Page 114 of Brooklynaire

I’m booking flights to Dallas, she says a moment later.We want to be there for you at gamefive.

My phone goes back into my pocket. I’m too tired to engage. The couch beckons, and I lie back, resting my Scotch on my belly, like Homer Simpson woulddo.

My publicist—Georgia—is miffed that I didn’t warn her, too. She called me while I was in the car on my way home. “I could have prevented that,” she said. “You need to let me protectyou.”

“Lesson learned,” I grunted before we hungup.

What a stupid night. I should just turn in early and hope tomorrow is lesshumiliating.

But first, Scotch. I sip it and try to look objectively at my life. I have the most fulfilling job a man could ask for, and a successful sports team. That ought to be enough,right?

“Sir,” Bingley says suddenly. “Rebecca would like to know if she can call onyou.”

I groan, because I don’t know if I can put on my game face right now, and I don’t want her to see me feeling so low. “Would you tell her that now is not a goodtime?”

“All right,” Bingley replies. “I’ll send herhome.”

“Wait.” I set down my glass. “She’shere?”

“On the front steps,sir.”

“Fine, send her up,” I say before I canreconsider.

A few seconds later I hear her footsteps on the stairs, and my heart rate accelerates. I can’t help it, and I’m not even sure I care. Rebecca will always have that pull onme.

She glides in a minute later, heading straight for the couch. She plunks down beside my feet and sets a bag and a lime down on the table. Then she fishes a bottle out of her handbag and sets that down with a thunk. “So. Cattacos?”

Iblink.

She bites herlip.

“Wait.” I sit up. “Did you bring me empanadas andtequila?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s nothing, really,but…”

I interrupt her. “Do you know I loveyou?”

Her mouth slams shut and her eyes get damp. “No. Ididn’t.”

“It’s true, Bec. I’ve got it bad. And that shitty little story about Juliet and me is a bummer, but it’s really no bigdeal.”

“I didn’t know,” she says, wiping her eyes. “About Juliet andDallas.”

Oh. “Really?” I assumed she was well versed in myhumiliations.

She shakes her head. “Didn’t have a clue. But I realized something important on the way over here. You asked me to sit with you in Dallas. And I said no because people would see us together and know we’re athing.”

“Right. I get it,Bec.”

She shakes her head. “But Ididn’tget it. You knew they’d see how it was. And you still wanted methere.”

“Of course.” I’m really not sure what she’ssaying.

“You didn’t care that people would say, ‘Oh, Nate is dating hissecretary.’”

“Office manager,” Icorrect.

She rolls her eyes. Then she grabs the tequila bottle and twists off the sealed top. Her trusty pocketknife comes out of her jacket pocket, and she cuts a lime on a coaster. “Glasses? Or are we going in straight from the bottle, just like oldtimes?”