“What kind of stress?”
Roman looks around before replying, “I can’t go into too much detail, but I’m going to a new team next season. That’s why I keep talking to my agent, Cameron. He’s trying to negotiate a big deal for me.”
I bite my lip. “I’m assuming that’s a good thing? Are you happy to be making a change?”
“Very happy.”
“From what I read, you’ve done really well with your current team.”
Roman lets out a long sigh. “After three Super Bowl losses, a lot of people have branded me as a choker, though. But it’s ateam sport, you know? I can’t help it when my receivers drop balls thrown smack into their hands. Or when my kicker misses what should have been an easy winning field goal.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and stares at the choppy waves of the ocean beyond the railing of the yacht. “The ownership of my current team wants me to win singlehandedly—without them shelling out money for some top-tier players to support me. But I can only do so much on my own; I need reliable targets.” He grunts in frustration. “Five years ago, they brought in this head coach who’s such a goddamned prick. I could go on and on about why I hate him, but suffice it to say he thinks berating me and calling me a slacker-choker-loser is going to be the magic bullet that somehow pulls the best out of me.”
I scoff. “That goes against basic psychology. Nobody—I don’t care if they’re children or adults, schoolteachers or professional athletes—responds positively to being put down and belittled all the time. People respond best to positive reinforcement and constructive criticism from a trusted source.”
Roman beams a smile at me. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. I mean that literally.”
I shrug. “It’s the truth.”
“Maybe you should be the head coach of the Crusaders. You couldn’t do any worse than the current guy, and you might do a whole lot better.”
I make a tipping scale with my arms. “Preschool kids, NFL players. Same-same.”
“Closer than you think.” With a chuckle, he sips his drink and looks out at the ocean again. “Football’s a business. I know that.” He returns to me with blazing eyes. “But I’m a human being, and I need the right support system around me to be happy and effective. So, that’s what I’m gonna get myself.Happy.”
“As you should.”
Roman looks down at his large hands. “I do sometimes wonder if the haters are right, though. If maybe I’m all washed up.”
“No, Roman.”
“What if I get to a new team and all the bullshit follows me? What if Ineverlive up to all the ‘Roman Maguire’ hype?”
“You already have. You’ve broken records.”
“I don’t have a Super Bowl ring, though. That’s the only stat that matters in my line of work.”
“When you make the change to a new team, everything will click into place. I’m sure of it.” I set down my cocktail and slide into Roman’s lounger with him. “When you’re surrounded by people who believe in you and give you what you need to succeed, I’ve got zero doubt you’ll have your best season yet.”
“Thank you, Iris,” Roman whispers with a shudder. He pulls me to him and kisses me, and for the next I-don’t-know-how-long, we kiss and make out on that crowded lounger like the world has melted away and we didn’t get the memo.
Chapter 21
Roman
“See you inLA, Romie,” Coach says in his patented low grumble.
I pat his back as he gives me a bear hug. “We’re gonna take the world by storm, Coach.”
“And we’re gonna have one hell of a good time doing it.”
It’s late afternoon at the golf club. Coach and I just finished playing a life-changing round. Thanks to what we talked about today, we’re about to become the first coach-quarterback duo to win a college championshipanda Super Bowl. Wait, no. We’ll winback-to-backSuper Bowls, just like we won those two championships at Michigan.
“Hardy!” a valet yells with his hand up.
With a parting wink, Coach heads over to his rental car. As I watch him drive away, I feel like the same cocky kid I used to be under his brilliant tutelage—the hotshot with a cannon for an arm who thought the world was his bitch and nothing could keep him from achieving all his big dreams.
I crane my neck to see if my rental car will be the next one coming, but no dice. Man, I can’t wait to get away from this place and call my family and Cameron—and then, to rush back to the bungalow to take Iris into my arms and tell her the amazing news. Thank God Iris found out the truth about me yesterday, so I can race back to her now and celebrate.
“Roman Maguire!” a gray-haired guy in a polo shirt booms to my left. “Great to see you again.”
