Chapter 7
Taking another sip of my whiskey, I reread Mike’s message, contemplating how to respond to it.
Mike: Dude, you literally ambushed her on a cruise ship while she was throwing up over the side of the ship. What did you expect?
I expected a hell of a lot more than a slammed door and a ‘fuck you,’ that’s for sure. I swirl what’s left of my drink in my glass, contemplating whether I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life or it’s the smartest play I’ve ever run.
Mike: I get what you were going for, but romantic gestures usually work better when the girl isn’t covered in vomit. Just something to consider for next time.
Zach: There will be no next time. I’m getting Honey back.
Mike: If she doesn’t push you overboard first.
Zach: The thought definitely crossed her mind. I could see it in her eyes as she wiped away the vomit from her mouth. I think the only reason she didn’t was because she was trying not to vomit again.
Mike: I don’t have any sympathy for you. This was your plan. Own it.
Zach: Not just my plan. Your wife was equally involved. And Madison. Still can’t believe you won’t invite me to the group chat.
Mike: Because somebody has to think logically, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the guy who tattooed his forearm and chest after the girl broke up with him.
Zach: Just because we aren’t together doesn’t mean we’re broken up.
Mike: Point proven. Liv just got off the phone with her. Despite constantly throwing up, she’s pissed.
Yeah, I know that. I saw the fire burning behind her eyes when she realized it was me handing her a towel.
She might be mad now, but I know she’ll come around eventually.
No one has ever fought for her the way I’m willing to.
If anything, these two weeks will give me a chance to prove to her how much I want her.
Mike: She says to give Honey space tonight, but in a few days she should be okay.
Zach: If this works, I’ll name my firstborn after her.
Mike: Pretty sure Honey would have something to say about naming your kid.
Zach: Fine. Middle name.
Mike: Just don’t fuck this up, Evans. I barely made it through your 3 a.m. “I miss her” tour last year, and I lost the tattoo battle. I’m not doing the sequel.
I grimace at the reminder, the gold ink just peeking through my buttoned-up shirt. I got it in hopes it would convince Honey how serious I was. Yeah, it didn’t help. Still don't regret it, though.
Zach: No promises. But I'm not giving up on her.
Mike: I know. That's why we gave you the damn ticket. You both need to figure your shit out now once and for all.
Zach: I already have. She’s it.
I signal the bartender for another drink just as someone leans on the bar beside me. I don’t bother looking. I know it’s not Honey; therefore I’m not interested.
“Evans?”
Why does that voice sound so familiar—
I turn to look over, surprised to find Drew McCallister from the Santa Monica Rattlesnakes sitting next to me.
“Drew?” I say in confusion.
He smiles widely, signaling to the bartender to bring two of the same drinks as mine. “I knew it was you. That blond hair and square shoulders were a dead giveaway.”
“What are you doing here? The next time I expected to see you was on the field in October.” I certainly didn’t expect to see him here.
I stand and we clasp hands in a half-hug. “I could say the same thing about you.” He grins, settling onto the barstool next to mine. “I’m here to reconnect with the love of my life,” he says casually.
“Love of your—” I pause, remembering the conversation we had over dinner once when I was in sophomore year. “Hold up, are you talking about Coach Summers’s daughter?”
“Yeah.” He eases back a little when the bartender returns with two glasses of whiskey. “I asked her to go on vacation with me, and she said yes.”
I raise my eyebrows. “And you thought coming on a cruise was the best option?”
He shrugs. “My girl has a history of running. I wanted to make sure she had no way of leaving without talking.”
I can relate.
“Why didn't you just take her on a private yacht?”
He narrows his eyes, smirking. “Sounds a little serial killer to me. We haven’t been around each other for longer than a day over the last few years.
I wanted to at least give her the option to talk to other people if we get in an argument—which, knowing us, is pretty likely. ” He chuckles. “Bella’s feisty.”
“So I’ve heard from Coach.”
I take a long sip of my drink.
“What about you?” he says. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at camp, Rookie? This isn’t college football anymore. You’ve got to prove you’re worth that first-round-pick position.”
“Don’t need to be there for two weeks. That’s when it all starts.”
He hums in disbelief. “So you're so that organized you thought you'd take a cruise by yourself right before the most important year of your life? Please tell me I'm wrong?”
“You are. I'm here with my soon-to-be wife.”
Drew's eyebrows shoot up. “Soon-to-be wife? So you’re engaged?”
“Not just yet.”
“Oh, shit. Are you proposing on the ship?”
I’ve proposed everywhere else. I might as well add it to the list, but I shake my head.
“No. It's—complicated.”
The words hang in the air between us, and Drew studies me for a moment before his lips quirk into a knowing smile.
“Oh, trust me, I know complicated.”
Before I can ask him what he means, a hand lands on Drew's shoulder. “Table should be ready in about ten minutes, babe.”
A stunning blonde smiles at him before she kisses him on the cheek. Since it’s not enough for him, he reaches up, cups her cheek, and kisses her. Okay, I get why he doesn’t want her running. She’s beautiful. Not my type, but then again, I don’t think I have a type anymore.
I think I have Honey.
When he breaks away, he keeps his arm around her waist.
“Bella, I’d like to introduce you to Zach Evans.”
She snorts. “Do you really think this man needs an introduction?” She holds out her hand, and I take it to shake. “My father might not be your biggest fan, Drew, but all he talks about is his team at Thanksgiving. I know more about Zach than I’d like to admit on a first meeting.”
Drew hums in what’s clearly annoyance as he holds onto his girlfriend a little tighter.
“It’s good to meet you,” I say. “And don’t worry. I feel like I know you too, given the number of times I’ve looked at the photo of you in London while Coach yelled at me.”
That low hum from Drew turns into a louder growl.
“He still has the photo up?” she asks, surprised.
“And the one of your sister at her ballet recital.”
“Well, that's cute. I haven't been in his office in a long time. Not since everything—” she waves her hand between her and Drew.
“What happened?”
Bella's eyebrows shoot up. “You don't know?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing important,” Drew cuts her off.
She laughs. “Oh, yeah. Sure. So unimportant, my dad convinced the college to change the uniform color to get rid of the bad vibes we apparently left behind.”
“It’s not relevant anymore. We're here, and together. That's what matters.”
I let it go since I’ve only known this woman for about ninety seconds.
“Miss Summers?” A waiter taps Bella on the shoulder. “Your table is ready.”
“Thank you.”
Drew takes his two drinks and stands.
“Oh, we’ll take your drinks to the table, sir,” the waiter says.
Drew thanks him with a tip.
“Are you joining?” he asks me, already reaching for my glass.
“Oh, no. I’m staying here.”
Bella looks down at my drink, then over my shoulder. “Are you here alone?”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “My, uh, girlfriend is feeling a little seasick, so I let her rest.”
It’s not a lie—not really.
“Aww, well, you should come and eat with us then.”
Drew pulls her closer and whispers something in her ear.
I shake my head. “Nah, I'm good. You guys enjoy your night. I'll grab something from the buffet.”
“The buffet? You know if you haven't got a reservation, you're screwed on night one,” Bella says. “The buffet will be insane right now. I've been on ships like this before. Believe me when I say I've seen things, Zach. Violent things.”
“I’ve been tackled by Jackson James. I’m used to violent things.”
She laughs it off. “Come on. I’m stuck with this guy for two weeks. Give me someone else to talk to for one night.”
The waiter leans forward. “It’s a booth, sir. There would be plenty of room for you.”
I glance at Drew, who just shrugs. If he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it.
I consider checking my phone to see if Honey’s texted me, but that’s wishful thinking. I know she hasn’t. The woman hasn’t texted me since I got drafted. I guess eating with them is better than eating on my own while replaying every word from the hallway.
“Yeah, okay.” I stand, leaving a bill on the bar.
Bella beams before locking her arm around Drew, and then mine.
Why do I feel like I’ve just been adopted by the king and queen of football?
“Dinner with two quarterbacks,” Bella drawls. “I think I’ve watched a few X-rated shows that start like this,” she jokes.
Drew doesn’t take his eyes off her. He leans down, his mouth close to her ear. “Just so we’re clear, the only quarterback you’re getting from now on is me.”
She laughs and nudges him with her hip. “Oh, please, I moved back from London just to be with you. Isn’t that enough?”
“It was until you decided to adopt Malibu Ken at the bar. Now I’m wondering if you’re going to upgrade to a younger model.” His face contradicts his words. He doesn’t look like a man who’s worried she’ll run or choose anyone but him.
I’d like that kind of certainty, and I plan on getting it soon