Embarrassment singes up the back of my neck, like I’ve shown my cards.
Ross studies me for a long time. “You didn’t really answer my question. Do you like working for the team?”
“Yes, I like it.” I want to lie, but it feels wrong.
“Good.”
“I’m going to give the team to Tate.” The words fall out of me. “When we win playoffs.”
He takes a deep breath. “That’s your choice.” I didn’t mean to tell him, but here we are.
“He’s the best person for the job.”
He makes a thoughtful noise, and we spend two minutes in silence, watching the game.
“I don’t know you anymore, Jordan,” he finally says, not looking at me. “I don’t know what you do when you’re not working. I don’t know what you watch on TV. I don’t know your favorite meal or what makes you laugh.” He clears his throat. “I have no one to blame but myself, but forgive me for trying.”
I think about what Tate said, how if Bea didn’t talk to him, he’d never stop trying.
“I listen to music. A lot.” I swallow. It’s about to all come spilling out, I can feel it. “All the stuff Mom used to play, seventies rock mostly but some disco, too, which is kind of dorky but it’s happy music. I have her old record player.”
He gives me a wistful smile. “You still have that thing?”
“It’s my most prized possession.”
His eyes, they look... not sad. Not hurt. Just—full of emotion. Full of memories.
“I listen to that old stuff, too. Reminds me of your mom and you dancing around in the kitchen.”
We’d do that when he wasn’t there, so I don’t know how he remembers that.
“There were a few times, I’d get home early,” he continues, like he can read my thoughts.
“Not often.”
“No.” He goes quiet. “Not often enough, that’s for sure.”
Why?I want to ask.Why weren’t you around? Why didn’t you choose us?
I don’t forgive him, and yet a tiny part of me wants to. I see the sad look in his eyes and I fall for it. I want to let the past go and move on.
I know better than to trust him again, but I don’t revel in this guilt he feels.
And I want to ask about the summer house. Does he still own it, or did he sell it? If he sold it and it got knocked down, replaced by some ugly behemoth, I’d just die.
“Thanks for the chat, Jordan.” He stands, not meeting my eyes. “It made my week.”
He’s gone before I can say anything else.
CHAPTER 54
JORDAN
The next weekend,I leave my hotel room and head downstairs to where Luca’s big-check dinner will take place. Dinner’s on him, but the hotel rooms are on the team, because even though we’re in Vancouver, we didn’t want people struggling to find a cab or rideshare late at night.
I check in with the hostess, and she leads me to a private dining room. I smooth a hand over my dress. I hope I’m not overdressed. Georgia flipped through the book the stylist gave me and pointed to a page with a fitted black velvet dress. “That one,” she said. “No question.”
My hair is down tonight, bangs styled and falling above my cheekbones. A swipe of black liquid eyeliner gives me that cat-eye look I love. The long-sleeved dress has sheer black panels and a cutout showing a hint of cleavage. It’s snug around my breasts, waist, and hips. The hem hits just below my knees, and I paired it with black heels with a bow on each ankle.
