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Is she absolutely fine with being in my corner to help? Be my teammate, as Calvin always refers to it as?

She places her hand over mine again and squeezes. “Think about it, okay?”

I draw in a breath. “Yeah, I will. I think I’ll take you up on that, though.”

“I hope you do.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Calvin

Iglance in my fridge and grab the tray labeled “tonight” from the private chef I use occasionally. It’s one of my only things left in my fridge, mainly because it’s my last night in my apartment until after the Super Bowl, and I’m not exactly sure what my schedule will be like after that fateful game.

I read the directions on the label, then preheat my oven to the desired temperature and slip the pan into the oven.

Grabbing two sets of plates and silverware, I make my way to the table, placing each item down. I eye the work, and it’s not quite straight, so I fool around with the table setting for a minute, getting it perfect.

I grab two votive candles from my drawer and set them down next to the white vase filled with calla lilies that were delivered while I was at practice.

I light the candles, then hear a faint knock on my door as I glance down at my watch. She’s right on time.

“Hey,” we greet each other as I pull her into a quick hug before grabbing her winter jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack behind her.

“Dinner is almost ready,” I tell her. “What would you like to drink? I have beer, water, whiskey,” I say while waggling my eyebrows.

“Water is fine tonight,” she says with a light laugh.

I pour us each a glass, set them on the table, and then pull the tray out of the oven and grab a serving spoon.

The smell of chicken and lemon wafts into the dining room as I set the food on the table between us.

“Yeah.” I scoop a piece of chicken and vegetables and place it on her plate, and then I serve myself.

“I didn’t make it,” I blurt out because I don’t want any secrets between us.

“That’s fine,” she chuckles. “I didn’t cook you dinner either, and you’re so swamped right now. I’m just thankful we could get together tonight.”

Me too. Tonight is my last night before flying to San Francisco tomorrow. We’re there almost a week before, getting ready for the big game on Sunday. I still don’t know if she’ll be there.

As a player, we each get two tickets for the game that we can purchase at face value. I bought my two, but I know several players like my best friend are looking for more for their families and friends.

I had a few friends ask about tickets, but I’d prefer them going to my family first, with Lettie being top choice for me.

“Is your family going to be there?” she asks, reading my thoughts.

“I’m not sure.” I sip the glass of water to help block my face for a quick second.

Lettie stays silent, waiting for me to expand my answer.

“My dad knows better,” I say, keeping my answer short. We no longer have a relationship, and I think he knows I would never give him tickets if he asked. “My mom…” I pause. My throat tightens, and I take a sip of water. “My mom—she wishes.” I shake my head, and I feel Lettie’s warm hand on top of mine. “But the Super Bowl would be too hard. She’s getting better, but it would be too much.”

My mom finds it difficult to leave the house some days, so a jam-packed stadium would be out of the question. But I talked to my mom last week, and she showed some interest in flying out during the off-season. Something she would have never considered even five years ago.

“Okay.” She pauses for a beat, then asks, “Don’t you have a sister?”

“She just had a baby, so she won’t be able to make it.”

“I didn’t know that!” she says, lighting up. “Do you have a niece, or a nephew?”