“And I’m amazed by you,” she says.
I arch a brow in question. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve eaten a full meal and you haven’t mentioned Drew once. You have some serious restraint.”
I sigh heavily. “There’s no point. There’s nothing to say.”
Except my heart aches still, and that sucks. The only thing that’s taken my mind away from him is work. I’ve logged twelve hours most days. All the work reminds me that I’m closer to paying off my loans.
And it’s better to worry about loans than a real fake romance. Or a fake real romance? Or whatever it was.
I raise my chin, take a hearty sip of the last of my iced tea, and set down the glass. “And on that note, I have to give a tour to the press.”
“Why are you doing the tour? You’re a lawyer,” she says.
It’s a damn good question. Originally, Stephen just wanted me to be part of the event because I handled all the deals with the food vendors. But then he wanted me on it because of Drew. Now, I’m leading the dang thing. “Nancy in publicity is out sick for the day, so Stephen asked me to fill in. Plus, he says I’m the best at only saying to the press exactly what he wants said. Yay me.”
“Well, you’re pretty damn sharp, Miss Legal Eagle. Maybe you should have Nancy’s job,” she says.
I shudder. “No thanks. Contracts are my speed. But it’s just one tour, so it’ll be fine.”
I stand to go but Cara grabs my arm, gently pulling me back into my chair. “What if they ask about the two of you?”
My throat tightens. “I’ll say something…pithy about how football requires focus.”
Though that sounds horribly canned. Also, it’s a lie. Plenty of athletes can handle romance and work. Plenty of humans can. I’d thought we could.
But I was wrong.
“Brooke, his bad game isn’t your fault,” Cara says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You actually believe it’s your fault. You buy into this whole focus blah-blah-blah. But it’s bullshit.”
Whoa. Cara hardly ever swears. “Tell me what you really think.”
“You saw the game on Sunday, right?” she asks, a blazing intensity in her eyes.
“Of course.”
“And did San Francisco not play its ass off in that game?”
We are both football daughters. Cara knows the game inside and out like I do. “They were great,” I agree.
“No one was going to beat them. He’s an idiot if he thinks he lost because of you. The Hawks were relentless. They played a tight, intense game, and they took advantage of every opportunity.”
Can’t argue there. “But it’s not my place to convince him of that.”
“I know. But I don’t want you thinking you rattled him. He had a bad game. It happens. Don’t put it on you, and don’t let him put it on you.”
Cara makes a good argument. One I should share—not to win Drew back, but because it’s true and because it matters.
Sometimes you win; sometimes you lose. A pro baller knows how to play through life’s ups and downs, the bad times and the good times.
Drew’s not just any pro baller.
He’s a damn good one. He needs to have faith in himself. Maybe he needs to know others have faith in him too, even if he has one imperfect game.