“For sure.” Giana raises her glass and grins at Jobe. She takes a piece of lobster and moans. “It’s really good.”
I sample a small piece, but my stomach is still in knots and doesn’t want any food.
“I spoke to your friend, Bella, this week. She came by the studio looking for an art piece.”
“Yeah?” Our glasses ting. “I’m glad she listened to my advice when it comes to the best art in LA.”
She snorts. “I don’t know about that, but thank you for the compliment…” She pauses. “Bella said you haven’t caught up in a while.”
My sister-in-law is not subtle. “I’ve been busy.”
“Time with girlfriends is therapeutic.” Her gentle eyes watch me carefully.
“So is a masseuse when I don’t need to leave the office.” Oh God, I sound like a young Franklin.
Giana frowns at me. “Call your friends, Lottie. They want to see you.”
The crowd is countingdown the last few seconds of the game. We win by thirteen points. Byron played outstanding but so did Brandon. I found myself gritting my teeth every time he scored.
By now, I should have left the stands and made my way through the tunnel to the locker rooms, waiting for Coach Mathews to arrive and deliver his speech and avoid the pain of watching Brandon Johns for a second longer than I need to. I’m curious to see how he reacts to Byron after the game. The players on both teams shake hands and some pull the other closer with a pat on the back. At least itwasn’t a spiteful match, and we had control the entire game.
Brandon is walking toward Byron.
My heart is in my throat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Byron holds out a hand, Brandon shakes it and pulls him in for a hug with three pats on his back. I let out a sigh of relief. They were best friends for years before I messed everything up. We messed up. Brandon’s gaze darts toward the VIP seats. To me. He knows exactly where my family sits. I should hope so. We’ve had the same seats for five years.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I seehim. The gentle man I fell in love with, head over heels. The man I was willing to do anything for.
My brother pulls away, and they say something and smile before heading in the opposite direction to join their teammates.
It appears to be a small step to mend a shattered friendship.
My heart is not healing as easily. I remain frozen in the stands, waiting for him to look back, to give me anything. Instead, he walks behind his team. Disappointment hits me along with something else. I’ve noticed it in other games when we played the Stingers but haven’t given it much thought until now.
He doesn’t fit in.
The team dynamics are different than the LA Sharks. While he is on top of his game, he has no unity with the team. Brandon is doing his own thing, which is not a formula for team success. He was happy playing in LA.If onlyBrandon and I approached things differently, maybe the three of us would not be stuck in a dark hole of pain and regret.
I lean forward to see the stands behind the Stingers’ seats. Never have I allowed myself to consider he has brought someone special to the game. I’m not naïve. There are women in his life, but is there someone he is comfortable with to bring here?
He doesn’t acknowledge anyone as he walks by, and it gives minute satisfaction to know I’m not alone in this mess. Suddenly, a brunette appears from the stands and runs to him before he enters the tunnel. A heaviness centers in my chest. I square my shoulders, ready for the wave of emotion to crash into me. She leaps onto him, and he casually holds her with one arm tight around her waist. All satisfaction shatters when he kisses her, then buries his face into her neck. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. I look away and shiver with a vivid recollection of him kissing me and nuzzling my neck, whispering sweet promises. Then I remember the aftermath and how he left me to deal with the fallout.
The painful knot in my chest grows a little more, and I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from the hurt.
4
CHARLOTTE
A nightout with girlfriends is just what I needed after listening to Giana’s advice. The music is playing softly in the background of the restaurant. Since Bloom is my brother Franklin’s restaurant, I’m surprised there isn’t a harpist. Maybe he has taken my advice about popular music, although Pink should always be heard at top volume. I love her music now as much as I did over a decade ago. The last few years, “So What” has been somewhat of a lullaby.
“Filet mignon it is,” Violet says and lowers the menu.
“It’s because she’s not getting any at home,” Bella says under her breath, and Cassie giggles.
I take a sip of my wine. “What did I miss?”
