AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Complications like what?”
I give my head a slight shake. “It would be unethical for me to date him. I’m the lawyer for his football team. That would be a conflict of interest. I’m not willing to risk my career over a guy.” Especially not after Luke.
Hell—I practically ran away from my dream life in New York just to be free of him. The last thing I need is to throw another romance-shaped wrench in my career path.
My grandmother pouts at me. “Work always comes first with you, doesn’t it, dear? It’s always your main consideration.”
“It is,” I say. Unapologetically. “My career has always been there for me. Men haven’t.”
Whenever I walked out of a date feeling like I wasn’t enough, I had my professional wins to fall back on. Whenever a relationship ended and left me doubting myself, my job validated me. If I didn’t have my career anymore, what would I have to fall back on then?
“When I met my first husband, I wasn’t looking for marriage,” Granny says. “I was ready to be the first girl in our family to go to college, and go take over the world. But all that changed when I met your Papa. I just knew. Or I thought I did. We all know how badly that turned out.”
“So…if I meet someone who makes me want to give up my career, he’ll be the one?” I ask skeptical of her advice.
“No. No.” Granny swats the air. “You’re missing the point. Don’t you go changing anything about your life for some man. The right one will fit into yours.”
I purse my lips, nodding, choosing not to point out the hypocrisy in that. It’s okay. Granny was so proud when I finished college. My biggest fan. I know she’s only looking out for me.
“But this Harry fellow is so damn cute.” Delores reasons, smiling playfully. “Can’t she make an exception?”
“No exceptions,” I say. Not even for Harry Westbrook.
Granny releases a dense breath. “I was like you for a long, long time. Afraid to let love in after your grandfather left me. I got comfortable in my loneliness and I practically let my whole life pass me by. I didn’t start living again until I was eighty-three. That’s when I met my Edward.” A luminous smile takes over her face at the mention of her new(ish) husband.
The entire family was skeptical when Granny met Edward a few short years ago. Wedding invitations popped up in our mailboxes merely months after that and we were convinced Granny had lost her damn mind. But since the two of them got married, it’s given my grandmother a second wind. She’s happier and more youthful than I’ve ever seen her. I guess that’s the effect of true love.
She squeezes my shoulder and speaks in a grave voice. “It took meeighty-threeyears to find my true sweetheart, Nadi. Eighty-three years. I pray you don’t have to wait that long.”
Delores speaks up. “What Nancy is trying so sweetly to say is, your panties are in a bunch, Nadia. All your strict rules and high standards are cutting off circulation to your woman bits. Wedgie-ing the heck out of your love life.” Delores tosses a sparkly green g-string at my chest. “You need to loosen up a little. While you’re still young. And flexible.”
Granny nods in agreement, rubbing her lower back. “Tell me about it. What I wouldn’t give to be flexible again…” she says. One glance at the lecherous look on her face and I don’tdareto wonder what she might be getting at.
Later on at night, when I’m curled up under a blanket on my couch with my wine glass and my stack of documents to review, I’m still replaying that conversation.
It took me eighty-three years to find my true sweetheart, Nadi. Eighty-three years.
I feel a pang of fear deep in my belly when the full impact of Granny’s words finally hits me. I’m 32 now. I’ll be 83 in fifty-one years—if I’m lucky. I can’t wait another 51 years to meet my person!
I comfort myself by trying to believe that it’ll happen when it happens. That I shouldn’t just jump on the first good-looking man who glances my way just because I’m scared I’ll end up alone.
But I can’t get Harry’s face off my mind. I know I shouldn’t want him but…but…I do. I’d never act on that attraction, though. I have way too much to lose.
Fuck the butterflies. And fuck the tingly feelings. And fuck the way my heart pounds when he’s too close.
Grabbing the remote, I turn the volume on the TV really high, hoping to drown out my thoughts. On theSports Broadcast Network, they’re playing highlights from a bunch of recent games. I let the sports announcers ramble on in the background as I make a little bit of headway on my contract revisions.
I check my work emails during a commercial break. I scroll through my phone with one hand, flagging urgent communications to handle first thing tomorrow, while eating my popcorn with my other hand.
A kernel of popcorn falls, landing on my boobs, and I dig it out, managing to get salt and butter all over my cleavage. I pop the deviant piece of popcorn into my mouth and grunt. No point in cleaning up my buttery boobs; no doubt I’ll drop more before the game’s over.
Oh, if my work colleagues and business contacts could see me now…I’ve cultivated a reputation around town for being professional. Some even call me intimidating. But I sure am a mess when I’m by myself.
I can’t lie—I love these moments alone, where I don’t need the mask and I don’t need the shield I arm myself with when I’m out in the world. I love these moments when I can just be my imperfect self. With no-one to judge me.
I wipe my fingers on my pajama pants and smile when an email catches my attention. It’s an invitation to a charity gala that I go to every year. It’s one that I hold near and dear to my heart and I look forward to this annual gala.
I skim through the details, so I can add the date to both my personal and work calendars. As usual, the Paragons will need to be involved too, as this gala has ties to the children’s charity I set up for the team’s community presence a couple years ago.
