Page 14 of The Sweetest Return

I barely managed, “I got Tiffany,” before she had her arms around me.

Her happiness flashed first because she knew what that offer meant. Then she felt me shaking and understood the rest.

“He knows?”

I nodded against her shoulder.

Camille held me tighter.

She didn’t ask me to explain. She didn’t tell me love should make the answer easier or that I was supposed to choose one dream over another. She simply sat with me on the edge of the bed while I cried and the acceptance email glowed from my laptop across the room.

I had earned that yes.

And somewhere across campus was the man I loved enough to make saying yes hurt.

I just had no idea yet what they were going to cost us.

CHAPTER ONE

Tina had a fat ass and enough confidence to know exactly what that navy skirt was doing for her.

I noticed.

Would’ve had to be dead not to.

She introduced herself before we took off from Teterboro, smiled like she knew who I was before I gave her my name, then spent most of the flight finding reasons to come back through the cabin. Nothing obvious enough to complain about. A little extra eye contact. A few questions with room underneath them.

Under different circumstances, I might’ve appreciated the effort more.

Today, I wanted the cranberry tonic she was carrying and an hour where nobody needed Andre Jones to make a decision.

“Still good with lime?” she asked.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Her fingers brushed mine when she handed over the glass.

Definitely flirting.

I took a drink and looked toward the window.

Apex Sports had sent the Gulfstream to New York Monday afternoon, put me in a hotel I could’ve bought a floor in, then had a car waiting Wednesday morning to take me to their Manhattan offices. Three executives, two producers, lunch I barely touched, and almost four hours of people explaining why Sunday Prime needed me.

They wanted a permanent chair.

Pregame, halftime, postgame, playoffs, film breakdown, player interviews, special segments once they figured out how much Andre Jones they could fit into a football season.

One of the executives called it the obvious next chapter of my career.

I smiled instead of saying the last chapter had ended without asking whether I was done with it.

The contract Apex emailed before I left their building sat unopened on my phone. I should’ve been reading it, but opening another document that needed something from me made me tired in a way sleep wasn’t going to fix.

Jones Motor Group needed me tomorrow morning. Omar wanted me at North & Vine tonight for a tasting I had already missed once. Pops had called twice about the commercial contract Jones Outdoor was bidding on, and Crown Weekend started tomorrow.

AWU had found a dozen reasons for me to shake hands, sit on panels, take photographs, and smile beside people with enough money to have their names engraved on buildings. Friday night was the big one. Crown Legacy Award. Gala. Parents in attendance. Pops pretending he wasn’t more excited about the damn thing than I was.