I hear Holt snort again, and I let myself smile as Silas rollshis eyes. “She might not say good things about me, but I know she talks about me.”
“She does. Is your daughter with you tonight?”
He shakes his head.
“That’s too bad. She’s adorable. And so smart.” Hallie was tagging along with Goldie for one of our lunches last week.
He smiles. “Kids are great. You’ll love yours.”
“Already do, even if they keep kicking me.”
Another businessman is lined up with Mom, waiting to say hi, so Silas joins Holt, Fletcher, and Goldie, who are waiting for him, and then the four of them head for the picture station.
Holt doesn’t look back.
And I should quit looking at him.
But what would it be like if we could openly be here together?
If I could go take pictures with them?
If we could sit at the same table where I could hear more stories from his teammates and friends about their season together?
“Ziggy?” Mom says, again in thatI’ve said your name three times nowtone.
My fake smile reappears, and I turn to the next man in line and hold out my hand, shaking as Mom introduces me to another sponsor and his wife.
“You seem very close with Silas,” she murmurs between guests.
Silas.
Close withSilas.
She’ll find out otherwise tomorrow. “He’s Goldie’s brother. I met his daughter last week. What was I supposedto say? I’d hope someone would tell me if they think Tater Tot is an absolute delight.”
She puts her hand to my forehead again. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Are you getting enough sleep? Is this job too much right now? You know, we can?—”
“Deedee, say hi to Zander,” Miranda interrupts. “You can fuss over Ziggy later. She’s doing great. Who wouldn’t be stressed worrying about making sure a hundred people are happy with a gourmet steak dinner?”
Zander looks between all of us, then makes quick work of shaking hands and thanking us for having a party for the team, then departs.
Thanks for having us. Thanks for having me.
Such a strange expression.
We’re literally here because the guys played an amazing season.Weshould be thankingthemfor giving us a reason to have a big, festive dinner where my mom has brought a date for me and where I can’t be seen privately talking to the man who has my heart.
Finally—finally—the line is over, and it’s time for us to get drinks and mingle for a few minutes before dinner’s called.
I slip to the bathroom, Miranda on my heels. “You okay?” she whispers.
“We’re telling them tomorrow,” I whisper back.
“Your mom brought you a date.”
“I know.”
“This is gonna be awkward. Want me to sit between you?”
