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Tara frowned. “Where are you?”
I don’t know, Ali thought. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Work. A ton of recruiters are coming in this week.” She looked to her phone buzzing on top of her purse in the chair beside her and ignored Cornell’s call.
Her friend sighed. “You don’t get paid enough to be thinking about work on a Saturday.”
“Definitely not,” Ali agreed, nudging salad around with a fork.
Tara took a final bite of her sandwich and pushed the plate away. “Maybe you should change jobs,” she said, wiping her face with a napkin.
Ali nodded. Maybe I should. Maybe all the work, all the effort isn’t really worth it. The money, the time. My own well-being. She shrugged. “Maybe next year. I have to see what happens with Cornell first.” She thought about last night’s game and Evan’s trust in Cornell, how he led the team to a victory, and she got the feeling they might be staying in Hopperville.
“Look at you,” Tara smiled. “Waiting to follow your man.”
“He wouldn’t go anywhere I couldn’t work,” Ali told her. “It’s our deal.”
“I’m just happy Benton doesn’t have that kind of job.”
Ali found solace in the change of conversation and the soft smile that grew across her best friend’s face. “You like him a lot, don’t you?”
“What’s not to like? He’s smart. Sexy. He kind of reminds me of Clark Kent with those glasses.” Tara giggled. “And even Cornell likes him.”
Ali paused. “What do you mean?”
Tara knitted her eyebrows together. “He does, doesn’t he? I mean, they talk.”
They do?
“I don’t know what they talk about. Benton knows nothing about sports. The only varsity letter he got in high school was from the Chess team. I didn’t even know that was a thing.” Tara sipped her drink.
“There’s more to Cornell than football, you know.” Like his joking, playful side and his humor. The heart he wears on his tattooed sleeve that shows exactly who he is—brave, playful, and sentimental. Ali could see the inked mural, an ode to his mother and all the children’s stories she had read him.
Tara held up her palms. “I’m only kidding. I might give him a hard time, but that’s because I love you. It’s not because I don’t like him. Besides… ” Tara paused, shaking her head. “Never mind.”
“Never mind what?” Ali asked.
Tara’s eyes narrowed. “How much did you hate your other ring?”
“What?”
“Matt’s ring.” Tara motioned to Ali’s left hand on the table, which she quickly retreated into her lap.
My engagement ring?
“Are you telling me—”
“No, no—”
“Tara,” Ali warned. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her friend shook her head. “I just want to make sure he’s on the right track. Do you want me to give him hints about the ring if he does ask?”
The flutters in Ali’s chest shifted to pounding, and crippling anxiety shook her as her mind stumbled across last night’s events, at the week of tiptoeing around each other in a way that felt so completely opposite of who Ali and Cornell were as a couple.
Ali worried that the slip of “if” from her friend’s mouth wasn’t just an accident—it was a possibility.
“No,” Ali told Tara. “Don’t.” Because I think we’ve taken a step back from that.
Tara eyed her. “Are you sure there isn’t something bothering you? You just seem, I don’t know, not yourself.”
