After a staredown, Erik breathes out a noisy exhale. “If you really don’t want to, I won’t push it, but I’m surprised.” He lifts a shoulder as if he doesn’t care one way or the other, but then he hits me right where he knows it’ll land. “I figured you’d care about Paisley, about getting her the help and support she needs. You’re the perfect person to do that.”
Then he stands and leaves me to my indignation.
And memories.
Of the first time I ever met Camden Long.
It was at an engagement party for Erik and Molly five years ago in a ballroom in Center City, Philadelphia. Back then, the Founders were still trying to turn their losing record around, but Erik and Camden were the up-and-coming players, making moves for their team, which had previously been called theFloundersby anyone who followed professional football. Andthe story of Erik marrying his high school sweetheart was the kind of made-for-TV stuff producers clamored for, so while the wedding would be small and have no publicity involved, the engagement party was a big affair.
I’d picked out what I thought to be a flattering gown and practiced walking in the sky-high heels for weeks. So it hurt more than I’d like to admit when I’d overheard some of Erik’s teammates talking, Camden in particular.
“I can’t believe Rivera has such a big family,” one of them said.
“Yo, you talk to his dad? I’d love to see that Olympic medal,” another one added.
“You meet the sister?” the center asked.
To which another offensive lineman said, “She’s in college, bro, barely legal. Stay away.”
I’d been about to barge into the conversation to defendEmmaline when the center said, “Not that one. The other one. The dark-haired one.”
That was when Camden cut in. “I think it’s best if everybody leaves the Rivera girls alone. Especially the older one.”
I hung back, hidden by a potted plant, while the oblivious players had no idea I could hear.
“What’s her name?”
“Nadine,” Camden answered. “She’s a schoolteacher.”
One of the other players snickered. “Bet she fucks like one too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Camden asked as the rest broke up into chuckles while I curled my hands into fists at my sides.
“Haven’t you ever had a fantasy about fucking one of your teachers?”
Camden shrugged, his glass, containing some dark drink, appearing minuscule in his giant hand. “Not ones who look like her.”
I couldn’t stand there anymore, listening to him talk about me or my body. No, I wasn’t blond like my sister or super confident like some of the other women strutting about, but I certainly didn’t deserve his derisive laughter.
The next time I ran into him that night, I let him know he needed to check himself and maybe switch to water because, “Nobody likes a cocky asshole at their parties.”
Now, I grit my teeth, feeling the humiliation all over again. Remembering how every time we met after that party, our barbs went further. Deeper.
I really can’t imagine he’d want me working with him.Forhim.
But then I recall that photo of Camden with his arm around Paisley. The way his mouth was tipped down, his usually perfect hair a mess, the glistening streak down his cheek in HD, evidence that the man did indeed have feelings that weren’t all about himself.
I think about my students and how I always wish I could do more for them, and even though Camden has the world at his fingertips with his money and fame, sometimes that isn’t enough.
It certainly won’t be enough for his sister.
With a sigh, I down the rest of my wine and then march inside, where Erik turns to me in the kitchen, expectantly. “I agree to one meeting,” I tell him. “But if he makes one snide comment to me, I’m out.”
Erik nods slowly, almost as if he’s afraid if he makes any quick movement, I’ll change my mind.
I point a warning finger at him. “You tell that friend of yours, this isn’t for him. It’s for Paisley.”
CHAPTER 5
