“So you can tell me how badly I’m about to screw up?”
His grin is all annoying big brother. “Exactly.”
They close the door behind them, leaving me in a living room that smells faintly of dog farts and my own failure. Upstairs, I hear Piper moving around. I want to go up there, apologize, and try to explain what I meant versus what I said.
But for once in my life, I’m going to listen to advice and give her space.
Even if it kills me.
Because I get now that the best way to help Piper isn’t to fix things for her. It’s to step back and let herfix them herself.
I just hope I haven’t already blown my chance to be part of her life once she does.
21
FELIX
Later that night,I pull up to the address Ian texted me.
“Tell me you have money without telling me you have money,” I mutter under my breath as I look at the house. It’s set in the trees, and while we’re not far out of town, it feels like I could be back in Vail or Aspen or some other fancy high-altitude enclave. Which tracks, I guess.
When Ian texted me the invitation to join him and some of his local Skylark buddies at a poker game, he told me Jake Byrne was the one hosting it. I know from comments Ian has made that Jake comes from money. His family’s community foundation funds projects both in Colorado and Texas, where his grandfather’s business started.
The whole reason Ian connected me with Jake in the first place was that my fledgling charity, Felix’s Flyers—which raises money for youth sports—was looking to expand. Ian thought I could partner with the Byrne Family Foundation now that I’m going to be a Colorado resident, and have them manage my grant-making process. I’ve let it flounder since the breakup with Ronnie last summer because she was supposed to be running things.
Mostly, she wanted to wrangle invitations to fancy charityfunctions and buy the designer clothes she said were necessary for an executive director. Fool that I was, I believed her. Up to a point anyway.
If I’d offered Ronnie the option of becoming Mrs. Felix Barlowe so that she wouldn’t have to work, she would have grabbed onto the opportunity with both hands. Not act like I kicked her identity into the dirt the way Piper had.
I run a hand through my hair and climb out of the car. It was a shitty proposal, but my intentions were good. She’s going to realize that. And of course I’m fine if she works. She can do whatever the hell she wants with her time. I wanted to make it easier. Instead, I made it a lot fucking harder.
I tried to talk to her when she came downstairs this afternoon, but she told me she needed time to “process.” Oh yeah, she used air quotes for that word. And for Ellie’s sake, she didn’t want tension between us, but she wasn’t going to talk about it anymore.
So I let it go. Because I’m not that big of a fucking fool.
She also told me that she was doing a girls’ night out at her friend Molly’s house, because Molly’s hosting some big wedding this weekend at her flower farm, and the book club ladies were going over to help put the centerpieces together. She kind of lost me at ‘textural elements’ and ‘natural movement’, but I nodded along like I knew exactly what she meant.
She also asked if she could take Ellie with her because her friends wanted to meet the little girl, and Molly’s twins were excited to play with her. She didn’t mention anything about her friends wanting to meet her baby daddy, but I figure that will come in good time.
I get out of the car and start toward the house. Ian also let me know that Jake isn’t just a trust-fund baby. He’s also a successful mystery author under the pen name Spencer Charles. I don’t read a lot other than playbooks, but I’ve seen the books in airport bookstores.
I approach the house, feeling eight kinds of awkward. Don’task me why. I haven’t felt out of place in a social setting since my breakout freshman year football season in college. There was no place on campus where a member of a national runner-up team wasn’t welcome. Hell, people would have paid to get me at their events.
The same thing was true once I got to the NFL—especially after I won my first Super Bowl ring. Most cities that have pro teams turn the players into royalty, and Cincinnati was no exception.
I never knew if people wanted me around because they liked me or because they wanted a selfie with their team’s star wide receiver. Even my teammates were more work friends than anything else. I thought Russ was a real friend, and we all know where that got me.
There also weren’t a lot of guys, other than Troy, who I kept in touch with after college. I can shake hands and slap backs and give a good “hey, bro” when the moment calls for it. But I don’t let a lot of people in to see the real me. Hell, I barely let myself see the real me.
Ian was much the same way. Or, so I thought. So it surprised the shit out of me when he said he’s gotten to know some of the guys who are partnered up with Sadie’s friends, and they hang out even when the women aren’t involved.
I considered texting Tyler to tell him I was finally taking his advice, but then thought better of it. Because if he asked what prompted my change of heart—he’d also think my foot-in-my-mouth moment with Piper was a damn laugh riot. Besides, my trainer is in Vail for the weekend. We did a pre-dawn run and workout so he could head out to see Mindy, the meal-prep lady.
They basically met a minute ago, and he’s already calling her his girlfriend, like it’s so simple.
Not for me.
The door opens after one knock, and the guy who answers—tall, although not quite my height, with brown hair and hazel eyes—grins at me.
