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Well, I royally fucked tonight up, that’s for sure. I sigh and retreat back to the gala, where I find myself at the bar. I signal for another drink.
It’s going to be a long night, especially when I hear another familiar female voice beside me.
“Nathan, there you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
CHAPTER 5
Isabella
I should’ve known the moment I drove up to that gala that I was underprepared. It was clear from the women walking around in shoes that cost more than my car that I was playing in the big leagues now—or the National Football League, as it were.
The night predictably ended in disaster, as I’d had a feeling it would. All nights involving Nathan are doomed to repeat the same pattern.
I let myself get too close to him. Again. Ten minutes in his presence and I was dancing with him and letting him tell me how much he missed me. Basically, everything I promised myself I’d avoid.
For Rory’s sake, more than anything.
God, Rory. I have to do better for her. I owe it to her.
Disappointed in myself, I curl up on my couch, in my turtle pjs to edit the few photos I did manage to take before Nathan blindsided me. I got some good shots at least. That makes me feel a little better… until I stop scrolling on a picture I’d taken of Nathan when he was still across the room.
He’s kind of half-smiling, talking to another player. He’s wearing that perfectly tailored suit, and looks like freaking James Bond. Whatever possessed me to think he’d want me? I sip my wine and shake my head at the picture. I can’t fight a small grin remembering that there was one night, however brief where that man looked at me like I was holding up the stars.
In spite of everything that’s happened, that thought makes me feel powerful.
“Hey, that’s Nathan Sterling!” A little voice surprises me. Rory flops over the back of the couch to land beside me.
I nearly choke on my wine. “How do you know Nathan Sterling?”
She shoots me a look that might as well say, Really, Old Lady? “Mom, everyone knows Nathan Sterling. He’s in the soda commercials.”
Of course. Capitalism. I shut my laptop. Out of sight out of mind. “What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says.
I reach out to run my fingers through her dark hair. “What’s wrong, Bug?”
Murphy has also come to join us. He lays his head in Rory’s lap and she plays with his ears. “The thing with Kelsey wasn’t just because of practice. We’re doing a project in school where we write about our parent’s jobs. I was just writing about yours… but Kelsey told the whole class that I don’t have a dad to write about, because he didn’t want me.”
I set my laptop on the coffee table and reach for Rory. “Oh, honey. Kelsey is obviously unhappy with herself, so she’s taking it out on you. All you can do with people like that is be kind to them. Show her that you still care about her, no matter how hard she tries to make you stop… she may just realize that you’d make a better friend than an enemy.”
I’m proud of how mature that came out, even though inside I’m already planning a trip to visit Kelsey and Rory’s teacher to have some words… and if gum happens to get planted on Kelsey’s desk, so be it.
Rory frowns up at me, and for a moment, all I can see is her father, an image that makes my heart seize up in my chest. “I don’t want to be her friend.”
I laugh lightly, “Did I ever tell you how Auntie Jules and I became friends?”
Rory shakes her head, and I tell her the story of how Jules, who was my Kelsey Peters, became the best friend of my life, in hopes that my daughter might learn something.
All Rory has to say is that Kelsey kicks like a girl… so lesson learned, for sure.
When Lila calls me into her office on Monday, I spot Nathan already sitting at the desk, he’s wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and his head is bowed in shame, and I’m instantly transported straight to Sister Agatha’s office the other day, with Rory cowering in her chair.
The resemblance between father and daughter has never been more clear than it is in this one vivid moment. I’m so thrown, I don’t hear a thing Lila says.
She shoots me a concerned glance. “Ms. Rossi? Would you mind having a seat?”
“Of course, I’m sorry.” I scramble to a seat, avoiding looking at Nathan. “You can call me Izzy, Lila.”
