Page 56 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

The plastic wrap is reflective green, the exact shade of my jersey. The basket itself is dark brown. Inside is a folded plaid throw matching the one from our movie date.

The same kind we lay on under the stars after Casablanca.

Two flameless candles. Hot chocolate mix. A single rose.

She avoided the obvious version of herself and built the basket from moments only we would understand.

Lucy’s basket.

Meredith’s smile sharpens as I stop in front of her.

She didn’t grab Lucy’s basket by accident.

Meredith organized the lineup. She knew exactly where every basket was placed before anyone entered the room.

She’s betting the room will photograph the moment I choose the basket from her hands and let gossip rewrite the rest.

I scan the room. Phones are already half-raised. Teammates waiting for spectacle. Lucy standing onstage, hands clasped around a basket that isn’t mine, trusting that I’ll find the one she made for me.

If I react, Meredith gets the spectacle she wants. If I refuse the basket, Lucy pays for it.

Meredith rigged the game.

If I identify the basket while Meredith holds it, half the room will post pictures before Lucy can read me. If I refuse, Lucy will think I failed to recognize the memories she chose for us.

“See something you like, Sharpe?” Meredith asks, pitching her voice loudly enough for the nearby phones to catch it.

I ignore her eyes and focus on the basket.

“Is this your basket?” she presses.

I inhale once. Slow. Controlled.

“Yes.”

Satisfaction flashes across her face. “Lucy is so nice,” she says, tilting her head. “I just adore that little café she hides out in.”

She doesn’t say it casually. She says it like she’s been watching.

The room’s noise becomes suddenly unbearable.

This isn’t about winning.

It never was.

“What do you want, Meredith?” I ask quietly.

She shrugs, like the answer should be obvious. “One real date.”

Anger threatens to answer before I do. But Lucy is standing ten feet away, trusting me to remember that this is her choice, too.

I need to end this without giving Meredith the spectacle she wants.

And without making Lucy pay for it.

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy