CHAPTER 19 #2
“Simmons? I want this on every news site, social, and television program. I can see the headlines now: Owner held hostage by bleeding-heart team.”
“Er, that’s not a terribly compelling headline.”
“No, but it will rile people up, won’t it?” he said with a slight pep in his step as they left the locker room. “Jaffi’s going to hate this.”
Scarlett couldn’t quite understand the brothers’ relationship dynamic.
A lot of the time, Jaffi seemed to act like Chard’s handler.
Where Chard was easygoing and sometimes vapid, Jaffi was always annoyed and resolute.
But there was a sense that both brothers wanted what was best for not only themselves, but the other person, even though they seemed to be constantly on opposite sides.
She cleared her throat, unable to resist. “Will Jaffi be mad? I suspect he might be, considering you signed a contract in a room full of witnesses without any legal representation.”
“Legal representation? What do you think I went to school for, interior design?” He laughed as Scarlett tilted her head. “I graduated top of my class at Oxford.”
“You did?”
“I was a barrister. Well, I still am, I suppose, though I’m a bit out of practice. And I wouldn’t worry about Jaffi if I were you. He’ll be livid, probably, but that’s when he’s at his happiest.”
She frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Jaffi really should have been born first. He has the head of a leader. Strong, decisive, ruthless. He thrives in difficult situations, as he gets to flex his talents. But he lacks empathy.” Chard climbed the staircase.
“It’s not his fault. Our mother died when he was too young.
He doesn’t remember her much, if at all, and he put all his energy into being a replica of our father, who was also a ruthless businessman.
But I remember our mother,” he said with a smile.
“She was always talking about taking care of people, allowing them to show their full potential.”
“So, what? You planned this?”
“Oh no. Not even I’m that clever. Jaffi’s been honest with you.
I do spend too much money on things that don’t matter.
But I also spend a lot of money on the things that do matter.
And I’m glad they found a way to keep the women’s team for at least another year, because I think they could be the best in their league.
” He smiled widely. “And Jaffi is going to have a field day trying to figure out all of this, but then, he thinks I’m vapid.
” He used the same word she had thought of to describe him, and her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“But I’m only making sure he’s got his hands full. ”
Scarlett laughed. “Are you sure he wouldn’t like you to take it easy on him?”
Chard scoffed. “He’d be insulted, I’m sure of it.” They reached the owner’s box, but before she could enter, Chard stopped her. “Miss Simmons, since the women’s team seems to be in play for the following season, can I trust that you’ll stay on as well?”
“As long as there’s a women’s team here, I will be too.”
“Good. Now,” he said, winking, “get to work.”
Scarlett followed him back into the owner’s box with the game already underway.
Typing away on her phone, she created a post detailing everything the men’s team had stated, as well as tapping out several quotes that went viral almost as fast as she wrote them.
By halftime, she had over fifty-nine thousand likes and fourteen hundred shares across all the teams’ socials, with responses ranging from how stupid the team was to how fantastic the Bees were for doing the right thing.
Thankfully, the positive comments outweighed the negative ones, and Scarlett began arranging post-game meetings with all the players, as well as Marrero, Dawson, and the rest of the women’s team.
She called Marrero during the second half to clarify what had happened, but apparently Gary had already been in touch, as Marrero sounded as if she were beaming.
The Bees played as if their feet had been set on fire, and when they won 2–0, it was to deafening cheers.
The chants from the stands were both hilarious and wonderful.
The team was greeted by resounding applause and shouts of happiness as they exited the field, and as the owner’s box emptied out, Scarlett stayed behind to absorb everything.
With the women’s team in for another year, she had more than enough time to figure things out with Theo. But before she could continue with that, she needed to tell him the truth. That was going to take some finessing.
Pulling out her phone, she was surprised it still had battery. She punched in a text and sent it to Mr. Wrong Number, as that was still how Theo was saved in her phone.
Hey. I know you said that it might be best if we didn’t meet, but I think we should—
Delete, delete, delete.
This was going to be harder to write out than she’d thought. He had been pretty firm in his response about no longer wanting to meet up, and she knew it was because of her. Not her, Airport Hen, but her, Scarlett. But she had an idea, and she desperately wanted to do it.
So she tried again.
I’m going to be at Lyme Hall tomorrow, three o’clock. I’ll be wearing a dress and yellow rainboots. I hope you’ll consider coming.
Sent.
There. She’d set a time and place and even told him what she’d be wearing, and now all she had to do was wait and—
I don’t know… I sort of have this thing happening in my life right now, and I don’t want to mess it up.
Fair enough. But she couldn’t help but smile as she typed. She hoped this would work.
Please. Just this once?
Scarlett chewed on her bottom lip as those three little dots flashed on her screen. Either he was typing her a novel or he was typing and then deleting his response. Either way, it seemed to take forever. Until finally:
Okay. Tomorrow, then.
Exhaling a deep breath, she put her phone on her lap and stared out over the field. Tomorrow she was going to meet Mr. Wrong Number, and hopefully he’d be happy to see her. Now she just needed to figure out what dress to wear, and see if she could borrow Maxie’s rain boots.