Chapter 15 #2
Alec’s breath froze behind his ribs. Please be honest. For all the bagels in Jersey, even those peculiar French toast numbers, please be honest with me.
“Jules showed me the picture he took of us before he posted it,” she confessed. “I said he could.”
Well, that was a ripe piece of news. “You did? Why?”
“I was a bit tipsy, and also . . .” To his utter astonishment, Marisa tried to look anywhere but at his face. “He had a picture of you on his phone.”
“He did?” Well, that was bloody news to Alec, though whether it was the nightly news kind or the tabloid kind remained to be seen.
Marisa nodded slowly but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Jules said he used to date a soccer player for the New York team. He saw you in the stands one time and snapped a photo.”
“Why would that bother you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly relish the idea of being in some bloke’s phone gallery, but it’s not an uncommon occurrence, I guess. I play all over the world and can be a bit recognizable in certain circles, so it’s bound to happen.”
However, his explanation didn’t soften whatever had set her on edge. She shifted uneasily in her seat and kept tapping out a rhythm on the table with her thumbs.
Alec placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“The picture was of you and Phoebe.”
Ice flooded his veins, and the shock of it somehow crisped up the circumstances he found himself in.
“Ah. It must have been from a few years ago, then.” Alec raked his memory bank, and sure enough, he’d gone to a few local sporting events with her when he was in the States.
“Why did you break up? Or I guess the bigger curiosity I have is, why the hell did you date her to begin with? You never answered me, and it’s still been on my mind.”
Outside, the light snow had begun to collect on the edge of the window glass, pooling in a slanted hill that seemed determined to frost over as much of the world beyond and block out any distractions.
Even the weather was conspiring against him, forcing him to reveal the truth lest he be buried beneath the weight of it.
Again, Alec looked for answers in his coffee.
Again, he found none. “We were together for some time. Met her in New York at one of the opening night parties for a show Cal had been in. She had a friend who worked for the theater, so she got in as a guest, and I was on break in between rugby seasons and not opposed to a bit of fun back then. Break being the keyword in that scenario,” he said pointedly.
“The way our tours work is that, each month, we play one jam-packed Friday-through-Sunday weekend of rugby in a different city around the world. There are seven legs, you see, all leading up to the Grand Final at the end. It’s a lot of travel, and though most people may not think so, it sets a grueling pace of play, pace of life, really.
Playing Rugby Sevens at that level is not conducive to settling down, and at the time, I wasn’t interested in changing.
“Phoebe, however, was, despite the fun that my lifestyle afforded her. She was convinced that, with me getting on in years, all she had to do was wait out my career, and eventually, the ruthlessness of the game would decide in her favor. When it didn’t and I saw just how unhappy my professional happiness was making her, we ended it, though far later than we should have.
I suppose I used all the travel as a convenient excuse to be a coward.
It’s a bit easier to hide your injuries and true worries over video chats. ”
It had been bad enough to have Brennan’s disgruntlement breathing down his neck over Alec’s desire to keep playing, but to have someone who supposedly loved him tapping her foot every time he took a tackle and spent longer in the infirmary than he had when he was younger had been the wrong sort of confidence vote.
“She didn’t have anything nice to say about the photos online,” Marisa added. “A few passive-aggressive emojis seemed to be the extent of her interest in the matter.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Does she know how you got injured?” A bit of trepidation laced her curiosity as she tried hunting for answers she likely guessed others already knew.
“I’m willing to bet she does.” He sat back in his chair, leaning on the rear legs, and barked out a laugh. “I don’t even have a good story to tell you about that one. Probably should just make one up, to be honest.”
“I like made-up stories,” Marisa said, lifting a shoulder. “Did Santa have a mid-air collision during sleigh testing and land on your shoulder?”
He shook his head, grinning. “No, but the lad who tackled me during the Vancouver match might have weighed about as much as the Big Fella.” Then Marisa gave him the space he needed to talk about the fear that had chased him all over the globe.
“I misjudged the pitch and my opponent. Took on more of a bloke than I could handle and didn’t land properly.
A total rookie error. Woke up in a hospital bed with a concussion diagnosis and the worst headache you’d ever imagined, and that was before I got an eyeful of Brennan’s mangy jowls flapping at me, screaming about how I owe him a new suit for causing him to spill his drink all over his crotch when I didn’t get up after taking the hit.
Even through the pounding in my skull, I managed to tell him it didn’t matter.
Any equipment that may have been affected between his legs had been inactive for so long, I doubted window dressings would have made it work again. ”
Marisa laughed cheerfully, brightening his spirits. “No you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“No wonder he doesn’t like you.”
“Oh, he likes me fine. He just doesn’t understand me. No one does, except Cal and sometimes Hugh.”
“Who’s Hugh?”
Then the inkling of an idea sifted through his thoughts, one that just might fix his execution problem when it came to this whole fake relationship charade.
“My roommate while I’m in Jersey. Snores like a beast and eats all my good steaks. Hates any food that’s green and gets mighty irritated when I turn off the TV, even though he’s already fallen asleep to it. Would you like to meet him?”
At that, Marisa’s eyes widened. “Meet him?”
“Sure.” Then Alec set their coffees aside and clasped her hand, the one that hadn’t been holding the cup, and rubbed away the remaining bit of chill with his fingers. “Listen, I know I fucked this up. That kiss wasn’t exactly planned.”
“But it was effective,” she added, gesturing with her chin toward her phone sitting on the table.
“Word’s spreading. Even Monica liked the photo, which I’m still not sure how I feel about.
Either way, it definitely made people sit up and take notice, including a few rugby organization names I didn’t recognize liking the photo as well. ”
“If that’s what we can achieve with an accidental spark, imagine what we could do with an intentional fire.”
Marisa’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“The Ball’s coming up, and we won’t have many more public opportunities to drum up business, so let’s make one.
This time, you and I will have ground rules set in advance.
No kissing without consent. No touching without prior approval.
Everything staged and thought out beforehand.
Think of it like a director’s shot list. What do you say? ”
Marisa bit her lip, and for a moment, he was terrified she was going to send him packing, having dealt with far too much of his shit and all the stink that came with it. But then she smiled at him and raised her coffee cup. “I’m in. On one condition.”
He faux clinked his paper cup with hers. “What’s that?” he asked, taking a sip.
A flash of something he couldn’t quite place lit her eyes. “That there be more kissing.”
He turned just in time to spit his hot coffee all over the frozen window and watch in shaky fascination as the hot liquid melted away every inch of snow that had been choking out his escape route moments before.