Chapter 12
NOVA
When I get back from the stadium, I park in the massive driveway before heading inside.
I told Clay I didn’t have my sketchbook on me and I’d show him another time.
The way he dragged my body against his, surrounding me with his heat, his length. Every nerve in my body was throbbing.
Not to mention how he made that basket with his eyes closed.
For an instant, I wasn't the girl who doesn’t matter lusting after the hot superstar.
I enjoy being around him, but only if I can stay on even ground. I won’t let myself be drawn in, be weak and gullible.
But the second Clay sees the drawing of him, he’ll know how fascinated I am by him.
It’s nearly dinnertime, and my stomach growls. The lights are on in the kitchen, and I head in there. The chef is probably nearly done.
But it’s Mari who lifts her head from the oven.
We’ve barely spoken two words since the day of the dress fitting. She’s been busy with work before taking time off for the wedding, but it’s still been cold.
Spending time at the court gave me the courage to try and put things right.
“Smells good in here,” I venture, leaning against the granite island. “Did the chef go on strike?”
Mari sets the oven mitts on the counter and turns to face me. She swipes a piece of hair from her face.
“When Harlan and I started dating, we’d both come home after a long day and cook together with a bottle of wine.” She smiles. “He wasn’t a GM then. He was still trying for his big break.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“This is his first NBA GM job. He needs to do well.”
“I couldn’t find the merlot” —Harlan’s voice comes from the other doorway that heads downstairs—“but I’ve got a cab that will make you—"
Mari clears her throat.
“Oh. Hi, Nova.” He looks between us, sizing up the situation. “Let me give you ladies a moment.”
He opens the wine and pours two glasses, handing them to us before grabbing a third for himself.
“I didn’t know you cooked,” I comment.
“Not much since taking over the team. I spend most of my day getting grown men to agree on how to win basketball games.”
I think about the tension between him and Clay that he alluded to the day I arrived. It’s probably a misunderstanding, just a matter of people who want the same thing going about it in different ways.
“Do they get to see you like this? At home, relaxed?” I prompt. “I bet they’d love to be included.”
He looks at Mari and something passes between them.
“That’s an excellent idea.” Harlan takes his glass out the door to the living room.
“He’s pretty great,” I murmur.
“The best. I knew he was the one the first time I tried to cook for him and he said only if he could help.”
She turns toward the stove, and I round the island to peek at what’s in the oven.
“Lasagna. Yum.”
“It’s vegan with zucchini noodles. Dairy messes me up. I’d be out of commission all night from the cheese.”
“Since when?”
“Since I moved to Colorado.”
I turn that over.
“About the other day. I didn’t mean to spring that on you,” I say.
“I don’t understand what went down. You lost your job. And Brad."
“He left the firm. And me,” I add.
“How are you not freaking out about this?”
“Brad or work?”
“Both. I can’t believe you’re here, trying cakes and dresses when you don’t even know if you have a job to go back to.”
“They’re reviewing the circumstances. They’ll realize I wasn’t involved and give me my job back. It just takes time.”
They have to give me my job back, I remind myself.
She picks up her glass and takes a long drink. “Were you and Brad even engaged?”
“We were.” I grab my wine, too, squeezing the stem too hard. The feel of the ring on my finger is almost gone but not quite. “He asked me the month before. I wanted to tell you, but I figured I’d see you this fall and wanted to surprise you in person.”
“But?”
“But he stole money. They assumed because of our relationship that I might be in on it. That’s why they put me on leave pending an investigation.
“Brad had been wanting my help updating some client files, including billings. He had some big clients who retained him for multiple properties, and he was always making deals to save them money. Or so I thought. One day, one of them came asking questions. The next week, he was gone.”
Her eyes round in horror. “What about at home? There was no warning?”
Smiles that went as easily as they came.
Careless attention except when he was in his office.
Praise only when I did what he wanted.
I take a sip of my wine, the warm red flowing smoothly across my tongue.
“Maybe I should have known.” When I see how affectionate Harlan is with Mari, it reminds me how different Brad and I were.
“After we moved in together, I was so happy to be with him that I never questioned how things were. That when he took me to an industry event on his arm, it felt like a favor. He was successful and normal, and I wanted him to want me. I spent so much time trying that I never stopped to ask what it meant that he didn’t already want me. ”
Mari crosses to the fridge and pulls out a bag of prewashed lettuce and a pepper. “I’m sorry.”
I grab a cutting board and a knife and set both on the counter, then hold up both hands. “It’s fine.”
She tosses me the pepper, then gets a bowl for the lettuce.
It’s not fine exactly, but I don’t know how to have that conversation with my sister. We haven’t talked that openly in a long time.
Plus, for the first time today, I forgot about what happened. For hours.
Playing basketball was so much fun. I felt as though I was part of something. The way Clay included me, and taught me, and touched me…
Mari looks up. “I guess I take for granted that Mom and Dad cared about each other. Nothing else was stable, but I never questioned that.”
I start to chop the pepper in rhythmic slices.
“Remember when Dad learned to play the ukulele so he had an instrument while Mom sang?” she asks.
Nostalgia rocks me. “Yes. Mom had the most beautiful voice.”
“She used to sing that song. 'Home.' Whenever I had a bad day, she’d sing it to me.”
“I better than remember it. I recorded it.”
Her eyes round with nostalgia. “Really? Do you have it?”
“I’ll find it.” I make a mental note.
“We could use it in the wedding,” she goes on. “As part of the ceremony.”
“That’s a great idea!”
Mari sighs happily. “I want you to find a good man. Someone who can take care of you.”
My smile fades. “Did it ever occur to you that I can take care of myself?”
“No. From the time we were kids, you’d chase butterflies and sing songs and draw pictures. You got to be careless and irresponsible. It was my job to keep you safe, to protect you.”
It takes a moment for that to sink in. I always knew she was more together than me but hadn’t realized how much that bothered her.
“Not anymore,” I vow. “I know you were passed over for that promotion when you came to help me out last year. You can stop saving me. I want to be here for you. But you have to give me a chance. Okay?”
My sister studies me for a moment. “Okay.”