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“He shows up to tell you how it ends in person,” a low voice rumbles from over my shoulder.
I turn around slowly, my emotions a hectic tangle of anger and regret and love. Barrett Fox stands in the doorway of the conference room wearing the same suit from his ESPN interview.
“It’s prerecorded, Kitty Cat. I’m fast, but not that fast.” His sideways smile wrings out my already spent heart.
“How did you get in?” I ask numbly.
“Mia owed me a favor.” He spears her with a glare. “And this better be on the record.”
“I’ll report every word,” Nanci aims her iPhone at us, probably video recording this for posterity.
“I don’t think so,” I tell Barrett as I start for the exit. “You had your chance.”
“I know.” He blocks the doorway with one arm. “I blew it. Big time.”
“I remember. I was there.” I steel myself against the smell of his cologne, against his very presence. Despair has been swamping me since the day I left him standing on the boiling hot asphalt. Since I blocked his number on my cellphone, and ignored a voicemail from Dax’s adorable wife, Becca. I added Barrett’s name to the “no entry” list at my apartment building and instructed everyone in this office not to patch his calls through to me.
“We can’t be done,” he tells me. “I’m not done.”
“That’s too bad.” Self-preservation is my only ally. Two heartbreaks this summer were plenty. “I am done. We are so done.”
“I’m not used to things working out in my favor,” he continues like I didn’t speak. “When they do work out, it’s jarring. The good is...unbelievable. When I was picked at the draft to play with Miami, I was certain bad news was around the corner. Bad always follows good. Sure, you get to play ball in college, but you have to lose sleep and miss parties with friends thanks to your pal dyslexia keeping your grades low. You move to Miami, earn your parents’ pride, and then they die in a collision with Jack Daniel’s riding shotgun. Your brother pulls his shit together, then he fucks up and you don’t see your nephew for a year.” He pauses, lowers his voice. “You land the girl of your dreams by being yourself, and then lose her for exactly the same reason.”
“I heard you won back a particular girl several times over a spotty period of six years.”
“Wrong girl,” he says with a shrug.
“You thought she was the right one at the time.”
“I didn’t know she was the wrong one until I fell in love with you.”
I miss what he says next because the words I fell in love with you echo in my ears.
“...and I was too much of a coward to use the big L word,” he’s saying when I tune back in, my lashes fluttering. “But that’s what I meant when I told you that you wrecked me the night we made love on the governor’s wife’s faux fur coat.”
Gasps lift on the air. I gape at our audience. Barrett only smiles.
“He’s kidding,” I say to Nanci’s iPhone.
“I haven’t said a single word that’s untrue tonight.” Fox’s eyes have yet to leave mine. “But I said several I didn’t mean the day I accused you of outing my dyslexia to the world.”
I have no words. It’s too much. I’ve been packing my heart with stones and my stomach with carbs since he walked away. Grieving has seven stages and I’m determined to advance through each one as quickly as possible.
“You never needed an excuse to date me,” he says. “You needed a reason. A really good one. I managed to give you a good enough reason to date me, but I failed to give you a good reason to stay.”
“Accusing me of sleeping with you for the assignment didn’t help.”
“No. It didn’t.” He points to the television. “You’re going to want to see this part.”
Mia, remote in hand, turns up the volume on the TV. The newsmen are laughing and Barrett’s next to them, smiling. He looks good—but not as good as he does standing next to me.
“Thanks for the exclusive, Fox. Is there anything you want to say to Catarina Everhart that might land you back in her good graces?”
TV Barrett blows out a gusty breath and shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know.”
“How about this? Look into that camera right there, and give it a shot,” Sean says.
Real Barrett takes my hand, his fingers weaving with mine, and we watch his onscreen image look into the camera. He squeezes my fingers and says the words at the same time.
