Chapter 35
brOOKLYN
It’d been a week since I left my mom at brunch, and we hadn’t exchanged a single word since. I wasn’t surprised. She’d never contact me first after I humiliated her in public, and I had no desire to call her and make amends.
However, I was surprised by my indifference to our falling out.
Just a month ago, her silence would’ve sent me into a spiral of anxiety.
But ironically, hearing her say what I’d suspected all these years healed something in me.
I no longer had to guess. I knew how she felt about me, and even if it wasn’t positive, the certainty took away her power.
She could no longer dangle the possibility of her approval over me.
The only thing I was sad about was not saying goodbye to Charlie or hello to my new half-sister. According to social media, my mother gave birth to a healthy baby girl named Teresa. She was adorable, all blue eyes and pink cheeks.
Maybe one day, when Charlie and Teresa were older, we could develop a relationship independent of my mother. Until then, I had to focus on the people who wanted me here.
“This is nuts! I’ve never seen this place so packed.” Carina returned from the bar with two pints in hand. She slid into the booth next to me, cheeks flushed from battling through the crowd.
Blackcastle had won this afternoon’s match against Munich. Fans and players alike had flooded the Angry Boar to celebrate, and the crowd was currently singing one of the club’s songs in drunken unison.
“It’s a new year. People are excited,” I said.
Everyone was feeling good about Blackcastle’s chances at winning the Champions League.
Ever since Vincent and Asher called a truce and started playing with each other instead of against each other, we’d practically been unstoppable.
Still, victory wasn’t guaranteed, and I knew Vincent was more stressed about the upcoming knockout stage than he let on.
“Maybe. I can’t believe Vincent scored another free kick though.” Carina shook her head. “That’s not usually his forte.”
“It’s because he’s playing for Brooklyn,” Scarlett said with an impish smile. “I’m his sister, so trust me when I say his performance today was definitely that of someone who wanted to look good in front of his girlfriend.”
My face warmed. “Stop,” I protested over my friends’ knowing laughter. “I’ve been to every match since we started dating. He doesn’t always play like that.”
“Sure, but it’s different now. The man flew to California for you,” Carina pointed out. “If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Something tightened in my gut. “It’s not love. It’s ego. The match, I mean. He wanted to win, and he did.”
Scarlett and Carina exchanged glances. I knew what they were thinking—I was in denial, it was love and I didn’t know it, so on and so forth.
But it was way too soon for the L word. I cared about Vincent a lot.
I missed him when he wasn’t there, and I couldn’t stop smiling when he was.
He was the only person who could comfort me without saying a word and thrill me with just a look.
But those things were natural in all healthy relationships, right?
They didn’t mean it was love. It couldn’t be. Not yet.
“Ladies!” Adil popped up next to our table with a pitcher of darkish liquid. “May I interest you in a customized, non-alcoholic refreshment? It’s part lemonade, part iced tea, and part Coke with a twist of fruit. I created it myself. It’s delicious.”
“So it’s an Arnold Palmer with Coke and a twist,” I said, amused. I could always count on Adil for a welcome distraction.
“That’s what people with no imagination call it,” he said. “No offense. But I like to call it the Adil Chakir. Here. Try it.”
He poured us all a glass. I took a sip and nearly spat it out. The concept was fine, but whatever ratio he used for the ingredients did not work. It tasted like soda that’d been left out for three days too long.
“What do you think?” he asked eagerly.
“Great,” I choked out. “So…interesting.”
“Right? That’s what I told Stevens. He said it’s so bad even Truffle wouldn’t drink it, but he just has bad taste. Oy, Stevens!” He yelled across the room. “You’re wrong! The girls like it!”
“They’re just being nice!” Stevens yelled back.
“And you’re just jealous you don’t have your own drink!”
While Adil went to argue with his teammate, Asher, Vincent, and Noah came over to sit with us. Fans had been dragging them away all night to talk to them or buy them a round, but I didn’t mind. This was their moment; they deserved to shine.
Still, I couldn’t help but smile when Vincent slid into the booth next to me and kissed me on the cheek. “How’s your night going? Miss me yet?”
I fluttered my lashes. “I was enjoying a testosterone-free chat with the girls, but I guess I’m happy you’re here. You’re nice eye candy.”
He placed a hand over his heart. “Me, eye candy? Thank you for recognizing my contributions off the pitch. There’s more to me than football, you know.”
I laughed while Scarlett attempted to engage an uncomfortable-looking Noah across the table.
“First Vincent’s birthday, now the pub? You’ve turned into a social butterfly,” Scarlett teased.
Noah nodded at Vincent. “Blame your brother. He’s aced the art of the guilt trip.”
“I don’t guilt anyone into anything. I persuade,” Vincent corrected him.
“Evie’s with her grandparents until this weekend, right?
So enjoy a night out before she gets back.
You need to relax before you keel over from stress, and it would suck to have to replace our star keeper in the middle of the season. ”
Noah’s mouth quirked. “I appreciate the concern.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you relax.” Scarlett patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe we’ll even find a nice girl for you to dance with.”
His half-smile morphed into a grimace. “Please don’t.”
I glanced at Carina, who hadn’t looked up from her phone since he sat down. Interesting.
When I’d asked what was up with her and Noah after Budapest, she said she had no idea what I was talking about and that they barely knew each other. I suspected she was hiding something from me, but I’d dig into that when we were alone.
Until then, I had some news I’d been dying to share.
“No one asked, but since we’re all here, I have a job-related update,” I announced, trying to keep the giddiness out of my voice. “Do you know who Derek Moore is?”
Just saying the name made my heart race—not because I was attracted to him but because he represented the potential next level in my career.
“The surfer?” Asher’s eyebrows rose. “Twelve-time world champion, often regarded as the greatest professional surfer in history. That Derek Moore?”
I nodded, my stomach swooping with nerves and excitement.
When I emailed my former career counselor back in December, I’d kept my expectations low.
However, she’d finally emailed me back yesterday with a lead, and I’d done a double take when I saw what it was.
I had to triple confirm it was the Derek Moore before I believed it.
“He’s an alumnus of my school,” I said. “He reached out to the dean because he’s looking for a new nutritionist for his daughter.
She’s a gymnast, not a surfer, but she’s hoping to make it to nationals this year and her old nutritionist wasn’t working out.
” Derek was a legend, but his daughter Haley was a rising star in the women’s gymnastics world.
Commentators were already speculating about her chances at the Olympics in a few years.
“He wanted to prioritize candidates from his alma mater this time around, which is how I landed an interview with them next week. It’s a remote position, but it pays well and comes with full benefits. ”
Vincent already knew, but everyone else broke out into cheers and congratulations.
“That’s amazing!” Carina cried, hugging me.
“The Moores would be lucky to have you,” Scarlett added, her eyes shining.
“Thanks.” I didn’t bother hiding my grin.
I was excited about more than the Moores’ high profile.
Working for them would open a lot of doors career-wise, but when I read the job description, something just clicked.
I’d always worked with sports teams and never with an individual.
Vincent had asked if I was interested in being his personal nutritionist, but there were too many conflicts of interest, and I didn’t want to dilute our relationship with work again.
But the more I thought about it, the more one-on-one work made sense for me. Obviously, it would depend on the employer, but overall, an individual would offer greater flexibility than a team. I’d miss the group camaraderie, but I wanted creative freedom more.
I was about to ask if anyone wanted another round of drinks when I spotted a familiar face in the crowd. I nudged Vincent. “Um, isn’t that Lloyd?”
Slicked-back hair, expensive watch. Yep, that was definitely him.
His agent barreled toward us, elbowing people out of the way and leaving a string of colorful curses in his wake. He was the only one here not dressed in Blackcastle gear, but I wasn’t surprised. I bet he slept in his Delamonte suits.
“Lloyd?” Vincent’s eyebrows shot up when he reached our table. “What are you doing here? I thought pubs weren’t your scene.”
“They’re not.” Lloyd sniffed. “But I was having dinner nearby with Sandra, the Zenith exec. She wanted to go over your test shots with me.”
The table quieted. Vincent stiffened, and I took his hand under the table in silent support.
Vincent had his Zenith test shoot last week, only a day after returning from San Diego. I was shocked they had the final results already.
“They fast-tracked everything so they could review the images as soon as possible,” Lloyd said, answering my silent question.
“Sandra and the rest of the exec team were thrilled with how yours came out. They said you, quote, ‘really embodied the spirit of Zenith.’” A wide grin split his face. “You got it.”
Vincent stared at him. “What?”
“The Zenith deal.” Lloyd grabbed his shoulders. “You got the bloody Zenith deal! You’re their new global men’s ambassador!”
There was a beat of shocked silence before the table erupted. Everyone showered Vincent with congratulations while I squealed and threw my arms around him.
“Congrats! I knew you would get it.” I kissed him, my chest swelling with pride and pure joy. “I had no fucking doubt.”
Vincent’s hand slid to my waist, holding me like I was his anchor. When I pulled back, his eyes were glassy and a little stunned. “I didn’t think…I…” He shook his head and laughed, the sound cobbled from a mix of shock and disbelief. “Holy shit. I got the Zenith deal!”
It sounded like it’d finally sunk in.
“We have to tell the rest of the team so we can celebrate.” Asher stood and dragged him out of the booth. “Sorry, Brooklyn. We’ll bring him back in a bit. Wilson, let’s go.”
For once, Noah looked vaguely happy to be part of the festivities. He followed them to another table, where Adil and Stevens were still arguing over Adil’s drink. Lloyd had already disappeared somewhere.
“Just bring him back in one piece!” I yelled after them.
Vincent could deny it all he wanted, but he and Asher were definitely besties. A moment later, fresh cheers arose from the team, and I laughed again.
My phone lit up with a new notification. I checked it, my laugh dying in my throat when I saw it was an email from ISNA.
Oh my God. It was my application status. It had to be.
I knew it was coming, but seeing it in my inbox was still a shock. It felt like a thousand years had passed since I applied.
I clicked on it, my heart racing a million miles a minute. I was so nervous the words blurred into a giant wall of text.
I blinked and tried again, my eyes skipping past the date and address in search of the key words.
Dear Brooklyn,
Thank you for your interest in the International Sports Nutritionist Association’s Innovator Award. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that you were not selected as a finalist…
A loud buzzing filled my ears. I reread the opening paragraph twice, then a third time, as though that would somehow change the text.
It didn’t.
I dropped my phone on my lap and sat back. The noise from the pub faded into a dull hum as ISNA’s rejection echoed in my head.
We regret to inform you that you were not selected as a finalist.
You were not selected as a finalist.
Not selected.
Not. Selected.
I swallowed past the taste of sawdust in my mouth. I’d known winning the award was a long shot, but I’d hoped I would at least make it to the finals. ISNA might as well have mailed me a letter with You’re Not Good Enough stamped across it in bold red type.
Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back before they could escape.
It’s okay. It’s just an award. You can always apply another year. But I couldn’t shake the creeping fear that the rejection was a sign from the universe—proof that maybe I didn’t know what I was doing and that I wasn’t cut out for this job.
Just half an hour ago, I’d been flying high from the Moore interview news. But an interview wasn’t an offer, and I wouldn’t put it past the universe to give me hope before yanking it away again.
A soft hand touched my arm. When I looked up, Carina was staring at me, her brow furrowed with concern. Scarlett had left to use the loo, but I’d forgotten Carina was still at the table. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You look upset.”
“Oh, yeah.” I pasted on a smile. “I’m a little overstimulated. That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t want to bring the mood down by telling her about the application.
“Okay.” She didn’t look convinced, but she let the issue go. “If you need to talk about anything, I’m here.”
“I know. Thank you.” I squeezed her hand and waited until she turned away before I let my smile drop.
I glanced across the pub, where Vincent was celebrating with his teammates. They slapped him on the shoulders and said something that made him laugh. His grin dazzled, and he looked so happy, I couldn’t bear to ruin the moment for him.
My chest felt so tight I couldn’t breathe. I was genuinely thrilled that Vincent got the Zenith deal. He was at the top of his game, and he deserved the world. I would celebrate his accomplishments a thousand times over.
But as I sat there, surrounded by joy and revelry, I’d never felt so small.