I type and talk again. “I need you to understand that my life is really hectic during the season, and there will be days I won’t be home at all. I know you’re not happy here. I wish I could’ve kept you in Iowa, but it’s not possible. I live here. My job is here.”
“You don’t have a job. You have a…” She makes a sign I don’t understand, so she spells it out. I shake my head in begrudging amusement when I understand she’s telling me I have a hobby I’m paid a boatload of money for.
She’s not exactly wrong, and she’s patient while I give signing another try. “You’re right, and the only thing that will make all of this easier is that boatload of money. I can get you whatever you want.”
Her brows rise in challenge, and when I nod, she asks, “A dog?”
I slice my hand through the air. “No.”
“You said anything.”
“Besides a dog. Or any live animal.”
She blows a raspberry at me and leans back against her pillows.
“Anything else,” I sign. “I know you won’t believe it, but I do love you. I want you to be happy.”
She turns away from me, facing the big windows, highlighting the glassiness of her eyes again. “Fine,” she signs, keeping her focus outside. “I want to hang out with Nadine.”
“Good,” I say and sign, even though she’s not looking at me.
“But I’m not calling her my nanny.”
“Agreed,” I laugh, and she must see it out of the corner of her eye, because she shoots her foot out, nailing me in the thigh.
“Ouch.” I tug on her ponytail, forcing her to turn back to me. “You know how much my body is worth?”
“Eighteen million,” she signs, and I grin.
“Nineteen point one, actually.”
“I hate you.”
I laugh and pull her to me. She doesn’t fight when I hug her. In fact, she presses her face into my shoulder and lets me hold her for a little while.
And for this moment, at least, I’m not disappointing anyone.
CHAPTER 6
NADINE
Only two weeksafter my school year ended, I’m already thinking of ways to help another child.
Paisley is sweet and funny, in that sarcastic teenage way. In the two hours I spent in the devil’s sanctuary, I learned that she loves Y2K rom-coms, because, yes, obviously, they are the best. She enjoys arts and crafts, making online photo collages, and has a TikTok account just to watch cake decorating. She also really misses her best friend from home and thinks Camden is a dick, because, yes, obviously, he is the worst.
Even if he is attractive.
Since I’m alone and no one will be able to tell what I’m looking at besides Russian spies, I enlarge the photo on my cell phone. The one from a few years ago, when he graced the cover of a men’s magazine, a football in his right hand and his left holding the knot of a towel that hangs precariously low on his waist, moisture beading all over his golden skin. His mouth is tipped up in that dumbass smirk, his eyebrows raised playfully over his dark eyes.
Like all tight ends, he’s tall. Freakishly tall. And muscular. Like, could lift a car, muscular. With those long arms able to catch a pass, strong enough to block a defender.
Each position in football calls for certain traits: offensive linemen are big in height and width, running backs tend to be a bit shorter—which is still taller than the average human—and low to the ground so they can withstand all those tackles when gaining rushing yards, wide receivers are tall and lithe, meant to outmaneuver the defense. The most important physical attribute of a quarterback is their brain. Aside from having an arm, they need to be able to read the entire field and remember hundreds of plays.
I used to help Erik study his playbook, which is how I understand the game and the positions so well. It’s also how I know Camden Long is 6’5”, 243 pounds, averaged fourteen yards per game last season, scored eight touchdowns, and signed the biggest contract in the league for his position right before the previous season, a four-year extension for a little over $76 million.
But, whatever.
It’s not like I keep track.
