Page 42 of Catching Our Moment

Davy took it first. I knew of Davy already—both from Shaw’s stories and from following the team. I was surprised to find his hand was as large as Shaw’s, but his grip was firm but gentle. “I’m Davy Johnson. I live across the building from this guy.”

I nodded. “Yes, he told me yesterday. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My son is a big fan of yours.”

“Cool,” he said, rubbing his hands together and lowering his voice. “More mine than Shaw’s?”

I shook my head. “No one is cooler than Shaw.”

Davy’s grin widened. “Good answer.”

The black-haired beauty jumped in. “Since Davy and Shaw are caught up in their bromance, I figure I should introduce myself. I’m Shyla Stern.”

As if he’d been poked with a taser, Davy jumped in, “Oh, sorry. Yes, this is Shyla, my girlfriend.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. And somehow, you forgot about that? Hmm?” She shifted on her feet and pushed her hip out.

He put his arm around her waist, pulling her into his body. “Of course not. You’re unforgettable.” He kissed her cheek enthusiastically.

“Shaw said you’re here for the weekend also?” I asked.

“Yes, I actually live in Chicago. I’m a resident at a hospital there.”

“My girl is a miracle worker,” Davy added. “She works in the emergency room, saving lives.” His pride in her was almost as big as he was.

“I’m Mia St. James,” the one with the pretty smile said, shaking my hand with both of hers. A flush spread across her face as she shifted her gaze between me and Shaw.

“Soon to be Quinlan,” a man who could be on the cover of a magazine added over her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “Gus, Shaw already knows we’re engaged.”

“Yes, but I never miss an opportunity to tell people.” He beamed. “And we just met Kelcie.”

“Well, we aren't competing for the cutest couple contest. Besides, these two may win,” Mia said, waving her hand toward us.

“Let’s get them a drink as an award,” Shyla said.

“You know the drill,” Davy said as we all took seats around the table. “No alcohol for us—not this close to game day.”

“Shaw can indulge,” Gus said. “Can’t you? Are you suiting up this week?”

“Well, that’s still being tossed around the locker room,” he said. “So, to be safe, I’m going to stick with water. But Kelcie would probably like a drink.”

After the waiter left with our order, Shaw turned to Gus and Mia. “So, how is the rest of your gang doing? Congrats on having such a successful season.” Then he turned to me, explaining, “Gus and Mia work for rival stock car teams.”

“Right. Shaw was telling me about that. I think what you, CJ, and Harper have accomplished is amazing. I wasn’t a racing fan, but I love watching the three of you take the industry by storm.

I’m sure there is a lot more interest in the sport because of it.

” As an afterthought, I said to Gus, “Of course, I’m sure your team did well too. ”

He rolled his eyes. “No respect. I’m just another pretty face.”

Mia ran her hand over his stubbled cheek. “Yes, but you are nice to look at from the backside as well.”

I smiled at their banter.

“But enough about us. I’ve been waiting months to hear this story,” Gus said.

“As if you’re a romantic,” Shaw said.

Gus gestured toward me. “This is Rock Woman. If it wasn’t for her—if Shaw hadn’t still been hung up on her—he might never have taken pity on me, and we may have had a different outcome.”

“Rock Woman?”

Shaw’s hand went over his face.

Mia pivoted her body and glared at her fiancé. “You had to go there.”

“What?” Gus said, possibly as clueless as I felt.

“What does he mean, Rock Woman?” I asked.

Shaw sighed and glared at Gus. “I never should’ve told you about that.” Then he leaned to me and said, “Can I get a reprieve until later on explaining this?”

Shyla leaned forward and put a hand over mine. “Tell us about you, Kelcie. I love your name, by the way.”

Shaw picked his head up. “She’s an amazing physical therapist. I credit her for being able to suit up.”

Mia turned to Shaw and said, “That’s wonderful. But I’d like to hear more about Kelcie from Kelcie.” She gave me an encouraging nod. “I understand you have a son?”

“Yes, his name is Aaron. He’s in seventh grade, and no joke, he’s probably Shaw’s biggest fan,” I said and nudged Shaw, who stared at me with that side smile I loved so much.

“And you two knew each other in high school?” Shyla said.

I nodded. “We met when we were Aaron’s age, actually.” I enjoyed telling our story—where we started and what we’d become. Shaw joined in with his funny tidbits, and we entertained them through appetizers and ordering dinner.

“So, how long are you going to be in town for, Kelcie?” Davy asked.

“Just until Sunday. I need to get back for work and to Aaron.”

Gus shifted to Shaw. “What are you doing then?”

He studied the tablecloth. “We are still working out the logistics. I’m probably going to have to spend more time here until after the playoffs, but I’m hoping Aaron and Kelcie can come out. I know Aaron wants to get to some more games.” He winked at me.

“The team definitely needs you back. With Payton out with that knee injury and the hit Jones took last week, making him questionable, the post-season is not going well for the offense. They need to be able to pull you up.”

Shaw smoothed the imaginary creases from the cloth. “Yeah, that’s what I’m being told.” The table went quiet for a moment. “Like I said, we are still working out the logistics.”

“But you’re staying until after the game?” Shyla asked me.

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss watching him in action. I mean, after all that work I put in to get him there.” I swallowed hard, trying to put on a brave face.

“Good.” She tapped the table. “You can sit with me, then. Do you have a seat for her, Shaw?”

Shaw shifted in his seat. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “The same one.”

The same one Riley had with the other girlfriends and wives.

Shyla’s eyes narrowed at him. “Good. I’ll let the other women know.”

She smiled and told me, “Some of the players rent a suite for their wives and girlfriends to use for the season.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Give me your info, and we can coordinate.”

As I entered my information in her phone, panic gripped me. I would be taking Riley’s seat. I was going to be sitting in a seat formerly held by a model. A B-list actress, sure, but she was gorgeous and stylish and, even at games, perfectly put together. I was just…me.

I handed the phone back to Shyla, insecurities overwhelming me. Being married to James hadn’t exactly been a boost to my ego. He hadn’t been one to shower me with compliments, and over the years, I guess I’d had less reason to worry about how I appeared to others. But now…

Now, it wasn’t just about Shaw and me. I was going to be sitting in his seat, walking beside him, being seen with him—a place held before by supermodels and accomplished beautiful women. I wasn’t saying I was ugly, but I was the poster child for normal and forgettable.

And OMG, what would I wear? Did these women dress up for games? I was always decked out in Shaw’s jersey and jeans. Was that okay? Shaw was talking to the rest of the table about Aaron and his time on the podcast with TJ. Shyla leaned over and whispered, “Hey, are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”

I fidgeted with my napkin in my lap. “I feel like I’m out of my depth.” It popped out of my mouth before I could even stop it.

“How so?” Shyla said, a hand on the table close to me. “Why would you say that?”

I shook my head. “I’m not Riley, and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how to dress like that.

I mean, this…” I ran my hand up and down, indicating my plain blue sheath dress and low heels.

“This is the extent of me dressing up. I rarely take my hair out of a ponytail simply because I hate having it in my face.”

“My girl over here”—she motioned to Mia—“is a reformed tomboy. If I can get her in make-up, I’m sure we can find you some confidence with clothes.

Don’t worry, girl. We got you. It’s just a game.

I’ll be dressing for warmth anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can discuss it.

” She patted my hand. “Listen…I’ve only known Shaw for maybe two years, but we all know he’s been holding out for someone—or something.

Sweetheart, it was you. You could wear a burlap sack while all the other girls wear lingerie, and that man would still fall at your feet. ”

“You just met me. How could you know that?”

“Because I know men. Anyone can see how he feels about you every time he looks at you. It’s in his eyes. And he hasn’t stopped touching you since you walked into the room. Honey, sometimes he forgot Riley was even with him.”

I cocked my head at her and gave a weak laugh. I knew she was exaggerating, but I loved that she was trying to reassure me. Shaw’s friends were good people—I loved that for him.

His hand slid over my knee—not sexually, just proprietary—and I rested my hand over his.

It was the most natural movement. The gas firepit came to life outside on the patio, and I thought how different this life was from the one we had at home.

First-class flight, penthouses, a private dining room on top of one of the tallest buildings in Charlotte, eating an expensive dinner with two professional football players, two of the best-known names in stock car racing, a glamorous emergency room doctor… and me.

How small my life must have seemed to him.

I squeezed his hand to reassure myself that this part of our story was real as he continued talking about the draft class coming up.

He was practically a household name. I was a divorced physical therapist raising a son alone, driving a sensible car, and living in a duplex—one my friend had given me a discounted rate for.

I didn’t voice my concerns to Shaw when we rode back upstairs to his apartment. Instead, I attacked him in a frenzy, trying to drown out the negative voice in my head that listed why this relationship didn’t make sense.

We laughed and loved and licked and languished, and I fell asleep in his arms. But my fears and concerns only spread like a virus the rest of the weekend. No matter what I did, no matter how perfect everything was, the shadow of inevitable destruction was never far behind.