Page 5 of Catching Our Moment

We sat sipping our drinks, catching up on gossip, and talking about changes in town when it suddenly dawned on me what was going on. I checked my phone, put it face down in front of me…and waited.

The drinks arrived, and we thanked the server.

“Have you spoken with Shaw?” Aliya asked.

Grace took a sip of her wine, staring at the table.

“No. I have not spoken to him. I did talk to Wyatt. Maybe he called him off.”

“He’s very worried about you,” Grace said. “We all are.”

“I appreciate that.” I sat forward in my chair, splaying my hands on the table. “But I don’t need him or any of you getting involved in this. It’ll only make things more complicated.” I turned my phone over, face up. “It’s under control. If you guys get involved?—”

A larger-than-life shadow fell over the table.

“If we get involved, that needle-dick asshole will know not to fuck with you.” The voice behind me was deeper than I remembered, and I didn’t hear the teasing tone I was used to.

Even without setting eyes on the man, I instinctively knew exactly who it was.

Dawson “Shaw” Shawfield was arguably the best professional tight end in the league, one of the most sigh-worthy players…and my former best friend.

I pushed out of my seat, stood on shaky legs, and gathered the courage to face him. Shaking my head, I said, “Wyatt really shouldn’t have called you.”

This was what happened when Wyatt Fortner was ignored: one hint of trouble, and he sends in the cavalry. My white knight. The man who captivated me long ago as a skinny, long-legged teenager whose only magic showed on the football field and in his ability to have women fall at his feet.

Now, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the country with his sea-glass green eyes; tousled, dirty-blond hair; square jawline… And don’t get me started on that biteable bottom lip.

I glared at Grace and Aliya. They were staring at their drinks as if they were crystal balls unveiling the future.

Grace threw a gesture over her shoulder, her voice a bit higher-pitched than usual, and she said to Aliya, “How about we go see what Nick is up to?”

Both stood and ran off, practically knocking over their chairs. Shaw caught Grace’s chair, straightening it and settling his large form into it before saying, “Sit down, Kelce.” And like a pouting teen being called to the carpet, I did.

“You’re right. Wyatt shouldn’t have called me.” He leaned both forearms on the table and shifted even closer before tilting his head up, his dangerous green eyes flashing just enough emotion to communicate his displeasure. “You should have.”

And just like that, I forgot what we were even talking about.

I leaned away from him so I could breathe. Then I crossed my arms over my chest and let out an annoyed breath. “Why? So you could drop whatever multi-million-dollar photo shoot you were doing just to run back here and hold my hand?”

“If that was what you needed, yes.”

I glared at him. “Do you think so little of me that you believe I can’t handle my own crappy life?”

He sat back, tilted his head, and crossed thick arms over his equally massive chest. The effect was much more noticeable than it was when I did it. “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it, Kelcie. But you don’t have to handle it alone.”

We narrowed our eyes at each other—as was our way—in a silent test of wills.

I hadn’t seen him in person in years, and my gaze wandered…down his chest, shoulders, and forearms back to his chin and the tilt of his cocky smile.

“You looked away first,” he whispered.

Ugh.

He ran his hands down his chest. “It was always the chest. Got you every time.”

“Shut up.” I smacked him in the arm.

It was like hitting a thick tree trunk.

He caught my arm and held it gently, “What’s going on, Kelce?”

Kelce.

Other people sometimes shortened my name to Kelce, but it didn’t sound the same as when Shaw said it. There was just something about the warmth he injected into it. As we grew older, it began to send shivers down my spine. That was how I knew things had changed between us, at least for me.

“I’m fine,” I said between gritted teeth, tired of repeating myself.

“Kelce. What happened?”

“No one has died. This isn’t a funeral or wake.” I threw my hands out. “My husband is divorcing me. Big deal. You hated him. You all hated him.” My impatience had my volume drawing attention. “You said this would happen from the day I told you I was?—”

He punched a finger at the table before me to make his point.

“I said he wasn’t good enough for you.” His voice quieted, and he gained control.

But it was the tightness in his jaw and his voice that hinted we were walking into territory neither of us was prepared to discuss.

Not here. Maybe not ever. “And yes, I stand by that statement. The only good thing that came from that man was Aaron.”

Whether it was our body language or the volume of my voice, Aliya and Grace returned to the table. “Everything okay over here?” Ever the mediator, Grace slid in next to me.

Shaw’s head was down, staring at the table, probably rethinking his return flight time.

I was staring at the top of his beautiful hair, wanting to touch it, even yank on it like I used to when I was teasing him or wanted his attention.

“This hair is too beautiful to belong to an ox like you…it makes you too pretty…”

I used to tease him, but only because I was envious. Not just of the hair but of the girls who got to run their hands through it.

“Kelcie, Shaw is here to support you like we are, honey. There isn’t any reason to be upset,” Aliya said.

Flashes of those unrequited feelings mingled with the humiliation of my failed marriage and became doused in guilt over the way I left things with him when I decided to marry James.

It was a lot for my already weakened heart to manage.

I was envious of his life's success, and my pride stung at how low I’d sunk.

I stared at my three friends. “I know I have Wyatt to thank for getting Shaw to fly out here and—” I couldn’t finish my statement without being harsh, so I shut my mouth, trying to find words for the emotions coursing through me.

I stood, pushing back my chair and finishing my wine in an attempt to gather my composure.

I pointed at Shaw, but my attention was on Grace and Aliya.

“He’s here.” Out of my peripheral vision, I caught him folding his hands, settling in for my oncoming tirade.

“He’s here because you think I’m going to fall apart.

Or is it because Wyatt has a plan to castrate my ex and needs your help to carry it out, figuratively or literally?

Either way, it probably doesn’t fair well for the father of my child. ”

He lifted his hand and opened his mouth to reply, but I stopped him.

At that moment, my phone dinged with the anticipated notification.

I tapped a couple of buttons and, without looking up, said, “I’m not going to fall apart.

For God’s sake, I’ve been through worse than this.

” I stood as I slipped the phone into my back pocket.

“Having a child before I was ready, juggling raising a child on the spectrum and trying to finish my degree. And this joke of a marriage…” I shook my head and gestured with my hands.

“This was just the cherry on top of my last decade.” It was a good idea to take a step away from my friends before they could delve deeper into any part of that statement. “I’m getting another drink.”

If they pushed, I’d say something I would regret.

I’d contemplated walking right out of the bar but stopped myself. That was too dramatic, even for me.

Besides, Grace was my ride.

As I approached the bar, Nick quickly placed another glass of wine in front of me. I couldn’t look at him—or anyone. “Thanks, Nick.”

I never yelled at my friends. I was always the level-headed, laidback, boring one of the bunch. The voice of reason. The logical thinker.

I checked to make sure my ringer was on before taking a healthy sip of my wine. I took a few more “healthy sips,” which brought on a coughing fit. Yeah, there were reasons I shouldn’t chug wine.

Great job, Kelcie—really badass.

A giant, warm paw began to softly pound on my back while another one, large enough to palm a football, grabbed the dainty wine glass out of my hand and set it on the bar.

My friends thought they’d called in the big guns when they told Shaw. But with everything left unsaid between us, we were more like unstable, emotional explosives.