Chapter 11
MAN-TO-MAN: EACH DEFENDER COVERS A SPECIFIC OFFENSIVE PLAYER.
Ineed more perspective than I can find at the bottom of a coffee cup, so I will risk Amy, Emery, and Christin’s wrath by calling them at o’ dark thirty in the morning. It also says a hell of a lot about our friendship that I know I can do so without facing certain death.
Back in my room, armed with coffee, I review every one of my concerns with staying.
With leaving. With being around Troy. Finally, after finishing the coffee, I realize it’s closer to five on the east coast. Mentally grateful Amy wakes up at the crack of dawn in Oklahoma to ride before class, Christin’s shift starts at six, and Emery has no problems rolling over and falling back asleep.
I add all of them to a multi-person FaceTime and press the camera icon.
Within a few seconds after I hear the infamous bleep-bleep-bleep, all three of their faces appear. Christin and Amy’s faces both hold concern, whereas Emery’s shoved her eye mask to the top of her head and is blinking at me as if I’m an apparition. It’s Amy who demands, “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t even know how to answer that.”
Suddenly Emery’s fully cognizant, realizing I’m not just calling to check in. “First, where are you?”
“Italy. I’m supposed to be here for a month.”
Christin picks up on the nuance. “Supposed to?”
I scrub my hand through my hair. “Some things happened when I checked in yesterday.”
Amy asks, “What things?”
I look away from the camera before answering, “Well, first, Tenuta delle Ombre is everything I expected and more.”
Emery hums, “This sounds promising.”
“The vineyard, from what I’ve seen so far, is gorgeous. Chestnut trees line the drive. Miles and miles of grapes. There’s even a castle on the property…” My voice trails off.
“I sense a ‘but’ in there,” Christin notes.
“Or is it a ‘butt’?” Emery jokes, making a grabby motion with her hands.
They crack up, but I don’t join in. Instead, I wait for the laughter to die down a bit before calmly agreeing, “Troy has an incredible body—one I’m certain he honed while being in the NFL. Despite his injury, it’s obvious he maintained himself while being here at the vineyard.”
Silence. There’s so much of it, I’d be concerned if it wasn’t for the fact I can see their faces in varying degrees of shock. It’s Amy who breaks the silence. “Troy, as in Troy Walsh?”
“One and the same.”
“What is he doing at the vineyard?” Surprisingly, Christin’s question isn’t hostile, merely curious.
“His family owns Tenuta delle Ombre.”
“That’s impossible. Look at the website; it’s been owned by the Ferreros for hundreds of years,” Emery protests.
“Which apparently is his mother’s family. In fact, I met his aunt Vincenza last evening.”
“You’ve got to be joking!” Emery exclaims.
“Not even close.”
“Do you think he could get her to say ‘yute?’ Just once?” Christin pleads.
“Forget your My Cousin Vinny obsession, Chris. What did he say? Did he bring up the Personal Penalty Flag you were engaged to?” Amy asks point-blank.
I snort. “Is that his nickname of the week?”
“Since the season started, that’s what’s trending on social media.” Emery smirks before adding, “He gets sacked, and social media spreads virtual confetti like a new Kensington record just dropped overnight.”
“The team is getting more coverage for their shit than any good plays,” Amy concurs.
“Which means they’re constantly in the press,” Christin calls out.
We all cackle before Christin asks me seriously, “How aware of the fall out are you?”
“You mean the fact Troy punched Bryce?” I give them a summary of the portion of the video Troy showed me last night.
“Girl, there’s so much more to it than that,” Amy warns.
“What do you mean?” My brow furrows.
Within seconds, each of them have dropped links into our group chat. The headlines make my eyes widen:
Ex-NFL Kicker Calls Flag on Former Team: Ex-Kicker Punts.
Walsh Denounces Lightning Organization.
No Extra Points: Ex-Kicker, Walsh, Not Involved in Team Takedown
“He’s had your back and your side, Maya,” Amy states.
“Since the very moment the shit hit the fan,” Christin chimes in.
“We know you needed to distance yourself. But we needed to protect you,” Emery defends.
A lump forms in my throat. These are my girls—my family by choice. My “Thanks” comes out husky.
“You’d do the same for us,” Amy says confidently.
“In a heartbeat. So…you think it’s a good idea for me to stay.”
They’re silent for a moment. So am I, long enough to hear the tractors in the distance, making me wonder what is being done on the property to prepare for harvest. I long to explore the vineyard, but, “After years of my trust being abused, I need reassurance. I may for a while. Not because Troy’s a bad guy,” I tack on quickly.
“But maybe because of it,” Amy asks gently.
“Yeah.”
Emery pulls her phone closer, her voice steady before she reminds me why I’m there. “Stay. Not for him, but for you. And if…”
“If what?”
“If the man who spoke up for those articles shows himself to you, the entire world is already on your side,” Christin states bluntly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, open your eyes,” Amy rolls her eyes.
My breath catches, but I can’t un-hear the words. They dare me to imagine what ifs and possibilities with a man who has already shown me he has more integrity than the one I was willing to marry.
After spending a few more minutes on the phone with my girls, I hang up. Walking over to my closet, I reach for the suitcase I never unpacked last night.
My decision’s made.