“Besides work?”
“Yeah, besides that.”
“Not much really. My dad and Cain always send me roses and then I usually work late and go home to eat takeout by myself. Real exciting, right?
His brow lifts slightly, like he’s filing that information away. “You ever had a boyfriend during the holiday?”
I take a moment to think back on the last few years. “Yeah, once. Back in high school. It was short-lived.”
“What’d he do for you?”
“I think he gave me a single rose he plucked from his mom’s garden.”
Boone shakes his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “That’s messed up.”
I laugh easily. “It was but at the time I thought it was romantic. My standards were low.”They still are, unfortunately. “What about you?”
“The last time I did something…” he rubs at his dark beard as he thinks. “That probably was for my ex a few years ago.”
“What’d you do for her?”
“Flowers, chocolates, music, home-cooked meal. The works. A whole lot of effort for someone who didn’t end up appreciating it, but I wanted to show her that she mattered to me even if it’s a commercial holiday.”
I nibble on my lip, hesitating, but the tequila courage fizzing through my veins nudges me forward. I’ve been dying to know what really happened between them, and this feels like the opening I’ve been waiting for.
“Do you mind if I ask what really happened? I mean, I know what the media said, and what Rhiannon mentioned tonight, but I’ve always believed there are two sides to every story.”
He leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs out until his feet brush mine. His thighs nearly swallow the seat, and the soft, golden light makes him look unfairly good.
There’s no denying Boone is attractive. But even stripping his handsome looks and strong muscles out of the equation, there’s something else there too.
He’s easy to talk to. It’s almost effortless. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who made conversation feel this natural, this unforced, like I wasn’t constantly reaching for the next thing to say and fumbling wondering if I’m reacting appropriately.
“The media said what exactly?”
“That she wanted you to retire and start a family, but you wanted to keep playing so she ended the engagement.”
He chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. It’s just a sad bitterness. “The opposite of that is how things happened.”
My brows knit together in confusion. “Really? So… you were ready to quit but she wanted you to keep playing?”
"Pretty much,” he says, his voice deeper now. “I was ready to settle down. I wanted to get married, have kids, the whole thing. I figured I’d play another season or two, maybe three if I was lucky. But I was at my peak, and if stepping away meant having a family, I’d have done it without hesitation. I was ready.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but there’s something heavy in the way he says it.
“She wasn’t ready for me to stop making money. And she wasn’t ready for the attention that came with dating me to end. Shewantedme to keep playing. It was good for her brand. Andwhen I shared that retirement for me would mean slowing down, spending less, saving more, she said she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready for kids.”
“Oh…”
He nods. “That’s when I realized our long-term goals weren’t as aligned as I thought they were. She wasn’t ready to give up the wild schedules we had where we barely saw each other and that was fine. I think she enjoyed the fact that our relationship was mostly spent long-distance and not together. Anytime wedding planning came up, she’d put it off. I respected her decision. So… I ended it.”
“You… ended things withher?”
He nods, his gaze steady on mine. “Yeah. Media didn’t mention that part, did they?”
“Why haven’t you corrected them?”
He shrugs again, leaning back in his chair. “Why does it matter? Who cares what anyone else thinks when the people I love know the truth?”
He’s right. Sometimes it isn't worth fighting the narrative that people make up about you. Sometimes you’re better off just letting them believe whatever story they want.
