“Secondly, I understand from Janice that Tessa contacted her mid-date to instruct her to set her up with someone else. Janice asked me to check with you before she setsTessa up with an Olympic swimmer who wants to get his five seconds of fame.”
“Do it. I hope they can find infamy together.”
“The issue is, he’s in Japan filming some commercials for another week or so. I’ll push back on Warner and Janice—suggesting it’s not a good look for you to be seen with someone else so soon after Tessa. I’ll convince them to hold off on your date with Kylee until Tessa’s been seen with the swimmer.”
“Kenzie, can I ask you something? Again, because you’re a woman.”
“Can I stop you?”
“If there is a woman, how do I get her to understand last night wasn’t a real date—it was more a business event?”
“Make her feel like she’s your one and only. Do something for her that she knows you would never or could never do for anyone else.” My relief is audible, and Kenzie chuckles. “Are you going to give me a hint?”
“No, but when I need your help, I’ll ask before the shit hits the fan and not after.”
“Dylan, if you do that, you’ll be my second favorite kind of client.”
“And your first fav?”
“The footballers who don’t have shit hitting any fan.”
It’s way past my bedtime by the time I’ve submitted my latest assignment, taken notes for our next game, and folded fifty swans. I want a stash on hand to respond to anything Emma says to me. Ten became twenty, twenty became … well, fifty … before I ran out of paper.
Before I call it a night, I write on five swans and carefully place them in an envelope. It might be overkill, but I put the envelope in between two sheets of strong cardboard so it won’t get folded or crushed in the side of my training bag. The last four swans are numbered, so Emma will hopefully read them in order.
Instead of dreaming about the new play Coach Bronx wants us to use this week—going over it in my mind until my subconscious has it embedded in my muscle memory—I dream of that one night with Emma, and all the things I wish I’d said and done.
And if five swans aren’t enough, I have another forty-five ready to go.
Chapter 10
Swan Date
Emma
Swan 1 - She moves like she’s weightless, but her eyes show the weight of the world. What keeps you grounded when you’re desperate to fly? #13271
One new swan in my locker I can explain away. But five swans? Luckily, I’m the first to arrive and collect thembefore any of thegossip girlsarrive and start asking questions. I’ve got enough questions of my own, starting with: how am I supposed to respond? Each question is well thought out and considered, but it’s the second swan—and yes, they are numbered—that is the hardest for me to answer. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I don’t know if I trust Dylan enough to understand.
Swan 2 - I want to know who you are when no one’s watching. Who do you become when the music fades? #13272
Who am I? The oldest person genetically related to my sister. The newest cheerleader on the team who is bound to get cut the minute I collapse on the field from exhaustion. The student who refuses to believe the mantrap’s get degreesbecause I can’t be the best occupational therapist my future patients deserve if I’m satisfied with getting passes.
Who am I? A week behind on rent but at least the speech therapist has been paid in advance. I’m a chef when Sage refuses to make toast, and her housekeeper when she runs out of clean school shirts. I’m busting my guts six ways to Sunday to keep my head physically, emotionally, and financially above water, and none of that is something a successful footballer like Dylan could hope to understand.
This flirting by note thing—I can’t do it any longer. We had one amazing night and I’m still pinching myself that I know what the sexiest man in the world feels like beside me—inside me.
These notes? They are just messing with my head. I need to remember he’s a man-whore who is all over the press with a woman who has more plastic than the only garden furniture I can afford. That’s the man I need to avoid. But each note andeach swan proves Dylan is willing to take this slowly, get to know each other one word at a time.
Swan 3 - A queen among the crowd, yet you stand alone. You don’t need anyone—except maybe, you do. Who catches you when you won’t let yourself fall? #13273
This beautifully folded swan might be my favorite of them all. Who catches me? No one. Would Dylan? If he knew my life, would Dylan catch me or throw me away because I don’t fit his instagrammable brand of sexy-as-fuck footballer and hot-as-fuck girlfriend?
I am so tired, I’d cry if it didn’t take effort. The Mavericks want to raise their profile and any cheerleader who wants extra cash, can attend all the promotional opportunities our schedule allows. So guess what I’m doing tonight? Attending some charity event because the six hours of overtime will be another bill paid. All I need is help to get ready.
Tentatively, I place the key in our front door and listen for signs of her mood. “Sage, I’m home.”
Before last night, Sage had gone three nights without nightmares. I’m not naïve enough to think I’ll get my sister back before the end of the rugby league season, but the new therapist seems to be helping. The apartment is quiet without the chatter I used to hate, but I open the door to find Sage in the kitchen, pulling a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Already cooling on the table is our mother’s banana bread with a layer of spiced fig on the bottom which shouldn’t work, but does.
