"At least you don't have to deal with Elliott," I said, trying to lighten the moment. "He's gonna lose his mind when I tell him about this." Which was why I didn't plan to do it soon.
"Take my advice. Wait until the hangover goes away before you bring it up," she suggested.
"You know a lot about this," I said, as some of her comments from the night before slithered back into my brain.
"Look, a girl doesn't get married multiple times in Sin City without figuring a few things out," she said.
"Exactly how many times have you been married?" I asked.
"Not a lot." She dabbed the edge of her lips with her napkin.
"Maya?"
"You know about Dan. It's not a secret that this isn't my first time."
"Okay. But how many?—"
She didn't wait for me to finish the question. "Total of three. Two others, plus you." She lifted her palms in apparent defense. "One divorce. One annulment. One…" She gestured between us. "In process."
"Okay." Now, I frowned.
"You might have just given me my least favorite response of all the responses," she said, matching my frown.
"I don't… Huh," I said.
"I know. Me either," she said. "And I've got a season pass on this ride."
"My management team has been kicking around ideas for… how'd they put it?" How did I word this? “‘Diverting the spotlight off my loss of endorsement deals and my lack of reliability.’”
"I guess that makes sense," she said halfheartedly, with a small shrug.
"Does it?" I asked. She may have only been my temporary wife, but I hoped she'd be more on my side here.
"I mean, you've switched pro teams a few times, right?" she asked.
The question was innocent, but it still stung. Yeah, sure, Denver was the first place I'd stuck, and I was now playing for a contract extension. Also, Elliott had to issue corrections more often than he'd like because I said something stupid… there was also that.
"Just because it took time to find the right team doesn't mean I'm not reliable," I countered.
"Okay," she said, just like I had before.
I frowned. "That might bemyleast favorite response of all the responses."
"We'll blame it on the booze," she said with a smile.
Huh, the thing was, intoxicated us might've been onto something other than a one-night stand last night.
"Do you think people love a good love story?" I picked at my French toast with the tines of my fork.
She thought about my question. "Sure, I guess."
"Why?" I asked.
Her eyebrows fell together as she said, "Because everybody wants to hope for the best in people, and the idea of picking one person out of the entire world to be your human match? Well, I guess that's the true story of possibility."
A story of reliability, perhaps?
"I just had an idea," I said, carefully feeling out the idea in my head. "It's kind of unorthodox." To put it mildly.
