28. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Scarlett
Pushing my food around the plate, Steven’s comment, ‘details about my match,’ plays over and over.
Can I actually do this? My email is set up and ready to go, but am I ready to hand it over?
Dropping my head in my hand, I sigh.
“You okay over there?” Steven asks, yawning.
“Just thinking about a project I’m working on. What about you?” My head tips toward him. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He covers his mouth with his hand, yawning again. “We had a team scrimmage today.”
“Say no more.” Raising a hand, my lips tick up. “I know how crazy those can get. Were you jockeying for spots on the roster?”
Scooping up some of the penne, I take a bite and nearly moan. Moretti’s pasta is the best. A smile creeps along Steven’s face as he shoves a forkful of Chicken Parm in his mouth.
Shaking his head, he shrugs. “I don’t know.” He covers his full mouth with his forearm. “Maybe.” He swallows. “No one said anything specifically. Why, do you know something I don’t?”
“Only that sometimes Uncle Duncan has said the Wolverines will do scrimmages to see if they have the strongest roster starting.”
Steven pauses, resting his fork on his plate. “So that’s why everyone was out for blood.” He yawns again.
“Yup. Now you know what’s at stake for the next ‘scrimmage’.”
Picking up a forkful of sausage and peppers, I take a bite. Then place my fork down.
“Thanks for the insider information.”
“You’re welcome.” Pushing up from the chair, I glance down at Steven as he tries to stifle another yawn.
“Are you done?” His brows pull together. “You barely touched the food on your plate.”
“I’ll finish later.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Promise. But you're obviously exhausted, and I don’t want to keep you here late.”
Wiping my hands down my jeans, I swallow hard. My heart’s racing.
“You remember how this process works, right?” I kneel in front of the coffee table and wait for him to take a seat on the couch.
“You give your clients their match's email, leave the initial contact up to them?”
Nodding, I fiddle with a manila folder on the table in front of me. The one that has ‘my’ information. The one that will change the course of everything.
Slowly pushing it toward Steven, he reaches down, but I pull it back toward me.
“Do you usually keep the information from your clients too?” His mouth is curved in a lopsided smile, and his eyes are gleaming.
Wiping my palm against my pants again, I chuckle nervously before pushing the folder toward him, taking my hand away. “No. But normally I’m not setting up my best friend.”
His eyes meet mine, and my throat works.
Unable to look away, it’s on the tip of my tongue to be honest. My hands curl into fists. But when I watch him open the folder and read all the details about ‘his match,’ my throat tightens. Too late to go back now.
My gaze is glued to his face as I watch him read through the information. Looking for any sign of recognition that this person is me. When he doesn’t say anything, I’m disappointed and relieved all at once.
“Do you give names?” He asks, not looking up from the file.
“No. I usually let them introduce themselves.”
Steven’s brows shoot up. “Even if they know each other?”
“Especially if they know each other. Taking the time to get to know someone ‘anonymously’, so to speak, alleviates the pressure of feeling like you need to impress them. You can just be yourself and see if you like the person you’re getting to know.”
“Smart,” Steven murmurs, his gaze sliding back to the paper. “Is her email here?”
Heat fills my cheeks. I stand up and walk to the table while he flips the page over, looking.
Picking up my glass, I gulp the rest of my drink to buy a second.
“Not yet. I’ll have that for you tomorrow.
Also, don’t use your real name in the beginning.
You can get creative or just use your email handle.
”He nods. “So I need to create an email too?”
“Nope. Yours is on there.” I point to the spot on the sheet where his email and password are.
“PerfectAssist?” His gaze flies to mine.
“These emails are clues about who you are, but they're general enough that they don’t give anything away.”
“Interesting.” He hums. “Maybe I should’ve let you do this sooner.”
“See.” I force myself to smile. “I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.”
His brows pull together, and he eyes me suspiciously. “I’ll let you know if that’s true after.”
Closing the folder, Steven stands up from the couch and starts to head toward the door. Following behind, my thoughts are hurdling over doubts creeping up.
I’m not sure if this is the dumbest or bravest thing I’ve ever done.
“Scar?” Steven’s hand cups my face, the touch catching me by surprise. Electricity shoots down my body, and I slowly exhale. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Resting my hand on his wrist, I nod. “It’s just been a long day for me too.”
His head tilts, studying me. His gaze never once leaves mine, and it takes everything in me to hold his stare. My heart is slamming against my ribcage, and I wonder if he can hear it.
“Okay.” He nods, as if he’s seen what he’s needed. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against my cheek, turning the doorknob. “See you tomorrow morning?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He gives me a boyish grin that makes my knees wobble. “Sleep well.”
“You too, Scar.” I watch him as he skips down the steps. When he gets to the door, he turns back to me. “See you in twelve hours.”
Raising my hand, I watch as the door closes behind him. Standing there long after it’s shut.
Not only will it be twelve of the longest hours of my entire life, but it’s also the moment when I’m finally putting it all out on the table.
The buzzing of my phone has me turning back to the living room. Scooping it up, I smile when I see the name on the screen.
Somehow my godmother always knows when I need her, so it’s no surprise she’s calling now.
“Hey, Aunt Ava.” Plopping down on the couch, I let my head fall against the back pillows, a whoosh of air flying out. “What’s up?”
“I just got one of my hunches that you needed to talk.” The echoey sound of her voice tells me she’s driving. “That loud exhale that came out of your mouth just now makes me think I was right.”
Aunt Ava is my mom’s twin sister, my dad’s best friend, and Uncle Dunky’s wife. When my mom passed away, she made it very clear that she’d never be too busy for me and that anytime I wanted to talk, all I had to do was call.
I was three at the time, and my dad needed to teach me that she didn’t mean that so literally, but if I was struggling or missing my mom, she was the one I called. With her living in Maple Ridge now, and acting less, I can’t stop by instead.
I blow out a frustrated breath, nibbling on my lower lip.
“Yup.” I hear the smile in her voice. “Spill the beans.”
“I think…” My heart stutters. I take a deep breath, trying to steady it. Admitting these words out loud makes it real. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force the words out. “I think I’m in love with Steven.”
My shoulders drop, and the tightness around my chest loosens. But then I realize my aunt hasn’t said anything about my confession.
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I look at the screen, the call time ticking. “Aunt Ava?”
“I’m here.” Her lack of emotion makes me feel like I just told her I tried a new recipe at the bakery. She’s unfazed by my life-altering admission. “Honey, you’re not telling me anything I, or anyone who’s ever seen you and Steven together, doesn’t already know.”
“What if you misunderstood what my father was asking of you?”
Miles’ question resurfaces, and the ‘what ifs’ plague me.
“It’s no surprise you’re starting to see what we see now that the two of you are together—”
“About that.” Scrubbing my hand over my eyes, I take a deep breath. “We’re faking it.”
“You’re what?” She squeaks, making me groan.
“Pretending…” I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain how I put my best friend in this situation. “There’s this guy, and he was being pushy for weeks, and when Steven got home—”
“You asked him to fake date you.”
I can almost see her beaming at me through the phone. And it’s not really a surprise considering Aunt Ava and Uncle Duncan ended up together after fake dating. The same with my dad and stepmom, Cat, after a marriage of convenience.
“I’m a cliché,” I groan, shoving a throw pillow over my face.
Aunt Ava’s laugh carries through the phone, and I feel my cheeks burning. “Why didn’t you just tell us the truth at dinner. Given your experiences growing up, none of us would’ve been surprised you went that route. Well, except maybe Steven’s family.”
“I know. Every one of you seemed so happy.” My voice is muffled with my face still stuffed in the pillow. “And I felt bad telling you the truth.”
“That’s only because all of us clearly see what you two are fighting.”
“That’s because I made a promise to Steven’s dad. I promised that I would make sure Steven kept his heart open and found love.”
“Scarlett Ava James!”
My middle name’s out, which is never good. Shoving my face further into the pillow. “There’s more.”
She gasps, and I spill it all. My conversation with Miles. His thoughts about what his dad meant. The plan that we came up with. Emma. And then the fear that’s consuming me. “Steven seems so happy about me setting him up with someone else. What if I’ve lost my chance?”
“Whoa.” Aunt Ava huffs out. “That’s a mouthful, and there’s way too much that needs to be addressed. But I’m going to focus on what I think is important.”
Nodding, my face bumping the pillow, I mumble. “Okay.”
“First. I’m certain that Steven’s dad would be thrilled with you and Steven together. We all used to joke about it. Not to mention he adored you.”
The tightness in my throat loosens.
“Second. Don’t you think it would just be better to be honest with Steven about how you feel? You’re going to have to come clean anyway; what if you do it now?”
Tears prick the back of my eyes. She’s right, but I feel like I’m in too deep already.
Swallowing hard, I push out, “I…” but the rest of the words get stuck in my throat, and instead I beg, “Please don’t tell Daddy or Uncle Dunky. I’ll tell them when the time is right.”
“The one thing I’ve learned in life, sweetie, is that there is rarely a right time to tell anyone anything.”
The words hang in the air, and the prick at the back of my eyes becomes a more persistent pressure. I blink a few times rapidly.
She’s right, I know she’s right. It’s just all too much right now.
“But I’ll let you decide how to handle it.”
The lump in my throat sinks.
“And I’m still here if you need to talk.” She kills the engine of her car, and I know she’s home. I also can’t help but wonder how long she’s been sitting in her driveway.
“Thank you, Aunt Ava.”
“Of course!” Her smile is back, and the car door closes. “But you know I’m not covering for you if your dad or uncle are upset, right? And Steven is on his own.”
Snorting, I wipe at the wetness that’s on my face. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”