“Which is exactly the problem.” I run my thumb up and down the paper coffee cup. “Haven’t you seen the headlines? They’re blaming me for his performance.”
“And you believe them?” Emma asks, raising an eyebrow.
“I can see it for myself! He’s playing terribly, and it’s because he’s distracted by—”
“By what?” Sarah interrupts. “By being happy?”
I open my mouth to argue, but she continues.
“Leah, you write romance novels. You know better than anyone that love doesn’t make people weaker. It makes them stronger.”
“That’s in books,” I protest. “This is real life. We’re from completely different worlds. He’s a professional athlete who travels constantly. I’ve never even been on an airplane!”
“So?” Cora shrugs. “Bryce and Sarah are complete opposites. He’s got his MBA, works in finance, and travels for business.”
“Yeah, and I teach third grade and make crafts on weekends,” Sarah continues. “Somehow, we make it work.”
I was a bridesmaid in their wedding two years ago and can attest they’re blissfully happy, but still… “That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because…” I struggle for words. “Because strangers don’t meet on boats and fall in love in three hours and spend three years apart and then get married and live happily ever after. They just don’t.”
The three of them exchange glances. Again.
“What?”
“Why not?”
I ignore them, instead moving on to other concerns that will prove my point. “And there’s the media attention,” I continue, setting down my cup. “My life is already upended, and with him? It would turn upside down.”
“The tournament ends tomorrow,” Cora points out. “The media are here for that, and because you’re a new face on Hays’s arm, you two are something to talk about. Marrying Hays doesn’t mean you’ll be followed by paparazzi every day for the rest of your life.”
“But—”
“Leah.” Sarah’s voice is gentle but firm. “What are you really afraid of?”
The question stops me cold. I stare at my friends, these women who’ve known me for years, who’ve watched me play it safe, time and time again, despite my personal adventures.
“I think you’re afraid of getting hurt again,” Emma says gently.
Cora reaches for my hand. “Or maybe, of not being enough for a charismatic guy like him.”
“Maybe, that if you believe in the fairytale, it’ll all fall apart and you’ll be left with nothing?” Sarah adds.
How is it they can articulate in three sentences what I couldn’t untangle in three years of overthinking?
“I’m not afraid,” I insist, but even as I say the words, Hays’s voice from that night on the boat replays in my mind.“Life’s too fucking short.”
I fiddle with the chips on my plate. While I’ve been overthinking every angle, analyzing every risk, he’s been living by the philosophy that when something matters, you don’t wait.
The room is quiet.
“Has he given you any reason to think you’re not enough?” Emma asks softly.
I think about Monday night, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. How he’d said “You’re not a distraction” with such conviction, as if the very suggestion was absurd.
Then Wednesday at the cocktail party, how he’d been so happy to introduce me to his friends, his protective hand planted at the small of my back.
