Chapter 16 #2
And I have no idea which one of us is losing.
She shakes her head and sits back in her seat. “I don’t know. I think it’s a lot of information for me to process for one night. Let’s just talk about something … lighter?”
There it is. The exit ramp of conversation.
I study her for a second longer. She won’t meet my eyes now. She’s focusing on the candle. The table. Anywhere but me.
She’s not indifferent. Indifferent doesn’t look like that.
“Lighter?” I say slowly, giving her the out she clearly wants. “Okay.” But I can’t shake the feeling I just said something that shook her, and I don’t know if that’s good or very, very bad.
“Tell me about your time in New Orleans.”
“What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything.”
She folds her hands around her glass. “Did you like living there?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “It was…a lot. That is one non-stop party.”
“I can see that. I’ve only been there a few times for fun, and it was a whirlwind. But the food. Beignets, jazz … heaven.” She has a small smile on her face, like she’s trying to hold it in.
“Yeah, the food was top-tier for sure. And the fans were incredible. Very loyal and very loud. Sometimes a little terrifying.” I chuckle. “It was good for me though. I feel like my time there helped me find my way in the league. Forced me to grow up a bit, if that makes sense.”
She nods, her gaze dropping to the table.
“What about you?” I say, leaning back slightly. “Are you still terrorizing public skating rinks?”
Her mouth curves. There she is.
“I do not terrorize,” she says. “I inspire.”
“You dragged me onto the ice with zero warning.”
“You’re welcome,” she counters. “I’d be back to my antics if it wasn’t springtime, thawing the ice. That and I’m swamped with work.”
“All work and no play, then?” I study her.
She lifts a shoulder and still eyes me like she’s trying to figure something out. “Pretty much, yeah.”
I don’t want to press her if she’s not willing to tell me more, so I turn the conversation back to football. “So … Aliette Grant, what’s it like, growing up in a football dynasty?” I smile, then take a drink of my water.
Finally, a warmer smile breaks across her face.
“Well, it’s all I’ve known, so I’m not really sure how to answer that, I guess.
My dad can tell you the story about how his great-grandfather bought the team in the 1920’s for what would be considered pocket change now.
” She smirks. “Not to mention, my mom’s family has their own ties to football.
So, it’s just really what our life is. Holidays, vacations …
all revolve around the season, the draft, and playoff math. ”
“Wait, your mom’s family too?” I ask, surprised.
“Yep. My mom’s maiden name is Presley.” She looks at me to see if I’m connecting the dots.
“As in the Columbus Bulls?”
“That’s the one.” She nods and shrugs.
“Oh wow. So … Presley Grant. Big name to live up to.”
“Presley has a big personality, so she carries it just fine.” She laughs. “We’re really only involved with the Bulls for annual board and shareholders meetings at this point anyway.”
“And it’s just you and your sister?”
She nods. “My dad was an only child, so it’s all up to Presley and me to keep the Titan legacy alive. My mom’s brother is more involved with the Bulls, and my cousins on that side are somewhat involved, but not like Presley and I are.”
“Do you feel a lot of pressure, knowing that? Is it something you and your sister even want?”
“Of course. I love the game and everything that goes along with it. Well, not the publicity part of it, which is why my family has kept me and my sister sheltered from the media for most of our lives. But the whole infrastructure, the energy, the challenges … I love it.”
That explains why I couldn’t find much online about her. Family privacy.
“Presley feels the same?”
“She does. I mean, medicine was something that was important to her, and she got to pursue that dream and incorporate it into the family business.”
“Then I guess we’re all pretty lucky to be doing what we feel passionate about.”
She gives me a faint smile. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
The server sets down our edamame and sushi, and for a second, we both just stare at it like civilized adults pretending we’re not sitting on top of unresolved tension.
She picks up her chopsticks with annoying elegance.
“So,” I say, nodding toward her plate, “you’re lucky I’m not allergic to fish.”
Her brows lift. “Is that a thing?”
“It’s absolutely a thing.”
“Well then, I would’ve chosen pizza.”
“That’s insulting.”
“To sushi?”
“To me. Unless it’s the best pizza in Manhattan.”
She smiles and pops a piece into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You survived.”
“Barely. Raw fish is a bold choice for a reconciliation dinner.”
“Who said this is a reconciliation?” she asks lightly.
I ignore that. “You brought me to your favorite place. That feels strategic.”
She shrugs. “You seemed like the type who could handle it.”
“What type is that?”
“Adventurous. Slightly reckless. Mildly arrogant.”
“Mildly?”
She tilts her head. “Fine. Moderately.”
I laugh. God, I’ve missed this version of her.
She reaches for the soy sauce, dips carefully. “Besides, sushi tells you
a lot about a person.”
“Oh, does it?”
“Mm-hmm. If you drown it in soy sauce, you don’t trust the chef.
If you refuse to try anything raw, you don’t like risk.”
“And what does ordering spicy tuna say?”
She studies me like she’s evaluating a case file. “That the person likes control. But also likes a little danger.”
“That’s wildly specific.”
“I’m rarely wrong.”
I take a bite and watch her over the rim of my glass. “So, what does ordering edamame say about you?”
She pauses just a fraction too long before answering. “That I know what I like.”
Alie seems to be letting her guard down a little and I’m getting to see the woman I met two years ago. Fun, easy, Alie.
As we finish our food, a silence settles around us. Not awkward, just quiet.
When the server brings our bill, I hand her my card without looking at it.
Alie smiles. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Happy you said yes to coming.” I laugh lightly.
“Did you give me a choice? I thought it was more like, ‘Say yes.’” She mimics my voice, sits back in her seat, smiles, and crosses her arms over her chest.
“You didn’t fight it too hard.” I smirk.
She tilts her head and gives a subtle nod.
I get my card back from the server and put it back in my wallet.
“I should probably get going,” she says, pulling her phone out of her bag. “Oh wow. Yeah, it’s getting late.”
I reach out to touch her hand. “Wait. Will you take a walk with me?”
She hesitates, but only for a second. “Okay, but not for long.”
I stand and move around to her seat. “I’ll take it.” I hold out my hand to her, and she places hers in mine.
We walk outside into the cool night, the city still buzzing around us even though it’s getting later in the evening. Our pace is slow, and our shoulders are touching, but she doesn’t move away.
“This feels familiar.” I look down at her and smile.
“What does? Walking?”
“Yeah. Walking with you specifically,” I say, my voice certain.
She exhales slowly, tensing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
I stop and turn to face her. “Why not?”
“For the most minor of reasons, I’m your boss. Lines will blur, and things could get really … complicated,” she mumbles.
I reach for her hands. “I don’t mind complicated.” I pull her in closer to me. “And I’m not going to ignore this connection between us.”
“Liam …” She looks conflicted.
“Alie, let me ask you something. Did you have fun tonight? With me?”
She tilts her head to the side, still not pulling out of my hold. “I did.”
“So did I. And I think we should do it again. And often.”
“You know, you’re kind of bossy.” Her lips twitch.
“I think you like it when I’m bossy.” I smirk.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, I’ll take it. But, Alie, don’t make me wait too long.”
She huffs, “Or what?”
“I can be relentless when I need to be. And I’m not gonna let you walk away from me again.” A smile tugs at my mouth.
“Is that right?” She’s staring at my mouth.
“Yep.” I lean in and whisper in her ear, “And this time, I have an advantage.”
“What advantage do you have?” She sucks in a breath, clearly affected by me.
“I know where you work now.” I pull back, but still close enough that it wouldn’t take much for me to kiss her.
A laugh bubbles out of her lightly. “Easy there, MVP.”
We linger there, close. Both of us smiling. The moment stretches until I can’t take it anymore, and I close the distance and take her lips in a soft, testing kind of kiss.
She doesn’t pull away, so I deepen the kiss, winding my arms around her waist, pulling her in close to me.
Her hands slide up my chest, and she grips my shirt, as if she needs to steady herself.
And I move one hand to cup her jaw, not wanting this kiss to ever stop.
The sounds of the city fade around us, until all I hear is the rush of our breaths, both of us chasing the pull it seems we’ve both been missing.
When we finally break apart, she’s a little breathless, eyes still closed, cheeks flushed.
“Alie”—I kiss her softly—“you good?”
I can’t help but feel a bit smug.
“Yeah, um … yeah, I’m good.” She opens her eyes and clears her throat and tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let go. “I really should go.”
I want to keep her with me. I don’t want this night to end, but I also know that pushing too hard might just push her away.
“Okay,” I whisper, but neither of us moves.
“Liam, seriously, I should go. It’s getting late, and I have an early morning tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you to the car, but, Alie, you need to let go of me so we can move.” I smile against her lips.
“Right, yes.” She releases my shirt and steps back. She pulls her phone out of her bag. After she taps out a few times, she puts her phone back in.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
We both turn, and I place my hand on the small of her back. We walk quietly to where her driver has pulled up.
I open the door for her, and she turns to me. “Thank you for dinner.”
“Thank you for meeting me.”
Leaning in, I can’t help but kiss her one more time. This kiss is meant to be a goodbye, but the heat sparks quickly. It’s the kind of kiss that promises trouble. The kind that makes her take hold of my shirt again, tugging me closer.
She pulls back when her driver clears his throat, and she looks a little dazed.
Yep, I did that. Again.
“Good night,” she says softly before turning and ducking into the car.
“Night, Alie,” I say before closing the door. Our eyes meet through the window before the car drives away.
I stand there, watching her until I can’t see the lights of her car anymore, and a smile tugs on my lips.
This isn’t over.
Not even close.