Page 22 of Playing for Love

“No—I’d feel ridiculous. I wouldn’t know what to say—My mother and father were admirers of yours?” She laughed. I let the sound run through me, relax me.

“Happens all the time,” I said.

“Part of doing business as a superstar athlete?”

“Small part.” I lied. It was getting to be more of a thing each year. If—when our team won the Super Bowl things would get bonkers. I’d been warned. But I’d put up with the notoriety and whatever other shit went along with a big win. It would be a f—cking small price to pay.

“That why you stay in or stick to dining out at Louie’s?”

“Maybe.” She was smart and it made me smile. “Speaking of which. Denise has us going out on a double date Friday with you and Tate.”

“I heard,” she said. “Someone going to tell Tate about the plan besides me?”

I chuckled. “You mean he hasn’t called you back, that bastard.”

“Oh, he called me. We haven’t made plans yet though, and my impression is he wanted me to himself.”

“That what he said? I’ll talk to him.” What the hell was I thinking? I had other plans for Friday night, didn’t I? In fact, I’d called to let her know Denise and I would not be going out.

“That would be great,” she said.

F—ck. What the hell was wrong with me? It was my chance to stay in all night and catch up on lost time in bed with Denise and I was messing it up.

“It won’t be for dinner,” I hedged. “Maybe dessert. Later. After nine.”

“Nine? I thought you’d be getting to bed early.” She sounded surprised. And she was right. I was screwing this all up.

“Sure. We’ll see what happens. Let’s play this loose.”

She laughed then. That laugh. I let it spiral through me, settle to a nesting spot near my soul as it eased me.

“Oh—I get it. No need to worry about it. You stay in all night with Denise. I’ll be fine with Tate. I’ll see Denise at the game Sunday.”

I let out a long breath but disappointment tainted my relief. She was right, though. She’d be fine with Tate. That was a good thing and I had damn well better get over myself because I had no business wanting to spend time with Mia. Not even as a friend. Not even to have dinner with her and Tate. And especially not to cook dinner for her and Tate.

“I’ll let you get back to unwinding,” I said.

“Okay. Thank you for the happy birthday wish. See you later, Gabe.” We disconnected. See you later, Gabe. The words sounded so natural, like she expected us to carry on as if we were friends. We should be friends.

But I wasn’t going to kid myself. I didn’t want to be her friend. No way would I torture myself with that shit, or let her distract me from this season. The team was poised for a repeat Super Bowl win this year and I wasn’t about to mess that up.

I’d purged Mia once from my life and I could damn well do it again. I was older and wiser and stronger now. It should be cake. Starting now.

Picking up the remote, I punched the television off then punched my pillow once before lying back down. Breathing deep, I concentrating on relaxing each muscle, starting at my toes. My ritual for a good night’s sleep. This night, I wasn’t convinced it would work, but I doubled down on my determination.