Chapter 18
NOVA
“Nova.”
I turn to see James Parker standing behind me in a sport coat and jeans, his lean face tight.
I pull off my headphones. “Hi.”
The past few days, I’ve thrown myself into working on the mural.
The guys on the court are coming together. It’s less of a literal rendition, the style implying energy and speed and connection.
I haven’t seen Clay since I caught him and Harlan in the hallway. He’s texted me multiple times, but I don’t feel I’m ready to talk.
Focusing on my art is hard when it involves the man I’ve fallen for and am not speaking to, but I try to forget that part.
“I’m still working on the third element,” I tell James. “If there’s a problem with the mural…”
“The problem isn’t how the wall looks—it’s that there’s a leak. You leaked it.”
My brows shoot up as I remember the photo from over a week ago. “I didn’t.”
“We have a big reveal at the gala. Our contract stated that this remained confidential.”
“And I've abided by that,” I assure him. “It could have been anyone. All the players and staff have access to the wall.”
“All of whom have been instructed not to share it and none of whom have motive to do so. I’ve been more than generous renegotiating the terms of our arrangement.”
I’m sure Clay would say fair, but whatever.
“I understand this gala means a lot to you.”
“It’s more than a lot. The Kodiaks were an expansion team no one thought would survive in the league. Since I bought them, I’ve turned them into a contender.”
“I’m sure everyone in the organization wants to make it a success.”
He frowns. “It’s my name on the door.”
“Are you the one scoring the points too?” I joke.
He doesn’t smile.
“Everyone in this building serves at my discretion. When they no longer suit me, they will be removed. I don’t want us to be in that position. Do you understand?”
His words have the effect of a bucket of ice water over my head.
I square my shoulders and look him in the eye.
“Yes. Yes, I think I do.”
I’m starting to get the feeling this gala isn’t even about the team—it’s about him.
Mari looks up from the stove where she’s cooking. “Pass me the parmesan.”
I hand her the grated cheese, and she tosses a bunch in, then some more.
“I thought dairy caused problems?” I ask, surprised.
“Honestly, I’ve been craving it lately.”
“James was such a prick,” I say, waving my half-full glass of wine.
“Harlan doesn’t much like him either,” she admits.
“I figured. But I expected you to say something like, ‘Money makes the world go 'round, Nova.’”
She cocks her head, reaching for her own wine. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You do a little.”
Her eyes roll, and I find a smile.
“James is bored and trying to make his mark somewhere. His family made headlines for their business acumen, and he wants to see his name in the papers too.”
“I didn’t leak the photos. You don’t think James did it himself?”
“No. The fact that these got out without him knowing pissed him off, but probably more was the fact his name wasn’t mentioned once.”
“Then someone else must’ve done it, probably as a prank.”
When Mari asked me over for dinner, I jumped at it.
“I do have good news," I say. "This gallery owner in New York wants to have an exhibition of my art.”
“Really?!”
“Mhmm. I wasn’t sure if I was going to take it, but with the way James is talking, I need to start figuring out my next steps.”
“You never liked an ultimatum. When we were six or seven, you were running around naked, and Mom and Dad told you to put your clothes on for dinner or you could swim in the lake the entire time we were gone and we’d pick you up after. You dove back in without a second glance.”
“It backfired. Even though there was a lifeguard, Mom went to get hot dogs, and all of you had to stay at the beach and eat on a blanket.”
“It was fun,” she says, grinning. “What made you stop being that girl?”
“A lot of things.” I take a big gulp of wine. “Mom and Dad dying. You always making the right moves. I started to feel like I wasn’t helping things by going my own direction. So, I tried to go with the flow instead of making waves.”
She grabs my arm. “You can make waves with me.”
I smile.
Mari looks at my almost-empty glass. “We need a new bottle,” she insists, though she’s barely touched hers. “Want to go grab one?”
“What kind?”
“Whatever you like.”
I bounce down to the cellar and select two reds at random.
“Mar, I brought a spare in case one is from a fifteenth-century monastery and being saved for you and Harlan’s first-born or something…”
I trail off as I see her standing over the island, staring at the marble surface, the wooden spoon dripping onto the floor.
She holds up my phone. “Nova. Who is this?”
Grumpy Baller: I miss the fuck out of you. Can’t sleep without you here.
My stomach drops.
“Please tell me it’s not one of Harlan’s players. Miles likes to flirt, but you know better than—”
“It’s not Miles. It’s Clay.”
Her mouth falls open. “Nova. He’s an asshole.”
I set both wine bottles on the island and take a breath. “He’s a good guy. You don’t know him, not really. All anyone knows is what he presents to the media in interviews.”
“You don’t have the best track record for judgment.”
“You liked Brad too.” I turn one of the bottles before setting it down again.
“So, you’re sleeping with him.”
I square my shoulders. “I’m in love with him.”
She inhales sharply. “Nova… don’t say that.”
“You think I don’t know my own heart?” There’s an edge to my voice.
“I think when it comes to your heart or your head, your heart wins every time.”
“You fell for Harlan and got married six months later,” I counter.
“But I know him inside and out. It was a thought-out decision.”
Another text comes in.
Grumpy Baller: Harlan and I had a talk. He promised to keep it quiet as long as you need.
Mari’s eyes narrow. “Harlan knows?”
Dammit.
Her expression goes pale with shock or rage—I’m not sure which.
“We don’t keep secrets, Nova. We didn’t before you.”
It feels like she’s slapped me.
“I know you’re upset, Mar, but this isn’t my fault.”
I wanted to bond with my sister, and now I’ve made things more difficult by being here.
When I think it can’t get any worse, the door to the garage sounds.
“Hello?”
Harlan.
Mari stomps past me to her husband in the foyer. His suit hangs impeccably, but he looks tired—until he sees her and his eyes crinkle.
“It’s good to see you.”
“How long did you know about Clay and Nova?”
He looks between us, his expression tightening.
“Maybe I should go,” I murmur.
Harlan speaks first. “Maybe you should.”