“Why?”
“Well for one, you have this huge ass kitchen, and two, you’re more of a homebody than any of us, so it’sjust funny to me.”
“Cooking for one is hard, and normally I’m too busy to worry about it.”
“What were you ordering tonight?” I peek over her shoulder at the menus she’s considering.
“I was debating between a salad or pizza.”
“Why not both? I could go for some pepperoni, and we could split the Greek salad.”
“Cheese sticks too?”
I scoff. “Like that’s even a question.” Gabby types in the order online and pours us both a glass of wine.
“The game doesn’t start for a bit. Do you want to go outside?” Something’s off about her too. She seems to be more introspective than usual.
“You know I love your porch.” I follow her out to the porch, sitting on the couch while she turns on the fan to combat the surprising September heat.
“How’s it going with Chase?” I ask.
She fidgets with the stem of the wine glass before sighing. “Not great right now.”
“What happened?” I take a sip of my wine and look out over the greenway across the street, trying to release the tension in my shoulders. Gabby’s street is always blissfully quiet and the sun setting casts a beautiful portrait.
“The fight with the catcher from Arizona. He recognized me from the island and figured out we were together.”
“Okay but to be fair, that’s a very unfortunate coincidence and not a conclusion anyone who didn’t know about your one-night stand would reach.”
“It only takes one person to go public to ruin everything,” she argues.
“There’s nothing to say he wouldn’t have used something else to rile Chase up. I mean, he took a swipe at Miller too because everyone knows you’re friends.”
That jackass catcher from Arizona is known for starting shitwith batters everywhere. This wasn’t an isolated incident, but I can understand why it would feel like that to Gabby.
“Exactly. They’re using me to attack them and that’s not cool. It’s what I told him I was worried about to begin with. I’m not a cleat chaser, Tay.”
Wait. What? I’ve been called a cleat chaser once upon a time, but Gabby’s the furthest thing from that. She works for the team. She’s never even dated an athlete before, let alone any Troubadours player.
“Where the hell did that come from? We all know that.”
“Perception is reality and now that I’ve accepted the general counsel position, I need to be mindful of the optics. It doesn’t look good for me or the organization if I’m involved with a player.”
“So, what, you’re going to stop being friends with Miller and Preston too? You wear their jerseys to the game, not Chase’s. You’re not flaunting your relationship with the rookie.” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice at the illogical conclusion she’s drawing.
“I doubt we’re in a relationship anymore anyway,” Gabby says, softly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
They’re solid. Despite keeping their relationship under wraps, it’s clear they’re head over heels for each other. Unlike me and Grant, Chase and Gabby communicate—at least I think they do.
“We had a fight before he left Sunday, and we haven’t talked about it.”
I sigh and shake my head. I love my best friend, but she is her own worst enemy.
Pot meet kettle.The inner voice in my head chimes in.
“Gabby, I love you, but you are the most self-sabotaging person I know. What was the fight about?”
