Chapter 41
AVERY
LATE JULY (TWO DAYS LATER)
“Avery, wait up!”
It’s the Thursday night of All-Star Weekend, and Sarah’s in the lobby of our glitzy Brooklyn hotel. She got here a day early to handle some extra media duties and must have seen me dragging my roller bag inside.
“Hey, Sar.” I put the bag down and accept her hug. “Let me get checked in.”
“They’ll help with all that.” She flags down a hotel employee. “Hi, this is Avery Parker, she’s on the Eastern squad. Would you mind grabbing her room key and making sure her bags get up there?”
“Of course.” The staffer turns to me. “I’ll be right back, if you want to set the bag down. And it’s an honor to have you both here, I’m a big UConn fan.”
“Even better,” Sarah says, slipping him a tip.
As he heads off to get my room sorted, Sarah glances around and waves to another player from Detroit.
“Oh man, you’re going to keep us socializing all weekend,” I tease her.
“That’s what we’re here for. Sort of. Basketball too, I guess,” she jokes back. “I just want to see as many friends as possible before Malcolm gets here tomorrow. Too bad Rawley has training camp.”
That’s right, my good friend, whose house I’m currently living in, doesn’t know that Rawley and I are ending things. Taylor hasn’t really started the messaging about it yet, other than planting an article on how we’ll be apart this week because I’m here.
Nothing that Sarah doesn’t know already, and I’m finding it hard to bring it up to her myself.
It’s not like anything has changed between Rawley and me. We haven’t texted since that second day of his camp, and I’m not sure what I would even say.
But I miss him even more than I did a few days ago.
“Here’s your key card, Ms. Parker. You’re Room 403, and your things will be waiting for you.”
“Okay great, thank you so much.” I turn to Sarah. “I’m going to go upstairs and get out of my travel clothes. Let me know where you end up, and I’ll join you.”
“You got it,” she promises.
My room is beautiful, the views incredible, with the Brooklyn Bridge and East River in sight.
I scan through my phone messages and see several from family and friends, including my parents who are coming to the game on Saturday. Another one jumps out.
JACK: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!
Since Jack’s in Manhattan, and there are little snippets of downtime in our Friday schedule, he and I are grabbing coffee.
It should be nice. It’s been a while since we caught up.
AVERY: Me too. Meet me in the hotel lobby and we’ll find a place.
He puts a thumbs-up on the message, and I set the phone down to unpack and get changed before Sarah presses me to join her somewhere.
It’s then that I notice the flower bouquet on the table. There’s an unusual look to it, with purple lilacs and white roses the dominant flowers, but also pears mixed in at the base.
It almost seems like a piece of art? Everything looks real, so it can’t be a fake hotel decoration.
I approach it and see a card. I guess it is real then.
Dear Avie,
Congrats on being picked for the All-Star game. It’s been awesome to watch you make it happen over the last couple months.
I’m gonna bet it’s the first of many.
Rook
PS I thought these would be cool to have for your days there. Your favorite perfume, come to life.
Oh my god.
Rawley sent this?
But how? Why?
I sit down in the chair by the table, breathless.
It takes me a solid three minutes to get my brain unscrambled enough to know I need to thank him.
I snap a picture of the bouquet and text it to him.
AVERY: OMG thank you. This is so beautiful.
It takes him only a few minutes to respond. He’s probably at their training camp hotel for the night by now.
RAWLEY: I’m glad you got it. I ordered it with the hotel’s help during your last road trip, before…
Before the Stefani incident. Before I ended things.
AVERY: Well, thank you.
RAWLEY: Have a great All Star weekend.
After heart-reacting to that comment, I don’t know what else to say.
I have an observation for myself though.
I think I might have totally screwed up.
This is literally the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me.
And it’s from my fake boyfriend. Who I caught feelings for. Who I’m pretty sure did the same.
Who’s only been kind, caring, and funny as hell.
Who is now on the path to becoming my ex–fake boyfriend because I freaked out.
Crap.
Sarah texts me a minute later, providing a distraction as a bunch of players and staff are gathering for a fun night before the official activities begin.
The only problem?
When I come back to my room, the last thing I see before I fall asleep is the bouquet on the table.
Oh, and the first thing I eye when I wake up the next day, the bouquet on the table.
Not helpful.
“Aves,” Jack says as I approach him in the hotel lobby later that next morning. It’s ten, so before any of the major obligations for the day have started. I’m going to be in the three-point contest later, but it’s hours away.
He kisses me on the cheek and I make sure to keep space between us otherwise. The last thing I need is some crappy photo to get out that makes it seem like I’m off seeing another guy.
“Let’s find a place to get coffee,” I suggest.
He looks at me with disbelief. “You do realize how famous you are now, right?”
His words prompt me to look around, and a lot of people are staring at me. A few seem about to ask for autographs.
Which I don’t mind giving, but yeah, Jack and I are unlikely to be able to catch-up in public with all these dynamics.
“One sec, let me talk to the hotel staff.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in a small private room off the hotel restaurant, coffee and pastries before us.
“Does this work?” the manager who’s helping asks.
“It’s perfect.”
We take our seats and Jack grabs a danish.
“So how are you? Really?” he asks before taking a bite.
“Honestly, the basketball side of life is incredible.”
“Obviously.” He smiles.
“We’re definitely going to be in the playoffs, with a chance for the championship.”
“Everything good with your teammates? They’re cool?”
I relax a fraction more. It’s nice to have a friend that I trust as much as Jack.
“Yeah, now the vibe is as solid as it was at UConn. Jumping in with everyone had little bumps at first but that’s normal.”
He smiles. “It’s got to be an adjustment for sure. What a year for you, though. Everything you wanted. I’m happy for you, Aves.”
“Thank you.” I grin back at him. “It’s not enough though. I’ve gotta stay focused on raising my game even more, plus helping the team win the championship.”
“Just make sure you stop to smell the roses.”
A shiver goes through me. He has no clue how apt that phrase is this weekend.
“Yeah.”
He brushes his hands off, having finished the danish.
“And this thing with Rawley? It’s going okay?” He picks up his coffee to take a sip.
“It’s…going.”
He pauses with his mug in midair. “That doesn’t sound great.”
I can’t tell him the truth, so I share a vague version. “I just don’t know that it’s leading anywhere long term.”
“Huh, okay, well, that tracks.” His tone is light, like a tease.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the same as it was with us. We’re not really in a time in our lives where a serious relationship is a priority.”
“Yeah.” I agree to be agreeable, and leave it there. I’m sure Jack doesn’t want to talk about my “boyfriend” today.
But now I’m chewing on what he said because it doesn’t sit right. That's not how I feel about Rawley.
Jack drives the rest of the conversation, giving me updates on our mutual UConn friends. They only graduated a few weeks ago, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime since the draft.
When we part ways forty-five minutes later, it’s like saying goodbye to a long-time friend. Comfortable.
Still, I can’t help but think of how different this weekend would’ve ended up a few months ago. I would’ve planned to come to his apartment after all my obligations were done, and then fallen into his bed.
Yet, right now I don’t feel even the slightest pull to do that. At all.
I feel no attraction to Jack, a man who I’ve been with countless times.
There’s affection as a friend, sure. Nothing physical though.
Nothing like the chemistry I have with Rawley.
Crap.
“Please welcome to her first WNBA All-Star weekend, Orlando Surge rookie, Avery Parker!”
It’s the next day, and finally time for the real game. My family came down from Boston to watch, everyone ecstatic for me. Not for the first time, I’m thankful that the WNBA season is during the NBA and college offseason, so my siblings can all join.
Even the reserves get introduced, so I stand up when my name is called, smiling and waving to the screaming Barclay Center crowd, which numbers around sixteen thousand people.
“God, I love New York,” the forward from Minnesota sitting next to me says.
I don’t get a lot of minutes, with so many superstars here.
However, Sarah and I have a special moment with a “give and go” play—where I pass it to her, cut to the basket, and she sends it back to me for a layup.
It’s not a hard play to execute, but the speed at which we move the ball, without any need for verbal cues, makes it exciting.
“Ooooh, we know they’ll be bringing that one back in the playoffs,” the announcer calls out.
The All-Star game is a more relaxed environment, intended for entertainment as much as anything, so we ham it up. Sarah comes over to me and does a little dance, and makes me join her for a second round, before we both burst out laughing.
So much for me not being “fun” or “cheerful,” right?
After the game, I head over to where my family is sitting—third-row seats for my parents, siblings, and Hazel.
“There’s our girl,” Mom says as I approach them.
“YAYYYYY,” Hazel screams while she jumps up and down.
My siblings give me a hug in succession, while I come to Dad last.
“So proud of you, Aves,” he says as he embraces me deeply.
“Thanks, Dad.”
I start to pull away, but he only loosens his hold slightly. Looking at me eye to eye for a beat, a mixture of pride and apology in his expression.
Then he leans down, so his mouth is near my right ear and no one else can hear.
“I’m sorry I missed so many of these moments before. I can’t tell you how much I regret that. I’m so blessed to have you as a daughter, and I can’t wait to watch you achieve whatever you want.”
I exhale as he stands to his full six-foot-seven inches, trying to move past my shock. Dad has never said anything like this. And his face shows a slight sign of…nerves?
My heart assimilates the emotion that’s weaving through my chest at his words, and, even more quickly, my head processes that he’s taken a big step to change things.
A step I don’t want us to backslide from.
“That means a lot, Dad.” I smile, and he switches to a relieved expression.
“I know I have a lot to make up for, but I would love to have the chance.”
I nod, and he finally breaks our hold, the corners of his own lips turning up slowly.
“PAUL AND AVERY! CAN WE GET A PICTURE?” shouts a photographer from somewhere close by.
Dad seems more confident than me where the voice is coming from.
“This is Avery’s time,” he says, shaking his head. “Why don’t you get a picture of her with the kids?” The kids being my siblings.
Seconds later, we shuffle under the nearby basket—Dylan, Remy, Jamie, and me. Lined up in order of age, arms linked behind our backs.
“Wait, don’t forget me, Daddy,” Hazel says, breaking free of Mom’s arms to stand on Dylan’s open side.
“Never,” he says, while the rest of us grin at our niece.
And a cluster of photographers join the original guy who shouted, taking a series of photos.
As Dad looks on, comfortable to be out of the spotlight.
It firms up my decision. After the season is over, I’ll give him that chance he asked for.