“Yes! Yes. Why? Do I have something between my teeth? Is my lipstick smeared? Oh god, did I lose an earring?”
“Sweetheart, you look perfect.” She puts a hand to my forehead, like anxiety can present itself with a fever or something. “What’s going on?”
“I just want to do a good job,” I blurt.
“You’ve done a fabulous job. Look at this place. No one else could’ve pulled this together like you did.”
I can think of a dozen people I personally know who could’ve pulled this together, but I don’t say that.
Instead, I smile politely at Holt’s teammate, who gives me a kind smile in return before shaking Mom’s hand and telling her thanks for hosting tonight.
Two. Dozen. Men.
Including several I’m meeting for the first time tonight because not all of the guys come into the office regularly. Two were retiring at the end of the year. A couple more have been traded but came back for the banquet.
And all of them know my secret.
Mine and Holt’s.
I manage to shove the worries far enough into a mental box that Mom quits fussing.
Doesn’t hurt that the players and the sponsors Dad invited are showing up in thicker crowds now, and I’m saying politenice to meet yous andgood to see you agains andthank you for comings to suited man after suited man and occasionally their dates too.
We’re telling my parents tomorrow.
Afterthe banquet.
To give the team one more night of semi-normalcy to celebrate what they certainly deserve to celebrate.
And then Holt and I will handle the aftermath of our announcement without taking away from anyone’s joy.
Because the team really did do amazingly well this season.
If it weren’t for a few injuries to some key players, they would’ve gone all the way again this past season.
More businessmen and their wives come through the line.
I keep alternating between looking at the rancher I hired to come and grill steaks on the patio outside the banquet hall and watching for Holt to show up in the line.
And that’s why I almost miss it.
The introduction.
Theintroduction.
“Ziggy,” Mom says with that tone of voice that says she’s said my name at least three times now.
I snap to attention and force a smile at her, consciouslynotasking if my dress is stuck in my panties. “Yes?”
“This is Kyle Vince. The nice young man I told you about who works with your father at the Environmental Engineering Club?”
It takes seven heartbeats—fast heartbeats, but still—for me to catch on.
The nice young man I told you about.
Shit.
Dammit.
