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Once they were gone, I wandered around through the ballroom. People must have noticed that I arrived with the two football stars, because I drew long glances as I weaved through the crowd to the bar.
But after getting a glass of white wine, nobody looked twice at me. I even seemed to be invisible to the wait staff, as I had to practically wave in one’s face to get them to stop and serve me a mini-quiche. No matter how good I looked in the dress, it must have been immediately obvious that I wasn’twitheither of the players. The other guests probably thought I was one of their agents, or publicist.
So much for being nervous about all the attention.
For a little while, being invisible was a relief. I nursed my glass of wine and had two more mini-quiches, and three other appetizers served on toothpicks. Braden was right: I felt like I could eat a hundred of these and still not sate my appetite.
I made my way over to a display table that was positioned against one wall and spent a few minutes learning about the charity. They sponsored after-school football leagues for at-risk teenagers in the St. Louis area, with specialized classes to learn new skills and even coaching strategies. As I looked around the room, I noticed that many teenagers benefiting from the program were in attendance, ranging from age ten to sixteen and looking sharp in their own tuxedos. I wondered if Braden and Christian really believed in this program, or if they were required to attend.
Yet after wandering around for nearly an hour, I began to wish I wasn’t so invisible. I tried joining a few clusters of conversation, but the topics were exclusively related to football and modern high school programs—two things I had zero experience in. I always stood there without anything to contribute, hoping someone would turn to me and ask what I did for a living. But nobody did.
After my second wine, I pulled out my phone and considered calling Suzie to make sure everything was okay back at the kennel. The only thing that stopped me was that I didn’t want to seem like I was hovering. If my business was going to be a success, I needed to learn to delegate responsibilities and trust that they would be handled. Besides, I had given Suzie my personal phone number on a sheet of paper in the office. If she needed anything, she could reach me.
When I put my phone back in my clutch, I noticed the stack of business cards there. I had ordered them with next-day shipping to make sure they arrived before this event, but I hadn’t given any away. Heck, I hadn’t evenspokento anyone at the party except for the bartender and two waiters.
The longer I stood by myself in a corner, the more I began to feel sorry for myself. It reminded me of my Senior Prom, when I went by myself and nobody asked me to dance. Nobody knew me here, which should have saved me from any humiliation, but I still couldn’t help but feel like a loser.
I began to think about all the things I could have been doing if I had stayed home. I needed to sit down and figure out how to run ads for my business. I still had to create a Google Maps account and register my business, so customers could find me if they ran a search. I was running low on all sorts of supplies, but now that I had some good cash flow, I needed to stock up on dog food, bones, treats, and special canine shampoo. Not to mention all the renovations that needed to be done to my grandma’s house. Once I cleaned out all the stuff she had hoarded, there were still a million small upgrades that needed to be made to make it livable. Things I had put on the back burner while I focused on getting the boarding business up and running.
Maybe I should just leave.
I hated to ditch Christian and Braden, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. They were both on the other side of the room, laughing with one of the linemen, his supermodel date, and two teenagers from the program. I didn’t want to bother Christian, especially at an event like this. And he hadn’t checked in on me like he promised he would.
Certainty grew within me, so I finished my wine and made my way toward the entrance to retrieve my coat. “Not having a good time?” he asked while taking my ticket.
I shrugged. “I guess it’s not my style.”
The coat check guy disappeared into the closet. A moment later, Christian appeared by my side and tugged on my sleeve. “Hey! Are you leaving?” he asked with a puzzled smile.
“Um, no. I was just checking to see if I left my lipstick in my coat pocket.”
“Here you are, ma’am!” the coat guy said, holding up my coat with a big smile. “Sorry you didn’t have a great time at the event.”
I winced and turned back to Christian. “Okay, yes. I was about to call an Uber.”
“What? Why?” he asked. “Are people not receptive to your business?”
“That’s the thing… I haven’t talked withanyone,” I replied. “I tried joining a few conversations, but mostly people just ignore me. I don’t really belong at an event like this.”
“Shit.” Christian handed my coat back to the attendant and guided me back into the room. “Why didn’t you come talk to me?”
“I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“I’m sorry. I thought this night would be a lot more fun, but it’s mostly work for me and Braden. Not that we don’t enjoy this sort of thing, but we’re kind of on the clock. We’ve been trying to put in some face time with everybody here.”
“It’s okay!” I said. “I wasn’t blaming you.”
He accepted two glasses of wine from a nearby server and handed one to me. “Being a quarterback is so much more work than what you see on the field. I’m a leader. The face of the team. When we lose, I get most of the blame. When we win, like in the last two weeks, I get most of the credit. Even when I don’t deserve it. The whole thing is exhausting, and the pressure is enormous.” He sighed, and I could see just how exhausted he was as he gazed around the room. “There’s even more pressure since the Colts moved to a new city. Half the fans are cheering for us, but the other half are rooting for us to fail because they think we’re villains. Sometimes I miss Indianapolis.”
I put a comforting hand on his arm. I had always assumed professional athletes had extremely cushy lives. I never thought about the kind of pressure they felt.
Christian gave himself a shake, then turned back to me. “Sorry. I’m rambling. You really haven’t talked toanyonehere?”
“Just the bartender and two servers. Which, if you really think about it, are the people that truly matter.”
He grinned, then put a hand on my back and guided me forward. “Let’s fix that. Theresa! I want you to meet someone. This is Beth Foster. She’s the unofficial dog boarder for the River City Colts, and I know you were just telling me about your Cocker Spaniel…”
For the next ten minutes, Christian introduced me to a bunch of people that he had met. It turned out that he wasn’t ignoring me all night—he was scouting all the rich donors to the charity who also had dogs.
