Page 139 of Tangled with the Tight End
“Ginger just wanted a piece of my spotlight to shine on her. It got pretty ugly. My mom had fixed us up. She met her through a mutual friend. It was the one time I actually capitulated and dated one of the women my parents attempted to fix me up with.” I shake my head. “An utter train wreck.”
“Declan,” Winona says, her voice is soft, filled with compassion. “You don’t have to go into this. You’ve had a long day. I get the picture.”
She’s right. I don’t have to go into it. But I want to. I want Winona to know everything. Even before we were dating, she’d become one of the few people I can tell everything. Maybe she’s the one person.
A lot of women would come into a relationship with me already knowing about Ginger and the headlines and the drama that followed. But not Winona. She didn’t follow football until we met. She’s not interested in the gossip that comes with the job.
Winona’s interested in me.
She pulls through the second gate in our neighborhood.
“I want you to know,” I say. “Ginger went to the press with a bunch of false statements about me. She thought she’d build her own fame by tearing me down. Our PR and legal teams were on the situation like white on rice, so I outlasted the defamation. But it soured me on dating so much that I haven’t been out with anyone since.”
Winona’s face is horrified. Of course it is. She’d never consider the possibility of taking advantage of someone.
“That’s awful!” she exclaims. “What is the matter with people?”
“The guys call her Barbie 2.0.”
“Nice,” she says, still seeming to hold on to her rare standards of decency, even though she’s obviously appalled by the way I was treated.
“Yeah. I never use the term,” I say. “But if I’m honest, I don’t hate it when they do.”
“They’ve got your back.”
“Yeah. They do.”
She’s quiet, pulling through the gate to my house.
“That’s all water under the bridge, though,” I assure her. “I moved on.”
“And you haven’t dated since then.”
“No interest.”
“Until now.” Her smile is coy—like she’s secretly delighted, but trying to hide the fact.
“Now? I have a lot of interest.”
She puts the car in park. I stare into her eyes. “All the interest.”
She giggles and shimmies her shoulders playfully. “Because I’m so awesome?”
She’s joking. But she has no idea.
“You are.”
“Did you ever hear the saying, Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”
“Of course.”
“You see me in a way …”
She doesn’t finish, but I hear what she’s not saying.
“Maybe you should try my glasses on for size.”
Winona doesn’t lack self-esteem. She’s a confident woman. Her comfort in her own skin is one of her most attractive qualities.
