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“I’m sure if she was seeing someone, she’d tell you,” Lee says.
“Not necessarily,” Brady says. “Maybe she doesn’t want the headache of Miles’s interrogation.”
Miles frowns. “I just want to make sure she’s with someone who knows her value and treats her right.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say. Weirdly, Miles and I agree on that point.
I’m not the guy for Twyla, which is what makes what’s been going on between us so conflicting. Twyla deserves some supersmart guy who works in finance and wears a suit to work. Not a guy who grew up in the middle of nowhere, scraped by in school, and has barely acceptable social skills because he doesn’t like most people.
That woman blooms when she’s around other people, and someone like me would only hold her back. Eventually she’d be unhappy and resent me. She should be with someone who doesn’t have to be as selfish about his career as I do. Professional football takes a lot of work and commitment and there’s a lot of travel involved. Sure, my career is destined to be over at a younger age than most, but even then, I hope to get on a team as a coach.
Point is, I can’t make her happy long term, so what the hell am I doing messing around with her in the short term? Especially when her brother is my friend and teammate and would literally cut off my nuts if he found out.
“See, Chase gets it.” Miles motions across the table at me and I feel like an even bigger dirtbag.
My phone vibrates on the table, saving me from having to respond. I lean back and turn it over to see who it is. Thank God I purposely turned my phone face down on the lunch table in case Twyla called or texted me because it’s her.
Twyla: Good news. That lead Carly gave me came through. I talked to the mom and stopped by the house earlier to check it out. Zeus has a new home.
For some reason, even though that cat is a pain in my ass, my chest tightens at the thought of him no longer lounging around and spreading cat hair around my place. I type out my response.
Me: You okay with that?
She responds immediately.
Twyla: Kinda sad. I really love that guy.
I picture Twyla curled up on the couch at her place and frowning, and I want to fix it for her.
Me: Want me to drop him off at his new home? Might be easier for you.
Twyla: Would you really do that?
Me: Of course. When do you have to bring him?
Twyla: I said I’d do it tonight.
Me: Consider it done.
Twyla: You’re the best. Thank you.
I don’t know what this foreign feeling in my chest is, but it kind of reminds me of when I had a wing-eating contest with one of the linemen last year.
“Who are you texting, man?” Lee asks.
I set my phone face down on the table. “No one you know.” The lie slips off my tongue easily and I shift the conversation to Sunday’s game against Atlanta.
I’m not sure if I’m pleased or appalled by how easy it is to pretend I’m not the worst friend ever.
Twyla sits on the floor of my condo, cuddling Zeus with unshed tears. My chest aches and it has nothing to do with how many bench presses I did earlier today.
“I’m going to miss you.” She kisses the top of his head, then presses her cheek there. She looks up at me. “He’s gotten so big since he’s been here.”
I stare down at her, hands on my hips. “Yeah. I would’ve liked to see how big he ends up being.” It’s kind of cool having a big-ass cat.
“I made the family taking him promise to send me pictures from time to time, so I can forward them on to you if you want.” She raises her eyebrows.
I nod. “Sure, you do that.” I’m not sure I feel it necessary to keep up with the cat, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t mind keeping up with Twyla once she leaves.
