3. Reid
THREE
REID
“I did something stupid.” I collapse onto the couch in the hotel suite where my friends and I are getting ready for Dallas Lansfield’s wedding and stare at the chandelier above me. “And I hate myself for it.”
“We don’t do self-deprecating in this house, Plant Daddy.” Maverick Miller, award-winning hockey player of the DC Stars and an absolute pain in my ass, sits next to me. “Can we get some context, please?”
I roll my eyes at the nickname. “It’s woman-related.”
“Woman-related? I haven’t heard you talk about a girl in years, Mr. I’m-Obsessed-With-My-Phone. Besides your arch-nemesis, of course.”
“He loves her,” Dallas says, frowning at the bowtie he’s trying to put around his neck. “Can’t go a day without mentioning her. You missed today’s rant, Mavvy. It was good. There was something about—shit. What was it? Authenticity? Algorithms? His face got all red and he kept grumbling under his breath.”
I scowl. “Can we not? You’re getting married in thirty minutes and I’m in a great mood. I don’t want to bring it down by talking about her ,” I say.
My eye twitches at the mention of the woman I’ve been feuding with via Instagram and TikTok DMs for the last couple of years. I’ve always loved my job, but lately, the role has evolved into a back-and-forth sparring match with the person behind the Baltimore Thunderhawks accounts.
They used to be an NFL team back in the ‘70s and ‘80s before they were sold and moved out west where they’ve flourished as the Portland Gophers. When an expansion team was granted to Baltimore to replace them decades later, the girl who runs the accounts made a genius move by resurrecting the old theme song that played before games to bring some excitement back to the original name and logo. She created a cult following in the process.
The song has become so popular, fans from opposing teams flood the Thunderhawks posts after a win so they can hear the catchy tune.
I’ve even heard Maverick humming it when he thinks I’m not listening.
I hate it.
I hate her , and I’ve hated her for years.
She tags the DC Titans account whenever we lose, and every now and then, I’ll have a DM from her waiting in our inbox that makes me want to throw my phone across the room.
Any content I post, she repurposes and makes better. She jumps on trends and racks up millions of likes with viral videos while mine don’t gain nearly as much traction. It’s all harmless fun, but my title of winning NFL Social Media Account of the Year for the fourth season in a row is at stake, and I don’t want to lose to her .
There’s been this temptation over the years to look her up on LinkedIn so I can learn who is behind the account, and curiosity has almost gotten the best of me. I typed Thunderhawks social media team into the search bar once. I was seconds away from finding out her true identity before I slammed my laptop shut and walked away.
If I give her that much of my time, if I make it seem like I’m interested in her and give a damn, it means she wins.
The last thing I want is for her to win.
“Sorry.” Maverick holds up his hands, but I know he’s not actually apologizing. He loves to bring her up and piss me off. “Go on. Tell us about your problem. I’m an expert on relationships and love now. I can help.”
“You got engaged to the first woman you’ve ever dated. That doesn’t make you an expert.”
“Fine. Figure it out yourself.”
“Okay. Okay .” I blow out a breath. “I met someone last weekend, and we had a good time. I regret not getting her number, because I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Why didn’t you get her number?” Dallas asks.
“Right after she left for the restroom, Shawn called and told me about the Griffin Harrison signing. When she got back, she said she had to leave. It was quick and chaotic. By the time I realized I should be asking for her number, she was gone.” I sigh. “She’s gorgeous. She made me laugh, and she even likes comic books.”
“Comic books?” Maverick gasps. “You should’ve taken her to the courthouse and gotten a marriage license on the spot.”
“It amazes me how Emmy fell in love with you,” Dallas says, and Maverick’s eyes turn to hearts at the mention of his fiancée. “I’ve never met someone so clueless in my life.”
“It wasn’t just the comic books. It felt like we had a connection, which sounds so fucking lame when I say it out loud.”
“It’s not lame.” Dallas checks his reflection in the mirror and smiles. “You’re allowed to like someone, Reid.”
“Doesn’t matter if I like her. I’m never going to see her again.” I stand and grin at him. “Are you ready to get married?”
“Yes. No. I’m freaking out.” He runs a hand through his dark hair and gnaws on his bottom lip. “What if Maven realizes she can do better than me? She’s settling, for fuck’s sake. And I can’t get this damn tie on.”
A decade of friendship, and I’ve never seen him so stressed out.
He’s a professional athlete, the kicker for the Titans and the NFL record holder for the longest-made field goal. He’s usually great at performing under pressure, but right now, I can tell he’s panicking.
“Maven loves you,” Maverick says, reassuring him, and it’s the same thing we’ve told him in the weeks leading up to the wedding. “You could show up without a tie and she’d be happy. Hell. You could be naked and she wouldn’t give a shit. She gets to marry you, and that is what’s important.”
“I’m not showing the world my dick,” Dallas says.
“Such a shame. You have a nice dick,” Maverick says, and I snort. “The three hundred people downstairs would probably love to sneak a glance at it.”
“Can we stop talking about my genitalia and focus on the real problem? What is Reid going to do about his mystery girl?”
“I bet I could find her on social media.” Maverick digs in his pocket for his phone and pulls up Instagram. “This is where I shine.”
“Oh my god.” I stand on my toes and peer over his shoulder. “Look at all the message requests you have. Are those all from women?”
“Maybe? I don’t know.” He waves me off. “I don’t notice them anymore. I haven’t checked my DMs in years. What’s this girl’s name?”
“She told me it’s Claire, but I’m pretty sure she was lying.”
“Not starting off on the right foot, man.”
“I can’t fault her. She sat through a dinner with a guy who was sexist as hell. She was probably trying to protect herself.” I shrug. “I can’t shake this feeling I’ve met her, though.”
“Really?” Dallas grabs his tuxedo jacket and shrugs it on. “Does she work for the Titans?”
“No. I can’t place her, but I’ve definitely seen her before.”
“Maybe she lives in your building,” Maverick suggests. “We can organize a stakeout and watch all the women who walk in and out. You’ll be able to tell if you recognize her.”
“Your ideas are getting worse and worse. Look, I appreciate the help, but it wasn’t meant to be, and that’s fine.” I grab the bottle of champagne sitting in a stainless-steel ice bucket and pop the cork. “Today is a special day, and we’re not going to bring the mood down by talking about my pathetic love life.”
“It’s not pathetic.” Dallas takes the glass I offer him and downs the bubbles in one swallow. “It’s just not moving as fast as others.”
“It’s not moving because it’s nonexistent. I’ve accepted the fact that until I’m ready to step away from this job, a partner isn’t in the cards for me.” I shrug and sip my champagne. “Work comes first. Relationships come second. It’s fine. Really.”
“Could you at least put your phone away and try to have some fun tonight?” Maverick asks,. “Make out with a woman you’ll never see again. Have one too many beers and wake up with a hangover. Ignore your responsibilities for a couple hours.”
“I left my phone in my hotel room. I’m not going to touch it until Monday,” I say.
“Thatta boy.” Maverick grins and glances at Dallas. “What do you say, buddy? You want to go see the woman of your dreams?”
“Yeah.” Dallas’s smile turns soft. “Everything is better when Maven is around.” He sets down his glass and looks at me. “Do you have the rings?”
“Yup.” I pat my pocket where two velvet boxes are tucked away for safe keeping. “Do you have the vows, Mavvy?”
“I’ve been guarding these with my life.” Maverick puts a hand over his chest. Emmy’s initials are tattooed on his ring finger, and I smile at how quickly the former playboy turned into a lovesick idiot. He’s head over ass for her, totally fucking obsessed, and I almost got whiplash from how quickly he changed his tune about settling down. “This is the most important thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”
Dallas checks his watch and rolls his shoulders. “Let’s do this before Mae changes her mind.”
“She’s not going to change her mind,” I say.
“I know we’re not in one of those sister-wives situations, but I hope Maven knows she’s not just marrying you,” Maverick says. “She’s stuck with all three of us.”
“Poor girl,” I say, and he sticks out his tongue. “She should’ve run when she had the chance. There’s still time to save Emmy.”
Dallas opens the suite door and steps into the hall. “Y’all can argue about this later. Can you let me marry my girl first?”
“Of course we can.” Maverick gives him a salute. “Ready, Plant Daddy?”
“I’ll catch up with you in a second. There are smudges on my glasses from when you pretended to be Clark Kent, and I can’t fucking see.” I wave them off. “Go ahead. I’ll be right down.”
The door slams shut behind them and I walk to the bathroom, rinsing the lenses and rubbing them dry. I hold them up to the light and squint, making sure they’re clean enough so I don’t trip down the aisle.
I double check I have the rings one more time and leave the room, heading for the elevators. As I turn the corner, I run straight into something.
A warm, soft something that pulls on my tuxedo jacket and sends me tumbling to the ground.
“What the hell?” I blink and put a hand on the floor, looking at the person underneath me. Brown hair and brown eyes. A dimple on her left cheek and red lipstick on her mouth. “ Claire ?”