Page 22 of The Game Plan
I don’t know what but something flips in my chest. Maybe this is what it feels like to do something kind. Though my insides don’t typically spin when I’m working on my foundation or the Dragons’ charity events.
In the weirdness, I reach for my coffee – ah, that’ll be it, must be a strong shot. “Come on, I’ll walk you to Pilates. With a bit of luck someone will take a picture of us in the street and not notice that we’re vibing Elsa and Olaf.”
Long Island is waking up. There’s a buzz on the streets, increasingly so. I love this place; that I’m a short drive to the greatest city in the world, and that people are high energy here, or so it seems. I’m on the road for long stretches of an eight-month season but every time I’m back on the island, heading into the barn, it feels like home.
I got snapped up on an eight-year contract with the Dragons after my rookie deal and I couldn’t sign fast enough. My dad – not my agent but a top sports agent – told me unofficially to hold out for a better deal. I didn’t. I earn enough money as it is; I can do whatever I want. What I really wanted was to be a forever Dragon. The team I grew up dreaming of playing for. Therein lies another rub Dad and I have had over my career so far.
“Jax, about the moving in thing…”
“I know you don’t want to, Sienna, and trust me, I don’t need someone nagging me about crumbs and leaving the game station controllers out, but if we’re going to make this look legit, we have to. I get photographed out a lot on the island.”
I think she silently accepts the conundrum. It’s for her benefit.
“This is me,” she says, stopping outside a clinical-looking space. Through the windows I can see into a reception that’s painted white, the only splashes of color coming from plants.
“Looks more like a place for therapy,” I tell her.
“Babe, girl talk and Pilates is my therapy. An hour out of being a high-functioning burnout prospect.”
I snort. Maybe at her use of babe when I know she considers me anything but. Possibly because… “Can’t fault a person for calling out their own flaws.”
With a pout that looks as hostile as it does hot on her, she says, “You should try it some time.”
“No need. I have you to fix them for me.”
“Publicly.” She hands me her empty coffee cup. “Thanks for the coffee and the chaperone.”
I shamelessly watch my wife’s ass as she heads inside and I’d feel bad but I’m near certain she puts some extra swing in those hips for me.
“Hey, Sienna, when can I take you ring shopping? This afternoon?”
She turns back to me. “You’re serious about this, huh?” I nod and she shrugs in response. “Maybe next weekend.”
“What if I wait here until your class is finished?” I’ve definitely not thought through the question but I guess I can do that, if it gets rid of that dick’s emerald.
“I can’t, I have a lot of preparation to do ahead of my new job on Monday. The one we’re married to help me keep, remember?”
“Isn’t the point that you don’t start until Monday?”
“I have so many things on my to-do list, you wouldn’t believe it. Life admin. And work. I’m honestly looking forward to the satisfaction of scratching them off.”
“To-do lists. That’s your thing, huh?”
“OMG. Stop talking dirty to me in the middle of the sidewalk, Jax Harris.”
Is she flirting with me? I silently mock myself. Nah. Miss Perfect can’t stand me.
“Alright, list girl. Have a good class. I guess I’ll see you later or tomorrow to move your things?”
She bites her lip but nods. “Tomorrow.”
I nod. When she turns her back, this time, I cover my face with my hands. Am I really married and going to live with this woman who barely tolerates me?
Then I feel her fingers, warm and soft, peeling my hands from my face. “Someone is watching us with a phone,” she says, smiling.
“Fuckers.” Though this is my life.
“How should we end this?” she asks, though I’d normally ask her for guidance.
