23. Victoria
VICTORIA
I’d been warned and should have seen it coming.
But it happened. I’d been prided.
Gotten by the pride?
Tricked. I’d been straight up tricked by the infamous Utah wives and girlfriends group, the Pride.
“You didn’t mention there would be another guest,” I spoke through a tight smile.
Madi put her hand on my back, ushering us toward the table. The table was set for four. Not three.
Four because it wasn’t just a dinner with her and Erik. Nope. This wasn’t a catch-up with friends.
It was a setup.
Erik and Josh stood when we got to the table, and Josh quickly pulled out my chair as Erik did the same for his wife.
The wife I thought of approximately a hundred seconds ago as a friend.
Erik threw me a cautious smile, and I hoped he read the threat in my eyes. There would be payback.
“Hi,” Josh whispered over my shoulder, and I turned my head enough to smile. “I didn’t know you were coming either.”
That made me feel marginally better. He wasn’t in on this.
It was a setup by the other two.
Once the guys sat, I looked between the guilty parties. “What is this?”
Erik’s eyes widened at the same time Madi nearly snorted out her water.
“A dinner with friends,” Erik lifted his menu to cover his face.
“Coward,” Madi rolled her eyes before focusing on me. “Look, we like both of you very much. Consider you both friends. You went from being happy together to. . . not as happy apart.”
“It’s been two days,” I blurted as the server arrived.
He gave me a strange look before asking for our drink order and disappearing.
“More like three,” Josh finally spoke. “I mean, we didn’t really see each other on Wednesday––”
“There’s only a week left, so we’re working at an accelerated pace.” Madi interrupted. “Two days––” Josh opened his mouth, and she huffed, “Fine, we’ll go with two and a half days. That’s like two months in normal time.”
“I don’t think––” I tried, but she cut me off with a glare.
“You two have undeniable chemistry. You like her,” she pointed from Josh to me. “And you like him.” Her finger moved in the opposite direction. “So that is not the problem.” She leaned toward me. “Then what is?”
We were doing this? In front of Josh? In public? My chest was hot, and I knew my cheeks were bright red. “Madi.”
“He’s willing,” she checked with Josh, who whispered a yes. “Ball’s in your court.”
“Or puck’s in your zone,” Erik offered, but was immediately shushed by his wife.
Was this a nightmare? A waking dream? I’m pretty sure I could think of a couple of worse situations, but not a lot.
“Madi, it’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is.” She leaned back as our drinks arrived and hurriedly ordered family-style dishes for all of us to share. “Josh, do you want to date her?”
“Yes,” he gritted out. “But not by force.”
I wanted to reach out to him under the table, but held back.
“See, it’s up to you.”
“We live on opposite sides of the country,” I finally dump out the reasons that stopped me from letting myself feel more for him.
“He has a chaotic schedule, and I’m actively pursuing a contract with an equally crazy schedule that will not line up at all with his.
As much as I like Josh, and recognize that we do have some pretty powerful chemistry, there are outside forces we cannot control.
If we start something now, I know I’ll get attached.
I’ll grow deeper feelings, and it won’t work out. Why set myself up for hurt?”
I let out a breath and fell back in my seat, staring at the clear glass in front of me. I didn’t want to see any of their reactions. This was when they’d argue that long-distance relationships could work, and they’d be right. Some of them can.
But it wasn’t what I wanted.
I didn’t want scattered video calls or texts. I wanted in-person. I wanted quality time. I wanted to be able to hold and touch and kiss him.
Erik reached out and took a sip of his drink.
Josh didn’t move.
I didn’t look up to see what Madi was doing.
An antipasto platter was placed in the middle of the table.
No one reached for it.
I lowered my head into my right hand, leaning away from Josh.
“Told you,” Erik whispered, and I looked over in time to see Josh glare at him.
“Told him what?” Madi asked before I could.
“That she was scared of getting hurt,” Erik crossed his arms, looking far too smug. “I knew that was the reason you pushed him away.” He looked at me. “You’re afraid of falling for him and the season being too much and not making it.”
“Yes.” I really didn’t like how easily he brushed it off, like it wasn’t a valid concern.
“So it’s not me?” Josh’s voice was quiet.
I summoned the courage to face him and wanted to take it all back, if only to keep that hurt and confusion from ever crossing his expression again. “No, Josh.”
“You work remotely, right?” Madi asked.
“I attend a weekly meeting when I’m home, but it’s not required. Most reporters remote in.”
“Then you could move, if you wanted,” she tried.
“Yes,” I admitted. “As long as I’m close to a major airport.”
“Like Salt Lake,” Erik wagged his brows. “It’s international and everything.”
“I would never ask you to move so we could try dating,” Josh gently placed his hand on my arm. “You don't need to even think along those lines.”
“But it would be one less obstacle.” Madi was trying and failing to contain her smile. “We have plenty of friends with rentals or open rooms.”
Josh closed his eyes and shook his head. “Guys, stop.”
“The seasons do overlap, so you’d be travelling when he’s travelling,” Madi ignored him.
“So we’d just not see each other from November to April or May?” Josh rubbed his thumb over the bone on my wrist. “I get it now. It's not the life or relationship she wants. It doesn’t sound all that great to me, either.”
Could he not be kind and understanding? It would make this a lot easier if he would be a jerk.
“What if you did remote interviews? Instead of going to the games,” Erik tried.
“Now you want her to uproot her life, move across the country, and give up the career she’s been working toward for years?” Josh ran his free hand through his hair, leaving it mussed in a distractingly attractive way. “I would never want that for her.”
“I’m just saying, if you want to be together, there’s a way,” he tried to argue.
“As long as she gives up everything, and I change nothing.” Josh’s patience seemed to be ending.
“You don’t decide where you live, when you play, or when you’re home,” Madi needlessly pointed out.
“That leaves her to make all the sacrifices? That’s absurd. I’d never want a relationship so out of balance.” Josh pushed away from the table and stood. “I’m not going to keep entertaining this.” He looked at me. “Can I walk you to your hotel?”
“What about dinner?” Madi pleaded. “We’ll drop it, I promise.”
“I don’t have an appetite anymore,” Josh said and held out his hand. It wasn’t even a question in my mind of what I should do.
I took it and let him help me stand, then glanced at Erik and Madi. “See you guys later.”
I didn’t have anything else to say, so we walked away, and it wasn’t until we were on the sidewalk that I realized Josh was still holding my hand.
“That was absurd,” he breathed out. “First, I didn’t know you were going to be there. Please don’t think I had anything to do with that.”
“Madi only mentioned Erik when she invited me.” I explained. “So I’m not surprised they did the same to you.”
He squeezed my hand and looked down like he’d just realized we were still connected, but I didn’t pull away. He didn’t either.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into them. Madi’s job has always been a priority. I can’t imagine anyone telling her to up and move or give it up in any way.”
“You don’t have to apologize for them.” That was the last thing I wanted. He’d stood up to them on my behalf.
“It’s just so unlike them. The Pride is all about empowering women and supporting them, especially in their careers.” He went on, “Giving up anything for a man? They would never push that.”
That was the same vibe I got from the women I’d met. Tonight was a major contrast to everything I thought I knew about them, and Madi.
“I don’t want you to think about anything they said, not for a second.” He stopped and faced me. “Don’t move, don’t change your goals.” He finally released my hand, and I hated the feeling of loss immediately. “You were right to want to keep things professional.”
“Just because it’s the most logical decision doesn't mean it isn’t hard,” I admitted, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s not what I want.”
“You…what do you mean?”
I slowly looked up. “I don’t want to not give us a chance.
I don’t want to put space between us. If all that mattered was listening to what I wanted, then we couldn’t be here right now.
” I focused on the buildings behind him; it was too hard to say this while looking at him.
“But what we want doesn't matter, you know? There are things in life we have to do, and sometimes that means we don’t get what we want.”
I wasn’t sure if that made sense; if he understood what I was trying to say. I wanted to run. I didn’t want to face these feelings. The disappointment. The longing. The what could have been.
“If both of our lives were completely different, we could be together?” he asked.
“Exactly,” I sighed and closed my eyes.
“That sucks,” he let out a small laugh. “But at least I know now it’s not because you didn’t like me. It wasn’t one-sided.”
“It was very mutual,” I smiled.
Why did it have to be this easy with him? Why could we stand here, admitting our feelings, accepting the truth of our defeat, and still enjoy it because we’re together? It didn’t make sense.
How could things feel this right when it was wrong for us?
My heart was begging me to say forget it. We’ll try. We’ll see if we can make it long-distance.
But neither of us wanted that.
Sometimes Mr. Right was in front of you, and you had to let him walk away.
“Do you want to get some pizza?” he said after a long stretch of silence.
I pretended to think about it. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Perfect.” He put his hand around my shoulders, and we walked further from the restaurant until we found a pizzeria and joined the line.
He stood behind me, close enough for me to feel his heat on my back. I wanted to lean into him, and it took all my self-control not to.
“What’s your go-to?” he leaned down to ask, his breath tickling my neck.
I stared down each label, as if putting all my focus on those would distract me from the shiver he’d caused.
I turned enough to say over my shoulder, “I’m a classic pepperoni girl.”
“Can’t go wrong with that.”
We stepped forward, and it was our turn to order. I asked for one slice, and he got one pepperoni and one veggie.
“There’s a spot over there. Will you grab it?” He pointed to a small table in the back corner.
“I can buy––”
“I know, but let me get this one.” He smiled and nodded toward the table again.
I shot him a playful glare, but snagged the spot and watched him carry our tray over. “For the lady,” he sat my plate down and a bottle of water before doing the same for his.
“Thank you,” I quickly took a sip and tried to relax.
This was the first time we’d been alone since the festival, and that felt like a million years ago. Despite what we’d talked about, I was even more nervous now.
“So, professionally speaking, have you met anyone you absolutely could not stand?”
I laughed and lifted my slice, “Several.” I took a bite while he leaned forward.
“Who?”
I swallowed. “I’m not naming names.”
“Fine, organization?”
“NFL.” I said, and he nodded. “MLS.”
His brows lifted. “Oh, there’s more?”
“NBA, MLB, NHL.”
“One of us?”
“I’ve met truly awful people in every league, women too.”
He folded his veggie slice in half and took a bite.
“I have a short list of players I won’t interview again.”
His brows rose higher, but his mouth was still full.
“I just let someone else get it. I’ll talk to their teammates or reps, but I will not put myself through a conversation with them again.”
“And your boss is okay with that?”
I shrugged. “So far, it hasn’t been a major issue. There’s been times when they complain, and I have to remind them of what happened."
“Were they just rude?”
“No, I can get past that. It’s if they’ve ever harassed me, in any form. That’s my line.” It was one of the worst parts of my job. Men in power that think they can do or say anything they want to me.
“And your bosses still ask you to work with them?” He seemed disgusted.
“Yeah.” They just wanted the story, at whatever cost. “It’s hard enough being a woman in this industry, so I try not to cry wolf. Plus, I’m rarely solo. My cameraperson is a witness and has always backed me up when there’s a real issue.”
“I’m sorry. I hate that for you.” He wiped his mouth. “New question, then––”
“Don’t I get one?”
“No, you get to ask me questions every day. Now it’s my turn.” He narrowed his eyes, and I laughed and played along.
“Okay, go for it.”
“If you could eat only one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
“Nachos.” The answer was immediate. “Breakfast nachos, veggie nachos, beef or chicken or shrimp. There are so many ways to mix it up.”
He nodded. “I feel the same way about pizza. Next, would you rather have toes for fingers or fingers for toes?”
I cringed and burst out laughing. “Fingers for toes. I could pick things up!”
“Same,” he bit his lip. “Okay, would you rather always have wet socks, or a rock in your shoe?”
“Oh, no!” I gasped. “A rock?”
“Really?”
“I hate wet socks. I’d be miserable.”
“But you’re constantly stepping on a rock. I think you have to do wet socks.”
“No way.”
“Fine,” he tapped the table. “Oh, this one will be hard for you. Would you rather always whisper or always shout?”
“Josh!” I laughed. “That’s terrible! I’d get fired either way.”
He chuckled. “You have to choose!”
“Fine, shout, I guess? I’d be worthless if no one could hear me.”
“Yeah, whispering would be useless for me.” He narrowed his eyes like he had come up with a good one. “Never know where you’re going or when you’re going?”
I lowered my pizza. “I hate that one.”
“You’re a planner?”
I nodded. “Oh, both would absolutely kill me. I’d be panicking all the time.”
“Really?” he leaned back. “I figured you’d be used to going where you’re told and when.”
“Yeah, but I have some warning.”
“So, you’re not spontaneous.”
I shrugged. “Nope.”
He nodded like he was making a mental note, and I was lost in how much fun this was. How effortless.
I couldn't remember a time I’d had this much fun with someone, playing a silly game. We were getting to know each other, even arguing, and I wanted so much more.
So for the rest of the night, I let myself forget that it couldn't happen.