1
Noah
“Noah Spencer, you gutless coward. I am so pissed off at you. Why did you do this—or more accurately, why did younotdo this? And I bet you’re sitting there listening to this message with a smirk on your stupid face. UGH!!”
Leaning against a wall in the locker room, I snickered as I listened to Emma’s voicemail. She wasn’t wrong—I did have a smirk on my stupid face.
“Victoria is an amazing woman. She’d be perfect for you—she loves football, she’s super smart, she works in the research department of a pharmaceutical company, and her passion is developing holistic medications for kids with cancer, for crying out loud. She’s all about family, she wants to have a houseful of children, and last but not least, she’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. She’s a perfect match for your stupid sexy body and your annoyingly attractive face.”
Now I was full-out laughing. Only Emma could make a compliment into an insult.
“So what I want to know is why you didn’t call her. Or at least text her. Ask her out for coffee. No commitment, just coffee. You have plenty of time, so don’t try to play thefootball seasoncard on me, mister.”
Emma imitated my deep voice in that last line—or at least, I assumed that was what she was trying to do. In my opinion, she didn’t sound a damn thing like me. My voice was like a fine clarinet, not a bull moose in heat.
“I know the season is underway, but I also know that you can’t train and practice twenty-four/seven. And even if you don’t think so, you need someone in your life. You need a woman. You need to be happy, and—”
There was a muffled voice on Emma’s side of the call, and I had a hunch I knew who it was.
“Deacon, you hush. This is a private message. No, I’m not messing with his life. I’m right, you know I’m right about this—dammit, you both know I’m right. Don’t you want our friend to be as in love and happy as we are, Deacon? Don’t you want that for ourgood friendNoah, who we both love?”
Emma sounded clearer again as she continued. When she’d been talking to both her fiancé and me at the same time, she’d probably turned her face a little away from the receiver.
“Deacon says yes, of course, we want you to know the same happiness we do. Go away now, Deacon, I don’t need your help here. Listen, Noah.” Her tone softened a little. “I hate thinking that you’re lonely. I hate that you’re roaming around that big old house by yourself all night. I talked to your mother the other day—”
I groaned. During the brief period of time when Emma and I had been a couple, she and my mother hadn’t exactly gotten along like a house on fire. My mother had believed—correctly, as it turned out—that Emma wasn’t the right woman for me. But now that Emma was safely engaged to someone else, she and Mom chatted frequently. I had a sinking feeling that more often than not, I was the topic of their conversation.
“—and she agrees with me. She says she doesn’t care what that priest said—I’m glad you talked to the priest, don’t get me wrong, we both think it was a wonderful idea—but your mom and I think that this, uh, ‘being open to whatever the future brings’ is something you’re just saying to keep us off your back.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d visited a local Anglican priest at my mother’s insistence, hoping to get her to stop nagging me about dating again. Reporting on our conversation had eased that situation for a little while, but apparently, the effect was wearing off now.
“But seriously, Noah. You haven’t sent back your response to our wedding invitation. I know you’re going to be there—I know with full and utter certainty that you would not blow off your best friend on one of the most important days of her life, but I need to know who you’re going to bring. You must have noticed that your invitation was addressed toNoah Spencer and date. We want you to bring a plus one. So decide who it’s going to be, and send me back the damn response card, dude. It’s addressed and stamped and everything.” She paused, probably to take a breath. “Victoria would look lovely in a fancy dress at my wedding. Just saying.”
I shook my head and checked my phone’s screen, wondering how much longer this message would go on.
“Okay, well . . . that’s it. That’s all I’m going to say.” Her voice grew further away for a moment, as though she’d cupped her hand over the phone. “Yes, Deacon, I’m coming. Just a second. Sheesh. Men.” And then she went on speaking to me. “I’m going to text you Victoria’s number again, just in case you lost it. No pressure, but do it. Love you, Noah. Good luck in the game this week, we’ll be watching from home! Talk soon.”
With a long exhale, I clicked off my phone and tossed it into my duffel bag, rubbing the back of my neck in an effort to ditch some of the tension building there. Emma’s constant insistence that I needed a woman in my life was trying, but at the same time, I had to laugh at her message. She was feisty and she never gave up, like a cute little bulldog with a bone.
“What’s so funny?” My teammate and buddy Zeke wandered over, a towel wrapped around his waist. We’d just finished the day’s practice about twenty minutes ago. I still needed to hit the showers, but I’d checked my phone before doing so. When I’d seen Emma’s missed call and voicemail, I’d figured listening would only take a minute . . . how foolish I’d been.
“A voicemail from my friend Emma.” I shook my head as I answered Zeke’s question. “She’s hellbent on getting me set up with one of her friends, and she read me the riot act for not calling the girl.”
“Is she hot?”
I frowned. “The girl she’s setting me up with? I mean, who she’stryingto set me up with? I have no fucking clue. I’ve never seen her, and Em didn’t send a picture. She says she is, but you never know—women see hotness totally differently than guys do.”
“No, not her—your friend Emma. Isshehot?” Zeke’s eyebrows rose suggestively. “Like, is she the kind of friend you’d introduce to one of your teammates who was looking for a good time?”
“No.” The single syllable was adamant, and Zeke cast me a speculative glance as he pulled on his shorts.
“Ah, I gotcha. You hung up on her?”
“No, I’m not.” I made sure I didn’t sound so territorial this time. “I’m just saying, Emma’s not that kind of woman. She wouldn’t be interested in your idea of a good time.” I untied my cleats and dropped them into my locker. “Plus, she’s getting married next month.”
“Getting married doesn’t always mean permanently off the market,” Zeke observed. “I’ve banged plenty of chicks with rocks on their third finger, left hand. Sometimes they’re the most fun because they’re looking to sow their wild oats before they settle down into wedded bliss.”
“You’re disgusting, you know that?” I shook my head. “And for what it’s worth, that would never be Emma. She’s head over ass in love with Deacon—trust me, there’s no getting between the two of them.” I had personal experience in that area.
