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And the idea didn’t terrify me.

The following Monday we both went back to our jobs, despite Evan’s protests that I should take off more time. “I’ve already missed a whole week. I can’t miss any more work.”

“You can, actually. You have this thing called a doctor’s note, and it means you get to stay in bed and heal.”

“Would you take two weeks off if you’d been the one who had a tonsillectomy?”

He paused. “That’s different.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” he countered. “I get paid to be at my job.” Then he laughed when I chucked a pillow at his head.

When I got into the office, I expected Brenda to yell for me, but she ignored me and instead sat in her office ranting about bumping up the ratings. Since she still wouldn’t give me any work to do, I spent my time sending out résumés to other companies, hoping someone would call me in for an interview.

It didn’t happen. I’d confided in Evan about my job worries, that my boss had asked me to do something unethical and was angry I wouldn’t. And that I suspected I’d be out of work soon and would have to move back home. Or to a different location entirely.

He’d asked if I wanted him to make some phone calls for me, but I told him not to. I didn’t want to be another person in his life trying to take advantage of him.

That I had once very much tried to take advantage of him was something I wanted to forget.

Today I was tempted to take him up on his offer to help as I could feel the sand running out of my hourglass.

Evan called me on my lunch break, sounding completely exhausted. I guiltily wondered if that was partially my fault since he’d spent so many nights taking care of me. “So what are your plans this week?” he asked.

“Fetching and carrying for Aubrey, and then the reunion is this Saturday.” Everybody had returned from the cruise late last night, and I swear the first thing Aubrey did when her plane landed was text me with updates about the reunion. I had to help with decorating and the food. Evan was planning on going as well. But he hadn’t asked me to go with him. Maybe it was just supposed to be understood, given that I was his sort-of fiancée?

I was, yet again, pathetically waiting for Evan Dawson to ask me to a dance.

“Keep tomorrow evening open. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? Of the clothing-free variety?”

He laughed at my teasing. “No. And I’m not telling you anything because it’s a surprise, and that’s how surprises work.”

I was glad he didn’t tell me anything beforehand.

Because it turned out to be the best gift anyone had ever given me.

He took me to the Forest on Tuesday evening. “What are we doing here?” I asked.

“Just wait.”

There were a surprising number of cars in the regular parking lot and some people sitting in the stands. “There’s a game,” he told me. “Some kids who play football and got on their school’s honor roll were given the chance to come tonight and play against the Jacks. Including me.”

“Oh. You brought me here to watch?” It was sweet but not really my idea of a surprise. I’d seen him play plenty of times.

“Not exactly. There’s someone I want you to meet. Come on.”

Evan took me into a part of the stadium I’d never been in before, and I didn’t understand what was going on until he opened a door into the broadcast booth, and there sat Scooter Buxton.

I couldn’t speak. Which probably meant I wasn’t making a very good impression.

“Hey there, Ashton, right? Evan told me that you hope to be an NFL commentator someday.” He offered me his hand.

My head began to nod of its own volition, and somehow my right hand shook his.

“Have a seat,” Scooter said.