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Mandy: Drinks tonight?

I blow out a breath. It’s Thursday which means it’s sleepover night for Harper. Drinks with a friend sounds good, but I haven’t told her I filed for divorce. I’m not ready to talk about it, and Travis hasn’t signed the papers yet anyway.

None of the players will be at the Gridiron tonight since they’re working hard all day at camp and studying the playbook at night, often in small groups that appear to stay at the Complex well past the official camp hours.

It’s an intense few weeks for players, and they get a little time off just before the first game. But Travis’s time off will be a little longer than that of his teammates.

I don’t have any other plans, and maybe I’ll have enough to drink that I’ll spill to Mandy that it’s over between Travis and me.

Or maybe not. Maybe a public setting isn’t the best place for that conversation given the fact that his hearing is less than two weeks away.

Me: Sure.

Her reply is immediate.

Mandy: Gridiron at 7?

Me: Yep.

I show up right at seven, and Mandy is already working on her first margarita at the bar. The stool beside her is open, and I plop down onto it. I order a margarita of my own, and she takes an exaggerated sip of her drink, holding her hand at an odd angle.

And then I see why she’s doing it.

I gasp. “Oh my God! Amanda Lynette Miller, are you betrothed?”

“I am indeed,” she says, and then she squeals.

“Congratulations!” I squeal back and I toss my arms around her awkwardly since we’re both sitting. “Tell me everything!”

“It’s so crazy,” she begins, and her face is flushed as she talks with excitement and animation.

Looks like tonight’s not the night to bring up my impending divorce. I push down the pessimistic feelings festering in my chest as I put on a mask of excitement for my friend.

“So you know the whole deal with asking me the way he did the first time. Well this time, we were at his house, and he sent me on a little scavenger hunt that basically documented our entire relationship. I found different charms in each place to add to a charm bracelet, and he was waiting in the last spot with the ring.” She sighs all dreamily at the end and shows me her finger again then shakes her wrist with the bracelet on it.

“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I gush. I wish I felt more sincerity. I want to be happy for my friend, but it’s just hard when my heart is shattered.

How did Jaxon have time to devise an entire scavenger hunt with charms meaningful to the two of them when Travis can’t even be bothered to tell me he’s got a custody hearing coming up regarding the legal guardianship of his daughter?

Part of me really believed Travis and I had what it takes to make it the long haul. Those few days we had in the Bahamas were magical—barring the issues with my sister and Owen, but it felt like we were a real family for those days. We were happy, and I saw a future for us full of joy and love.

And then everything came crashing down on us the minute we got back home, and nothing’s been the same since.

We couldn’t make it past the first hurdle.

That tells me we never would have made it the long haul.

We both gave up.

That tells me it wasn’t that important to either of us.

Except…it was. It was everything for the short time I was able to hold onto it, and now I feel very much like I’m left with nothing.

“I know, right!?!” Mandy is still squealing, and the bartender places my margarita in front of me.

It’s gone in two long chugs.

I’m going to need a few more to get through this night of celebrating when all I really want to do is go home, crawl under his covers so I can smell him, and cry.

“Damn, girl!” Mandy sings.

“We’re celebrating!” I say, and I tap my glass to indicate I need another.

“So I know this is sort of fast, but we decided to do it before the season starts.”

My jaw drops. “Before the season starts? But…why so fast?”

“I, uh…the district called me in to talk about the sex club thing, and rather than deal with any potential consequences, I decided to put in my resignation. I’m staying until they find a replacement because as it turns out, I’m pregnant.”

My eyes move to her margarita glass in horror as a million thoughts plow into me at the same time. She’s pregnant? And drinking a margarita?

She quit her job?

She’s having a baby?

With a football player?

It was supposed to be me .

The thought enters my brain before I can stop it, and I immediately feel guilty.

“Oh my God! Congratulations!” I squeal, forcing myself to play up my excitement for my best friend. It feels like she’s getting everything I ever wanted while I’m losing it all after it was just within my grasp.

“By the way, there’s no tequila in here,” she says with a giggle as she holds up her glass. “And I wanted to ask if you would be my maid of honor. Or matron of honor, I guess.”

Matron of honor. Right. Because I’m married.

For now.

“I’d love to,” I say, tears filling my eyes.

I wish they were tears of happiness and joy for my friend. I wish I could push away the cloud of sadness that’s hovering right above me.

But I can’t seem to step out of it no matter how hard I try. I can’t pretend like I’m not jealous that yet another person in my life is getting everything I ever wanted. To her it’s an accident—a happy one, to be sure, but still not intentional, and meanwhile I’m over here wanting it all and not finding the right person to get it all with.

So close. So damn close…and, as always, just outside of my reach.

I order another margarita in celebration of my new designated driver’s happy news.

I chug it down.

I get wasted.

She takes me home, and I just barely make it to my toilet in time to expel the contents of my margaritas.

And then I lie down on the cool tile and pass out.

When I wake, I’m not in my bathroom anymore.

I’m not in my bedroom, either.

I am, however, still in the clothes I wore to the bar, and sleeping in jeans is less than comfortable.

Warm arms are linked around me, and I’m epically confused as a monumental pain pierces through my temples.

Well that was stupid.

I turn in his arms and find it’s Travis holding me.

I think I’m sober now—I threw it all up last night, so now I’m just left with the hangover, and I’m not sure how I got here in Travis’s bed.

I surmise that Mandy passed me off to him without knowing we’re not together anymore, and I assume he didn’t tell her. At least I hope he didn’t tell her, not after all the happy news she had to share. I don’t want to dampen her excitement in any way.

It feels natural and right and perfect here in his arms, and I live in it for a few extra beats because I don’t know if this will ever happen again.

And then I force myself out of his arms, out of his bed, and out of his room just like I’m forcing myself right out of his life.