seven years older and has been with Premier for almost ten years now. I’ve been told he was offered one of the senior advertising executive positions years ago, but he turned it down because he didn’t want to lose evenings and weekends with his family.
“I appreciate it.” I chuckle, just as Jennifer calls our attention to gather together.
“Once everyone has checked in, you can get settled in your rooms. We’ll meet back down here in the lobby at five to six. The restaurant is expecting us at six for dinner. After that, you’re free for the rest of the evening. You can explore the lodge and the grounds, take advantage of the pool, or whatever you want. Then, we meet down here at seven sharp to begin our weekend,” Jennifer announces to the seven other team members in the lobby.
I’ve only been with Premier for a few days but I feel right at home. Instantly, I liked Jennifer. She displayed all the right attributes as a leader, and that opinion has only been reinforced since that first day. I’m truly looking forward to getting to know my coworkers better this weekend.
“See you guys in a bit.” With my keycard and luggage in hand, I head for my room. We’re all on the ground floor, our rooms situated together down one entire hall, probably to encourage continual communication and togetherness.
The rooms are exactly as I’d pictured, in light of the décor in the lobby. The bed is king-sized, with rustic bedposts and abedspread featuring bears, deer, and other wildlife. The walls are painted your standard beige color, and the furniture is different hues of brown wood. Even though it’s not my taste, I’m super excited to be here. It’s all about the experience.
However, I do still miss Brock like crazy.
Even though I saw him just a handful of hours ago, I feel like a part of me is missing, which is silly, considering we’ve been together for such a short time. But he’s different than anyone I’ve ever known or dated. I’m not dependent on him, but I feel more complete when we’re together.
I also know these absences are good for us. His job will take him away too many times to count, and if I can’t get by without him, that’s a problem. However, it doesn’t feel like a problem to me. Sure, I miss him, but I’m anxious and excited about this trip. I love my job. It’s a part of who I am, and even though Brock has mentioned me not having to work, he’s not pushed it. I think he knows how much I truly love doing what I do.
Just as I start to unpack my suitcase, my phone chimes with a text.
Brock:Just landed in Seattle. Miss you.
Me:Glad you made it safe. I’m unpacking now. We have a group dinner at six.
Brock:I’ll be at practice until then. Talk after?
Me:I’ll call when I get back to my room.
Brock:FaceTime. I want to see your gorgeous face.
Me:Deal. Love you.
Brock:Love you more.
I can’t stop smiling. We’ll both be back home Sunday evening. The Ramblers play the early game on Sunday, so they’ll be flying back home afterward, which is why they left on Friday instead of Saturday. Just over forty-eight hours until I can kiss those lips again.
I barely set my phone down before another message pops up. This one from my best friend.
Taylor:You couldn’t at least smile a little? You look like you sucked on a lemon right before this shot was taken.
A moment later, the photo pops up. Yeah, it’s definitely not a flattering one. My face is slightly puckered and my eyes squinty. I recognize it immediately. It’s one similar to those already published after our disastrous dinner with my mom and dad last Saturday night. It only took approximately two hours before the first photos went viral. Fortunately, the previous photo wasn’t nearly this bad. This one, however, makes me look angry, sad, and disgusted, all at the same time.
Me:Jeez, that’s a terrible pic! I swear they only post the most unflattering shots.
Taylor:It’s the downside of being famous.
Me:I’m not famous.
Taylor:Maybe not to you, but your dad is pretty famous, your mom the field bunny who had an affair with a famous player, and you’re shagging one of the most famous current players on the roster. I’d say that makes you famous too, sweet cheeks.
I groan, hating her logic. Mostly because it’s true. I’ve had cameras focused on me since I was in diapers. Everyone tried to get pictures of the daughter of pro-footballer Richard Henderson. Especially when said daughter was born from an affair. The public scandal still gets notoriety. In fact, I remember once in junior high, I overheard another mom call my mom Monica. It took me years before I realized she was referring to Monica Lewinsky, infamous White House intern who had an affair with President Clinton.
Me:I don’t like you anymore.
