“Yes, I read it over.”
“Are you sure, Wes? Or are you just saying that so I don’t freak out?”
“I skimmed it.” I glanced up from my phone.
“You skimmed it?!” Her voice rose.
“Relax, Kylie. It’s a football game.”
“A football game?” She slammed shut her leather portfolio sitting on her lap. “It’s a community high-profile engagement event, Wes. Parents, students, alumni, and reporters will be there. You can’t just wing it. You have to say exactly what we prepared for you.”
I glanced at her and noticed her left eye was twitching. “What is wrong with your eye?”
She brought her finger up to her eye. “This is what happens when I’m scared you’re going to go off the rails and screw things up!”
“You should really get that checked,” I said.
“It wouldn’t be happening if you just didn’t tell me you skimmed the speech I spent over three hours preparing.”
“What happens if I go off script?” I asked.
The horrified look on her face almost scared me.
“Why would you even put that kind of energy out into the universe?” she asked.
I chuckled.
“It’s not funny, Wes. I’ve prepared backup statements just in case you decide to mention something that will most likely offend people."
"Oh, come on.” I laughed.
“Another thing. You are not to mention Samantha. If one of the reporters asks you about her, you keep your mouth shut. Got it?”
I felt an ache in my chest. I stared out the window and didn’t say a word.
“Hey, are you okay?” Kylie’s voice softened.
“I’m fine,” I sighed.
“You know what I loved about her?” Kylie asked. “How, after one date, she got you to eat at a greasy diner. How she made you laugh. And how she put you in some of the best moods I’d ever seen you in.”
“Don’t sit there and analyze me,” I said.
“I don’t need to analyze you, Wes. I’ve worked for you long enough to know when you’re miserable.”
“We’re not discussing this, Kylie.”
“Fine. Just stick to the speech, Wes.”
Chapter Thirty
Weston
I hated public speaking, which was ironic since I spent my days presenting to investors, negotiating deals, and leading board meetings. But having to give a speech on the fifty-yard line at a public high school with the stands packed with people was different. It wasn’t about business. It was personal.
I stood in the background while the school principal introduced me. Walking out onto the field, I waved and plastered on the smile I’d perfected over the years. The one that convinced everyone I had everything under control. Applause erupted from the stands as I stood in front of the microphone. That’s when I saw her standing in the front row of the stands with her arms crossed. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she wore a navy blue Manhattan Heights sweatshirt and jeans. She looked as beautiful as ever, which made my heart ache even more. The look on her face told me she didn’t want me here. That was fair. I wouldn’t want me here either if I were her.
I cleared my throat as I pulled the microphone from itsstand. “Good evening, everyone.” The crowd cheered, which made me uncomfortable. I was a man who didn’t deserve to be cheered. I began to give the speech Kylie wrote. I talked about opportunity. The community and investing in the future. I talked about the importance of education. And when I talked about the value of excellent teachers, my eyes diverted back to Sam, who, instead of listening, was talking to Greta, who stood next to her. That’s when I veered off course.
