Chapter 30
Antonio
“Need a hug?”
“I’m fine.” I wave Shins off.
“You sure about that?” He raises his hands at my glare. “Just asking.”
Someone needs to ask himself why he wears Carl Winslow sweaters in public.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“You’ve been staring at the wall in the kitchen for twenty minutes.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Thinking about changing the backsplash.”
The lie does not take my mind off Miriam. In fact, it does the opposite. I bet she could renovate my entire apartment in half a day. I’ve seen her calculate figures in her head and criticize what she deemed to be overcomplicated instructions.
She probably has a toolbelt too. One of those good suede ones with compartments for protractors and compasses and shit.
I swat Shins’s hand away from my face. “Are you following concussion protocol?”
“I don’t have a concussion,” I mutter, shifting to look at the movie and not the unwanted houseguest in my personal space.
My sectional seats six, eight if they’re not ruggers. There’s more than enough space to stretch out without him breathing down my neck.
Shins hasn’t been home since practice ended. He comes to Steel House to kick it from time to time, but he’s been here for three hours. Spent all of them on my last nerve.
“You took a hard blow during the scrimmage.”
“I’ve been hit harder,” I point out.
Jones, the other starting flanker, tossed me on my ass. Hard. I wasn’t paying attention, and he capitalized. Simple as that.
How Miriam and I left things in Vegas messed with my head during practice.
Two knocks rattle the front door before Bread pops his head in. “Got any honey I can borrow?”
My face twists. “Why are you glistening?”
He grins. “Baby oil.”
I need to move.
“Bailey, so help me God, if you stain the floors again.” I groan, a hand over my face to block out flashbacks of the berries he stomped into the hardwood.
Every year, it’s the same thing: me reminding him not to act up, and him finding new ways to cross the line.
I don’t want to know who or what he’s doing in his room.
Bread steps into my apartment shirtless in silk boxers and rainboots. “I remember from last time. Why you sulking in your bathrobe? Need a hug?”
It’s a sad day when a man can’t sit in peace.
“I’m not sulking. I’m processing.”
I haven’t seen or heard from Miriam since she hugged me at the airport and hopped into Marcela’s car.
I kissed her.
Tasted her.
Came on her.
I gave in to the will to press my body against hers and drink from her mouth.
Miriam doesn’t see herself when she’s turned on.
How easily she brings me to my knees with a single look.
How could she think she’d be a notch on my belt after all of this time?
She should know me well enough to understand how important she is to me.
What happened between us—what’s happening between us—isn’t because of my friendly dick. She’s changing me.
Having her that way was a dream come true.
I saw stars and galaxies—shit, the meaning of life—after I released almost two decades’ worth of tension.
Imagine my surprise when I thought we’d spend the rest of the night together, only for her to split the brownie we ordered and send me on my way.
Her snores floated into the living room, where I was up half the night wondering why it was so easy for her to dismiss me. I gave her my best strokes.
She’s never judged me for the women I’ve entertained. I never brought them up. No one lasted long enough to be relevant in my life. I’m not interested in catching feelings, but here I am, tight-lipped and in my robe—pissed at life.
I miss her, but I’ll respect her space. She made it loud and clear that she regrets what happened in Vegas.
“He’s doing it again.”
I jump back when I find Shins and Bread inches from my face. One looks like he belongs on a ’90s sitcom. The other needs a shower and an exfoliating brush.
Bread’s big head leans closer. “He’s been like this all night?”
Shins nods. “He put on a rom-com too.”
“Bullshit!” I look between the thorn in my ass and the team’s next PR crisis. “Shins found it on TV.”
I forget his character’s name, but the doctor from Grey’s Anatomy is an idiot. Dude should’ve professed his love to his best friend before she left for Scotland and fell in love with the other doctor from the same show.
Couldn’t be me.
Sure about that?
“Would you give me space?” I kick my teammates away. “I don’t want grease on my couch.”
Bread steps back to study the log-throwing scene on my eighty-inch. He grins. “You miss Maid Miriam.”
I tighten my robe and look away. “She’s safe and breathing. What’s there to miss?”
“The friend he likes and won’t admit it?”
“The one and only,” Bread says to Shins, on his way to my kitchen for God knows what. He pulls open the refrigerator and dips his head inside. “I saw the way you were looking at her all weekend. Shit, we all did.”
“Don’t forget the kiss at the pool,” Shins adds with a proud smile. “You like her, more than any woman we’ve seen you with.”
“If I had to approximate, you don’t know how to deal with having her so close. No more late-night conversations on the phone or texting.” Bread sets a carton of eggs, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream on the counter.
“Since when do you say ‘approximate’?” I skip over him raiding my fridge.
He lifts a shoulder. It’s sparkling from all that damn baby oil. “Heard Miriam say it once. The shit stuck. She’s cool, Cap. Likely won’t stay single for long.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I’m out my seat, hands on my hips. Ain’t no way a man drenched in oil will school me in my house.
Shins chuckles. “It means don’t be an idiot and let a good thing pass you by.”
“Moping like Lance after his wife died,” Bread huffs. His fingers hover over a cereal box. “Too far?”
Shins and I nod.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the theater during the funeral scene in The Best Man Holiday. My mother and aunt were sniffling with big tears like Monica Calhoun died for real. I won’t lie and say it didn’t make me squirm. The shit was sad.
“Miriam wouldn’t want me anyway.” I kick at the rug with my slipper.
Knowing Lisa, she gave Miriam and Marcela a full outline of what we did together, including footnotes. Her beauty couldn’t mask the jealousy that broke through her smile when she heard I was out with someone else. Popping up at my crib unannounced already had me off of her.
I never fuck anyone in Miriam’s circle. No wonder she thinks I’m handing out dick like breath mints.
Shins and Bread get the redacted version of my history with Miriam and what happened during our trip. By the time I’m done, they’re both on the ground, hollering.
“Bro, you met your match,” Bread cackles, soaking his baby oil into my hardwood floor. “She pulled a you by kicking you out and leaving you on read.”
I scoff and step over their gyrating bodies to grab water. “You make it sound like I’m heartless.”
It’s true that I don’t like for women to spend the night.
I prefer to pay for their car service and text to make sure they get home safely.
Miriam handled my ass the same way. She doesn’t do small talk or lead with emotions.
I expected a long conversation about what we did and what it means for our relationship.
If we want it to mean something. She said she was fine, ate her brownie, and went to sleep.
It was back to normal the next morning, like we didn’t rub our body parts together. Three days later, and I’m in a robe and sweats, pissed off at rom-coms.
How does she not feel the way I feel?
“Welp.” Bread swings two reusable grocery bags over his shoulder. “Hopefully she’s still on the market after Friday, so you can figure it all out.”
My frown deepens. “What’s Friday?”
“Valentine’s Day, the holiday you always dodge by running off.
” He yawns. “Miriam’s sister hosts an annual district auction.
It’s a fundraiser to bid on items, including Buffalo’s most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes.
I did it last year and spent the weekend caked up with an attorney who helped me get out of parking tickets. I signed you up this year.”
“You did what?” I shout.
“Shit.” He chuckles and grabs an apple from the bowl. “I knew there was something I forgot to tell you. Show whoever the winner is a good time, dick out or not.”
If we didn’t need Bread in the season opener against Houston, I’d put him in a deep grave. Not only did I forget about Valentine’s Day, but I now have to take a stranger out for charity.
We fly out first thing tomorrow, which means I won’t be around to intercept whoever goes for Miriam.
“Stop stressing Antonio out,” Shins chides. “Who says she’ll participate?”
“Shiit. I’d make her participate if I were her sister,” Bread says.
“She’s fine, smart as hell, and thick. Maybe Maid Miriam will find someone to scoop her up like homie in the kilt.
” He points to the television. “Women like her don’t stay single forever.
Going to get my dick sucked. See you bright and early. ”
Bread bops out like he didn’t just fuck up my mental while stealing from my refrigerator. Miriam has been off-limits for so long, I wouldn’t know how to approach her.
Would she say yes to giving us a try?
Am I ready for an us?
Shins pats my shoulder. “Need a hug now?”