Still no Emma.
He was trying not to get upset over it. Or let the words he’d overheard when she was talking to Lily get to him either. It was hard to make room for someone in her life.
“No,” she said. “But this is crazy. I like attention at times, but not this. I mean, I can even handle when people don’t like my books or call them trash. That’s my job.”
“It’s not your job,” he argued. “It’s your life. You live and breathe it like I do football. You know that.”
Her bottom lip came out and her eyes got a little glossy. He’d never seen her upset before.
She was always upbeat and happy and now he started to get concerned.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “So few people understand it. Even my family. My mother doesn’t write like me. If her books are in series it’s just a few. But mine, I’m creating families. Their friends. Their livelihoods. I bring my readers through fights, breakups, near-death experiences, then as the series moves on?—”
“You give glimpses into their progression. They get married, they have kids. I know,” he said. “I read it and feel it alongside of you. That’s how I know what you feel.”
“I do,” she said.
“And now you’re worried that being with me, it’s pulling you away from that, aren’t you?”
“No!” she shouted. “Why would you even think that? And it’s not like you and I haven’t posted things on our social media. I’m watching you on TV. I’m making comments before or after the game. You see that.”
“I do,” he said. “I even reply or show a reaction.”
Things he never did before.
He understood that a lot of her life was interacting with her readers. Plenty of players did the same with fans.
It’s not something he’d ever felt that comfortable doing.
With Emma, it felt as if it was some of their relationship along with being flirty banter.
The fact he rarely saw her only added to the fact that he didn’t like showing these parts to the world.
“I know,” she said. “So I don’t understand why people are making comments because I haven’t gone to two home games.”
“Can I ask why you haven’t?”
He needed to know what was going on.
Was his world too much for her? She never gave that impression. But that was before the season started.
Eight weeks in now was a different world. She was probably tired of it.
And with their record of 7-1, a few more wins and there were talks of them going all the way and being the team to beat. The season would be longer.
“First,” she said. “I told you I wasn’t going to every game. I don’t want to sit in the stands and I’m not having you pay for the private suite each week. You wouldn’t let me pay for the last one. I’m going to pay for the next one and you’re not going to argue with me, got it?”
He grinned. “Got it,” he said.
“Second of all. You live and breathe football. I know it. I don’t need you to tell me or show me. I’ve always known. From your exercise regimen, to your food, to the amount of time you are studying plays. You’ve got two years left to win another Super Bowl and I don’t want to be a distraction for you.”
He paused when she said that. “You’re not.”
“I am,” she said. “Warren. The last game I was there you came over to see me on the sidelines twice. There was no reason for it. Your coach even called your name to get back out there.”
He laughed. “Not for that reason.”
“I don’t care the reason, it happened. Even if it was innocent, other people saw it. If there is one thing I’ve learned in the past two months, it’s that every single thing you do is under themicroscope. When it was your playing ability, it was different. This is personal. You can’t say you don’t feel it too.”
