Josie nudges me. “Tell Addie the plan for tonight.”
Our friend’s eyes go wide, and she darts closer. “Wait, you’re going to do something tonight?”
“I promised Sutton I’d follow through, and I’m not a quitter. So tonight I’m going to flip the switch. A little brighter and in public. It’s one thing for him to ignore the red flags I’m waving when I’m naked, but I highly doubt he’ll go with the flow when I push him in public.”
Josie’s smile goes manic. “Have I told you how much I love this project?”
I pick up a pillow and toss it at her head. “You’re evil.”
“You’re both diabolical,” Addie says, plopping down beside me. “But I want to know every detail of your plan, because I’ll be taking notes of that man’s reaction.”
My stomach twists with nerves, but I force a smile to my face. Then I break down my completely batshit plans.
TWENTY-ONE
CAMDEN
Me: Baby girl, are you ready for our date this weekend?
Savannah: Feels like this weekend is forever away…but yes.
A waveof affection washes over me. This weekend is tomorrow, but I agree. Another twenty-four hours without her feels like a lifetime. All week, while I traveled to colleges around the country to scout our prospects, I counted down the hours. Hell, the seconds. A whole week without her was torture, but the trip was necessary, since I have a meeting with the rest of management next week, where we’ll discuss our drafting strategy.
As I climb out of my car, I shove my phone into my pocket. Just gotta make it through one more night of work, then I’m all hers. I considered inviting her tonight, but in the end, decided it was probably too forward in such a new relationship. It’s a holiday party—though it’s more like a carnival because the Langfields only know how to throw over-the-top events—and holiday parties are for families. Not for casual dates.
It’d be weird if I brought her, right? Actually, it feels like it would be perfect. I can vividly imagine draping my arm over her shoulders while we stroll through the winter carnival. The fake snow that Beckett will somehow have magically falling from the sky will land in her pretty red hair. On the tip of her nose.
Fuck, just thinking of how she’d smile has me pulling out my phone and shooting her another text message.
Me: What are you doing right now?
It’s last minute, but I stop and wait for her response, ready to hop in the car if she’s free. I could pick her up and be back here within the hour.
Would she really come? Am I ridiculous for asking? Maybe. But I don’t give a fuck.
Savannah: Going out with friends. Why?
Disappointment pummels me like a blow to my chest. With a shake of my head, I fight off the stupid emotion. Inviting her would have been absurd.
I type out another quick message, playing it cool. Or at least I hope it sounds cool and not like I’m a forty-six-year-old man desperate to see her.
I am, so it would be accurate, but still.
Me: Just like to know where you are. Have a good night with your friends. Make sure you get your rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.
Her response is a winking emoji. What the fuck does that even mean?
I don’t have the bandwidth to figure it out, so I shove my phone back into my pocket and lock the car.
The carnival is set up inside Lang Field, and the stadium has been completely transformed into a winter wonderland. It’s like a Thomas Kinkade painting come to life. Every surface sparkles. Beneath my feet,fake cobblestones are covered in snow, even though the city has yet to be hit with even an inch of winter precipitation this early in the season.
To my left, kids are throwing snowballs and making snow angels. Of course they are. Beckett Langfield doesn’t half-ass anything.
Toward the back, a Ferris wheel is lit up in red and green lights, and in the middle of the ball field is an oversized Christmas tree that rivals the one at Rockefeller Center, along with a small skating rink, where more kids are skating.
A handful of them are showing off, doing spins. Obviously hockey players’ kids.
Then there’s a row of carnival games, complete with prizes—all of which are high-quality stuffed animals, not the cheap kind typically found at a real carnival. Once again, it screams Langfield.
