Page 40 of Playing for Love

“What about tomorrow? You want a ride to the stadium?”

He nodded, but didn’t look enthusiastic about it.

“Good. You shouldn’t stay around the house moping,” Mia said, a playful smile lighting her face. I knew that playful smile, loved it. Craved it.

Tate returned her smile and the exchange seemed intimate, like maybe they were more than just friends, contrary to what Mia claimed. Or maybe I was being paranoid about something that really shouldn’t be any of my business. I’d planned to try to be friends.

“I know you’ll be spending some of your time in PT and trying to keep up your conditioning, Fontanna, so I won’t see you much at practice. Won’t be able to keep you company much, but how about if we all get together on Friday? I’ll cook dinner, invite Hunter and Cat. Mia, you too.” My tone was casual, but the anticipation in my gut betrayed my intentions about friendship with Mia.

“Sounds cool,” Tate said, flicking a glance at Mia. She nodded, avoiding my eyes.

“How about the game Sunday?” I said. “You planning to travel with the team?”

“I don’t think so.” In another very couple-like move, he looked to Mia as if she had the answer.

She shook her head and said, “I doubt it. Too long in an airline seat. But don’t worry. I’ll be here to watch the game with you.” That smile bubbled again and it made me long for her laugh, even if it wasn’t for me, just to hear it.

“Then I hope we win or you two will be one miserable pair.”

She laughed. Cue the rainbow and the unicorn curling through me at the sound, the strong memory trigger of a heady time, that first night we’d met in college.

“That’s what the meds are for,” Tate said. That made her laugh some more and I took in their exchanged glances yet again and decided it was time for me to leave.

They looked too much like a couple for me to watch, though I had to admit it was safer all around that way.

“I’m going to take off. Need to get to practice for ten.”

“You have some time. Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” she said, perfectly reasonably as if it was her home and she was with Tate. It almost felt like she was goading me, maybe testing me. But my head was too messed up with nerves, guilt and paranoia by now for any reliable read on the situation.

I shook my head.

Tate said, “You kidding? He’s compulsive about arriving early. I’m surprised we kept him this long.”

“That’s right.” She laughed again, eyes twinkling.

That was the last straw. I had to get out of there.

“No way could you keep me another second. I’m out of here.” I didn’t give a shit if my tone was less than happy, possibly bordering on rude, and I headed for the door.

Tate’s laugh followed me as I pulled the door closed behind me.

Fuck. Mia had lied to me—or she’d changed her mind. They weren’t just friends. They were definitely a couple. And there wasn’t a goddam thing I could do about it. A spike of discomfort, like a thorn, pinched me. Life was a lot less under control today than it had been for a long while. I rode the elevator down to the lobby and pushed outside to the street, taking a breath of semi fresh city air.

Football. Films. I could make it fifteen minutes early if I moved.

* * *

Mia

Takinga deep breath once the door closed behind him, I turned away, resisting looking down to the street to where he’d parked his car. I didn’t want to let go of Tate as a shield against Gabe and it was selfish. Well, maybe not really. Tate knew where he stood now, didn’t he? He knew we were only friends and I didn’t think he minded all that much. He knew when there was a spark and when there wasn’t.

But I didn’t want to confirm to Gabe, my official status with Tate, that we were only friends. I asked Tate not to tell Gabe. He looked at me like I was nuts.

“This is about Denise, isn’t it? You don’t want to betray your friend.”

I nodded, but even though Denise had been the biggest reason to stay away from Gabe, she wasn’t the only reason. There was something scary about being in a relationship with Gabe. He was a big shot. Like my mother had been. I’d felt it at the hospital, the convergence of the mob of media bringing back a lot of scary, uncomfortable memories.

Tate shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll go along with the charade. Up to a point.”