“As long as he’s not giving them a reason to think there’s hope, sit high on your throne, Queen. You’re the only one who could, and did, take him off the market.”
“Thank you, sis.” I smile.
The game kicks off at three, with screams and cheers from Steel fans in black and gray. I’m on my feet anytime Antonio has the ball or makes a tackle, proudly displaying his number six jersey. He scores twice before the last whistle blows, and the Steel earns their fifth consecutive win.
News cameras follow reporters who shuffle onto the field, vying for statements from the team that’s projected to win this year’s championship. Proud is an understatement. This team works so hard, and they deserve all of the coverage they’re receiving.
“I don’t know what the hell I watched. I was nervous and a little turned on from all those hits.” Marcela grabs her chest to catch her breath. “They play at home next week?”
I laugh. “Yes. Post those pictures you took on social.”
“I will. Looks like they have a shot at going to the championship. I’ll speak with some people about possible funding.”
“Any plans to talk to a certain senator?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. He’s still on punishment from Valentine’s Day. It might be the end of the road with that one.”
Marcela never discusses her romantic partners, but that sneaky link lasted longer than anyone else. Two years is a long time to not catch feelings.
Her lashes fall as she clasps her hands. “Love is,” she chuckles, “not for everybody.”
“Are you okay?”
“I always am. Who isthat?”
I follow her gaze and smile. Julian Brooke never fails to make an entrance or cause neck pain within a fifty-yard vicinity. All eyes follow the former playboy turned family man. His low fade matches a trimmed goatee, and his chocolate skin is tucked into a suit and long coat.
We’ve never said more than a few words in passing. Kierra had a crush on him for the longest, one that turned into a one-night stand and her binging every British show after he went back to London for work. He’s ’90s-leading-man fine, but there’s no way I would ever stay under a blanket boo-hooing over someone who sent one-word texts after we shared bodily fluids.
It’s part of the reason I never wanted to be the casualty of a hookup, especially with a known bachelor.
“Hi.” I stand up to give him a hug.
“It’s good to see you, Miriam.” Julian greets me with a knowing smile. “I’m happy for you two.” He squeezes me.
“Thank you.” I blush.
His eyes lift to my sister. “Hi. I’m Julian, Antonio’s friend.”
“Marcela, this one’s sister,” she says, doing her best not to get lost in his rich baritone.
“And city councilmember.” Don’t ask me why I mention it. The man is married with three kids. I hate small talk. “How’s Ella and the family?”
A smile crinkles his brown eyes when I mention the woman who did the impossible and made him fall in love. It’s written all over his face, and the wedding band adorning his ring finger.
“Real good,” he beams. “Jackson is about to video call me to catch the post-game press conference. You coming down for the rematch next month? We’d love to have you over.”
“Oh. We haven’t made any plans.”
He grins. “I’m sure it will come up. Antonio always comes through whenever he’s in DC. I’m gonna head in and call my son, but I wanted to say hi.” He offers a parting hug. “I’m gladyou gave him a chance,” he whispers before turning to Marcela. “Councilmember, a pleasure.”
“That’s Antonio’s friend?” Marcela’s eyes are still on Julian as he cuts left to the field house.
“Since they were little. He’s happily married with kids.” If she didn’t know that he was married, she’d kidnap him and keep him for herself.
“Damn. The best ones are always taken.”
“You should know.”
