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We both agreed we should tell him, but we didn’t agree on when .

It’s still hanging in the air around us as we celebrate our first Valentine’s Day together—mostly naked and a little drunk on wine and each other.

Part of the problem is that we’ve all gotten busy. Gabby and I sneak in moments when we can, and it’s often when Troy is busy with player management, when he’s working with Mike, or when he’s at Joanie’s place or his club.

When we’re not sneaking in moments, I’m usually working, and often with Troy—but it’s also when Gabby is either working or at class. Over the last few weeks, it’s become pretty rare for the three of us to be in the room at the same time with nothing else going on where we could have this sort of huge conversation.

And so Gabby and I stay comfortably in the zone where we’ve resided for six months.

I want to tell him before we head to Phoenix. I want to get it off my chest before the real game play begins. I want to go into the season with a clear conscience, with nothing standing between my manager-slash-close friend and me, and I want to be able to call my girlfriend without worrying her father is going to catch us.

It’s been six months. We’ve managed to keep it from him this long, but once the season begins and she’s traveling with the team, I just don’t know how we’ll continue to keep it up. And even if we could, I’m not sure it would matter. I don’t want to keep it up anymore.

And now even my friends who know are starting to harp on me.

“When are you planning to tell Troy?” Danny asks when it’s just the two of us at the bar on a Wednesday night. We’re a few days out from leaving for Phoenix, and Gabby’s working late again while I’m working on… player relations —also known as drinking beer at a bar with some teammates before we wind up at someone’s place for a few hands of poker.

I sigh, and then I chug down half my beer.

“That soon?” he teases, and I shake my head.

“I don’t know, man. We talked and we agreed we should tell him soon, but things are just…out of control right now. I’m here with you, she’s working late. Tomorrow I’m at the stadium all day and then I’m interviewing on a couple different podcasts, and she’s got a paper due that she has to work on tomorrow night. Troy will be at a charity event the next night. We just can’t seem to find a good time to do it.”

“Or you’re not actively searching for one. Isn’t it easier not knowing his reaction versus getting a bad one?” he asks.

It’s sage advice from the idiot who was shotgunning beers the morning of the parade, but he’s got a point.

I don’t admit to that, though, and I really don’t have to since he opens his mouth again.

“Or, you know, cut it off and find a different pair of legs to slide between every night.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I roll my eyes.

He’s younger than me, and he doesn’t get it yet. He hasn’t had that pull to want a wife and kids and love. I’ve been where he is, and there’s nothing satisfying or fulfilling in sleeping with a different woman every night. It’s fun for a while, but it ends up leaving a giant void of loneliness. I’m sure it’s just down the road for him. It’ll hit him when he’s least expecting it.

Rush slides back into the booth and Nick follows a moment later, cutting our conversation short. The rest of the night, though, my brain focuses on what Danny said.

While I deal out the cards once we’re at Rush’s mansion, I can’t help but wonder what if we do get a bad reaction? What’s the worst thing Troy’s going to do?

I keep circling back to that as I push chips out onto the table and lose my ass since I’m totally unfocused.

I’m usually a fairly optimistic guy, but I force myself to go down the road of the worst possible scenario.

Let’s say he gets mad about it. Maybe I lose a friend. Am I prepared for that?

This is the guy who lured me to Vegas with a ninety-million-dollar payday, and I’ve been betraying him for six months. How the hell do I think he’s going to react to that?

How would I react to that?

Not well, but I’d like to think we’re all adults here. He’ll come around eventually…right?

It’s not like he’s going to make trouble for me on the field after convincing me to come play for him. He’s a professional first, and he wants the Heat to win. Whatever happens, it won’t affect our professional relationship.

It’s another lie I tell myself as I go all in against Nick when I’m holding shit in my hands.

I lose a hefty sum of money at the table since we’re gambling high stakes tonight all because my mind is wandering to these scenarios where I tell myself everything is going to be fine.

I even lie to myself when I text with Ben Olson the next day. His season is over, and he and Kaylee are in Montana with their girls for the next month.

Ben: You doing okay in Vegas without us there?

Me: Did your wife put you up to texting me?

Ben: Yes.

I laugh at his honesty.

Ben: I mean no. I’m genuinely checking up on you.

Me: Did she tell you to say that, too?

Ben: Yes.

Me: I’m fine. Trying to figure out the best time to tell her dad.

Ben: I don’t know if there’s ever a GOOD time for that convo. Rip off the bandage, man.

He makes a good point. There won’t ever be a good time for it, and the sooner we get it over with now that we’ve decided to tell him, the better.

Too bad I don’t realize I should have stuck with the lies until it’s far, far too late.