Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I peel off another mile as I wait for any response. It’s late in San Francisco, and surely, he’s celebrating.
Thirty minutes later, he replies.
Gunnar: Thanks, man! Not going to lie, I am seriously stoked.
I laugh. His excitement is endearing. But I’m a little sad that he slipped so quickly into buddy mode, calling me man.
What did I expect, though? I designed my own situation. If we were together, he would have written back saying, I am quite a catch, and I’d have laughed and said, you are and you’re my catch.
Instead, I reply with something friendly. I hate being just friends with Gunnar Ford. I want more, but I’m clutching at the crumbs I have.
Rafe: I am certain you’ll have an amazing postseason.
God, I sound so businesslike when I miss him fiercely.
Gunnar: Wait . . . Did you watch it at five AM? Theresa mentioned you were in London.
I smile at his deduction and how he sounds like he’s busting me for being a fan. Or perhaps he’s simply delighted to know that I’d still tune in.
Rafe: It’s six AM now, but yes, I watched it while I was running. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Gunnar: And you didn’t trip and fall from epic excitement? Damn, you got game on your sneakered feet.
Now I laugh for real. Gunnar is so very Gunnar. Fun, outgoing, bold. Always teasing me. My God, he loved to knock me down a peg or two. And I loved when he did it.
I’m glad I reached out, even though I know I can’t survive on crumbs.
Rafe: This is the extent of my athletic prowess—running solo while watching my new favorite sport.
That feels a little like a big confession, but I think it’s one he’ll enjoy.
Gunnar: Yes! I knew you’d become a baseball fan. Greatest sport ever.
As I pass Big Ben, I stare at the note, a little hollow. That’s all I am now. Just a fan. He’s friendly to me, like he is to all the fans.
So when I ask myself where I am going, I now know the answer. I am going into this stage of connection with Gunnar—being a fan. That is all. That empty feeling grows like a cavern inside me.
I put on a brave face as I type out a reply.
Rafe: I’m definitely a fan.
And yet I’m still a horribly jealous man. A hungry man. A man consumed. My banked jealousy ignites, and I can’t stop myself.
Rafe: Who was the kiss for?
He’s quiet. There are no dots to tell me he’s typing. I’ve gone too far.
I probably don’t deserve an answer. My phone is quiet as I turn away from the river, slow to a walk, and head to my penthouse suite at the luxury hotel where I’m staying.
But at last, he replies.
Gunnar: A friend, like I said to the reporter. That friend’s name is Theresa. At the photo shoot today, we talked baseball and playoff hopes. She didn’t know it, but that conversation lifted my spirits. I’d been pretty fucking bummed because some pathetic part of me hoped that you’d be there. But talking to her cheered me up.
I didn’t think I could miss him more, but I do. I didn’t think I could feel worse about my decision, yet here I am, aching everywhere.
I’m such an arse.
I reach my hotel room, make it inside, and slump against the wall. I sink to the floor, my head falling against my knees. That fist squeezes my heart so hard it’s strangling it. But I choke out an answer.
Rafe: I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I had to leave town to tend to business in London.
I hit send but I hate myself for lying.
Gunnar: Enjoy the boats. Bye, Rafe.
It feels like goodbye forever.
42
PARTING WORDS
Rafe
Over the next week, I move through London like a robot. I go to meetings with bankers and connect with lawyers in boardrooms overlooking Kensington. We work out terms for the acquisition.
I take the CEO of Bespoke out for curry, and over naan, Priyam says he’s glad that Rafe Rodman will acquire his company.
“I built this from the ground up into a multinational business and I’m ready to move on,” he says.
“What do you hope to do once the deal is final?” I ask, sipping my beer.
He smiles so wide it meets his dark eyes. “Spend time with my grandchildren.” It’s the simplest of answers and a lovely one. Then his expression turns serious. “But I want to leave Bespoke in good hands. You seem like you’ll take care of my people. Even my partners, like some of the athletes I’ve signed to sponsorship deals. Such as Zane Archer. I want to keep him on. I like positive representation for my brand.”
“As do I.”
“And I hope that you can continue to show me that you will take care of my employees.”