We don’t have fan loyalty yet. We have people who show up because Fletcher’s socials are the kind of train wreck that draws you in and makes you want to see more. We have people who show up because they’re starting to see that Crew has the potential to be a superstar. Because they’re finding out that Silas’s family started a rugby league that another family took over when his parents divorced, but thathe’s still involved with. Because the guys on this team are willing to put in the extra time and effort during the season to get out and talk to the fans and make them feel like they’re part of something.
It’s not something you get with a less cohesive group.
Deedee breaks the silence. “That sounds bad, Roland.”
“I can afford the loss.”
Ziggy snorts. “Dick thing to do to the whole city. To the whole league.”
“Language, young lady,” he growls at her.
She switches to a different language with words I haven’t heard her use before.
Italian, I think. Has to be, because it’s not Spanish.
And I think she just called him worse than a dick.
Maybe.
The only thing I know how to say in Italian isgelatodespite how much I’ve listened to her listening to her podcasts and newscasts to stay current with her language skills.
“Sigourney Jane Barnes,” Deedee says, confirming for me that it was bad. Also confirming for me that I had no idea Ziggy was a nickname.
Huh.
Look at that.
Still so much to learn about this woman that I love.
“Sell the team,” Ziggy says. “If you don’t want me dating one of your players, sell the team.”
My eyes fly open and I accidentally gape at Roland.
He’s at least covered his crotch with a throw pillow.
A throw pillow that looks like something you’d get at a museum, with artwork of stick figures on it that are probably supposed to be groundbreaking in some way.
“I’m not selling the team,” he says.
Deedee’s covered most of her bits too with a strategically placed pillow and the urn that she’s holding in front of her chest.
Big urn.
Very big urn.
I hope it doesn’t have someone’s ashes in it.
“Then we’re done here,” Ziggy says. “If you don’t want me dating one of your players, who’s been my very best friend since I got home, who loves me, who takes care of me, who accepts me for who I am, and you won’t sell the team so he can keep reaching for his dreams, then we’ll find a new team for him to play for, and I’m going with him when we do.”
My heart swells.
Swells and cracks at the same time.
I didn’t want this.
I didn’t want her to have to choose between us.
But she’s choosing me.
