“I, my friend, know more than you realize.” She smiles at me like the crazy cat inWonderland.“I have been listening to the announcers and the sports news. All eyes are on the LA Sharks, especially with their new player.”
Cassie pulls me in for a hug. “Do you want me to shove my foot in her mouth?”
“Yes, and find me a rusty fork.”
Violet laughs. “I don’t have a life. When the kids sleep, I’m watching everything I can, and I’m reading the gossip columns.”
I groan loudly. “You know better.”
“I do. But this time, there’s an element of truth. I’ve watched the part where BJ points at you, the smile on his face, your practiced poker face. Something has happened, and you haven’t told us.”
I pick up the bottle and drink again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’m right,” Violet whispers. “Somethinghashappened between you.”
I place the empty bottle on the table. “Well, you’ve ruined my night.”
“That bad?” Cassie says.
Gah.“No. That’s the problem. It wasn’t bad at all. And now I’m totally fucked.”
Bella wraps an arm around me. “We’re your friends, Lottie. You can talk to us.”
“I’ve really missed this. It’s like being at college again, sharing each other’s problems and offering our wisest solutions, which was often really bad advice.”
I laugh. “Which is why I’m not asking for any of your advice. Can’t we talk about someone else?” I look at the culprit. “How’s your son? Your sex life improved?”
“Nope, you don’t get to change the subject,” Violet warns. “And I’d rather guide my father into my mother than talk about my sex life.”
I splutter champagne over the couch. “Jesus, that escalated quickly.”
I stand, champagne in my hand. “Do you want to stay here and chat about my ex or jump in my hot tub that has uninterrupted views of the city?”
20
BRANDON
At five-thirty in the morning,I turn off the phone alarm and check for any new messages.
Nothing.Not a damn thing.
Well, sweetheart, I can do this all day.
Scrolling the list of unanswered texts I sent to Charlotte, I begin a new one.
Good morning, Lottie. Hope you have a good day. Don’t forget to add flowers as a work hazard to your HR report.
I head to the bathroom, then change, ready for training. On the drive to the arena, I open a new playlist, one that reminds me more of Charlotte than the usual motivational tracks. Most of the guys are already on the court by the time I arrive, with one notable absence.
When Byron and I trained together, we were the first toarrive, the last to leave. We’d include an extra session most days. While his form is one of the best on the court, his mindset is not the same. I doubt it’s avoidance of my sudden arrival. He isn’t that shallow. If his family offers contentment with new dreams and goals, then I’m happy for him. For as long as I can remember, playing ball was the only thing driving him to find that joy and succeed in playing at the highest level. Hell, I am aware we can’t play ball forever—our bodies will only carry us for so long. I respect that he has found a life after basketball because all signs indicate that this might be his last year.
Every player wants to end on a high—a championship—not forced from the game by a premature career-ending injury, which I almost caused him.
Before moving back to LA, I decided this season would be my last. Now, after seeing Charlotte, every emotion I locked away has burst through the locked door of my mind, and I feel everything from when we were together. I’m not wasting this chance for us.
Grabbing my sweat towel and water bottle, I head out to the court and send her another text.
I will get this championship for you. I promise.
