Page 116 of Brooklynaire

We eat reheatedempanadas in my bed at twoa.m.

“So. Have you seen her?” Becca asks, licking a bit of grease off her fingertip. She’s wearing my Star Trek T-shirt and looking so cute that I want to fuck her all overagain.

“Who?” I ask, distracted by the site of her tits straining the StarshipEnterprise.

“You’re joking, right?Juliet.”

But I wasn’t kidding at all. Having Becca back in my arms made me forget the night’s troubles. “No. I haven’t. But why would I, right? The teams don’t reallymingle.”

“ThankGod.”

I shrug. “Still have to look at Bart’s ugly ass during every game. With three goals he’s the high-scorer so far for this series. I want to run him down with theZamboni.”

“Do you think he’s still a vegan?” She gives me a cheekysmile.

“How do you even remember that?” I’d blocked out everything from that time in my life. Except for myrage.

“We were snarking about the fact that he was a shitty dinner date. I remember everything about that night, including rolling you into a taxi after we got drunk. I had the spins on the subway on the wayhome.”

“Seems like a hundred years ago.” Because now I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t Becca that I wanted in my bed. “Would it be too optimistic of me to ask if you’d consider joining me for game five inDallas?”

Her expression softens. She sets her plate aside. “I would be delighted to be your date for game five. Except I won’t be there. Earlier tonight I told Heidi Jo that she was going to Dallas in my place, because I finally went back to therapy and Dr. Armitage wants to see me on Mondaymorning.”

I resist the urge to comment on her return to therapy, though I’m pleased. “It doesn’t matter if you’re not on the team jet,” I argue. “I’m flying out on the Gulfstream Monday afternoon. You’d come with me. And not to work. This would be a date. If you’re ready for that. But nopressure.”

Rebecca’s eyes widen. She lets out a breath. “Well, okay. It’son.”

“You can think about it,” I say quietly. “If you’re not ready, I’llunderstand.”

“I want to go,” she says firmly. “I’m all in if youare.”

I lean in, bridging the distance between us, and kiss her neck. It’s another hour before we get tosleep.

28

Rebecca

June 13, New York

Nateand I carry on like horny teenagers all weekend in private. But then Monday arrives, as it always does. After my doctor’s appointment I have a few hours to myself before I have to meet Nate at LaGuardia for the flight toDallas.

Cue the fashioncrisis.

I find myself in Bloomingdale’s, wondering what Nate’s game-day arm candy is supposed to wear. Every time the TV camera cuts to Nate for a reaction, I’ll be visible. Or half visible. One boob or the other is going to be on primetime.

I ask to try on every silk scarf that has any Brooklyn Bruisers purple in it. Staring in the mirror, I reject each one in turn. I never wear scarves, because they make my chest look more voluminous than it alreadyis.

I shouldn’t be having this fashion crisis. I shouldn’t care that TV cameras will zoom in on Nate and his companions whenever Brooklyn scores. I shouldn’t wonder what Nate’s girlfriend ought to look like. But it’s hard not to compare myself to toned, blond Juliet, fitness trainer to thestars.

And dating Nate can’t turn me into someone who looks good inscarves.

Leaving the frustrated sales girl behind, I take the escalator up to the designer floor I rarely visit. I do a lap, but everything is too summery for the rink. Until I spy a corner where off-season things are discounted. And I find—no lie—cashmere cardigans. There aren’t as many as in the dream I was having when Nate woke me up on that fateful night in Florida. But I don’t need hundreds; I only needone.

And I find one in just the right eggplant shade ofpurple.

It’s fate, so I have to buy it. Besides, my credit card bill is nearly zero, since Nate wiped away my medicaldebt.

Also, because I’m me, I can’t leave the store without visiting the lingerie department. I wander the aisles wondering which scraps of satin or lace will give Nate that expression he gets when I undress—like a dog with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I find some lace panties in a creamy pink that concealnothing, and a matchingbra.