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An hour later, I realize why the game caught my attention in that Uber on the way to my parents’ party.
Today’s opponent is the Texas Rangers.
One day that won’t make me smile and hurt at the same time.
Today is not that day.
TWENTY-SEVEN
CARTE BLANCHE
LAYTON
Emberleigh, Braxton’s fiancée, sits at the dining table in Pop’s kitchen tapping away on a laptop as if this is a regular occurrence when I putter in to grab something to drink. She has an office at his house and, to my knowledge, doesn’t ever work here. She’s hell on wheels when it comes to damage control, public relations, and image rehabilitation.
Her presence signifies yet another thing I don’t want to consider. Namely, my reputation, my public image, needs rehabbing.
Or, if I’m lucky—I scoff at the word—she just needs a quiet place to work, and Colt’s activity and chatter make that hard at her house, and she prefers the company of the curmudgeon I’m becoming.
“Hey.” It’s an offering. I haven’t lost all my manners, even if Pop thinks I have.
“Hey. Can I grab you something to drink?” She rises from the table to give me a quick hug. She doesn’t linger and moves quickly into action. “Iced tea? Coffee? Water?”
“Coffee.” It comes out as a grumble, so I quickly add, “Thanks.” I stand, shifting weight from foot to foot, not knowing what trap I’ve stumbled into.
I’m not happy about it, but my sister-in-law-to-be is on a mission. “Take a seat. I’ll bring it to you. How do you take it?”
“Black please.” Aiming for a distraction, I throw out a question I don’t really want an answer to. “How are the wedding plans coming?”
“Well, we’re in a holding pattern at the moment.” She gazes down at her ring. “I have enough contacts and manage enough big events that our small family affair won’t be too challenging.”
“You call more than one hundred and fifty guests a small affair?” I ask as she sets a mug of coffee on the table in front of me, alongside a scoop of peach cobbler with a dollop of whipped cream.
“Easy enough. We’ve weathered far more challenging things.”
She’s talking about the challenges last fall on the ranch and then again a few months later.
“Fair enough.” I sip the coffee, dealing with the hunger that roils in my belly alongside the nausea that perpetually settled in my gut months ago.
“I was hoping to talk with you about a few things.” She bites her bottom lip, hesitant to continue. She’s a tiny thing but formidable nonetheless.
I bite the inside corner of my mouth and look between her and the coffee, lifting the cup in a salute. “Shoot.”
“Did you know your agent reached out to Pop?”
My head snaps up to hold her gaze. I shake my head twice before the nausea roils again.
“I only know this since I was here with Colt when the call came in. You know those two are thick as thieves.” Her voice trails away as she waits for more from me.
“Go on.”
“George was beside himself when he couldn’t reach you. Said he tried emailing you and texting you. Those went unreturned. His calls went unanswered. He said he sent packages to your apartment and never got a response.”
“And?”
“Well, he was concerned when he couldn’t reach you, for obvious reasons, and because y’all are friends. That’s, in my estimation, what prompted Pop and Exton to go to Florida to bring you home.”
I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth until I can feel the soreness in my cheekbones. Fucking hell. No one will leave me be. It’s constant interference in my life.
