Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Oh, I see what you’re doing. Don’t try to reverse psychology me into thinking a professional football player is interested.”
“Since when are you such a sad Sally? Where did the confident Posey go? Huh? The one who elbowed that sleaze Brian in the gut and told off Duke Colter in your kitchen?”
“She’s butt hurt that he left without saying goodbye.”
“Was that so hard?”
“What?”
“Admitting that out loud.”
“Yes.”
“Realistically, I don’t know, Posey.” Molly sighs. “I hate to say it, but Duke is young and just starting with a new team. I’d love for him to sweep you off your feet and for you to have a happily ever after, but the reality is—he lives in New York, and he’s moving back to Texas. And you’re in Illinois.”
“Yes, I’m well aware.”
One second, she’s scolding me for coming down on myself, and the next, she’s throwing a bucket of cold reality water in my face.
“I just got home from work,” I say at last. “I’m going to go change out of these clothes.”
“Okay,” she says. “If you need anything, I’m here.”
“I know.”
Back in my bedroom, I take off my work clothes and put on sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie—but instead of going back downstairs and making myself a snack as I usually do after a long day, I lie down on my bed and start scrolling through my phone to look at the news.
Sure enough, several articles are circulating about Duke. I had no idea he was such a story, which is no big surprise, considering I had no idea who the man was before last week. I’m so out of the loop—so out of touch with what’s popular and relevant these days, I’m stunned at the amount of press.
That and the photograph of me being shown on almost every sports network in the nation. The headlines?
Are so ridiculous.
DUKE COLTER WITH MYSTERY WOMAN IN THE HEART OF BADGER LAND
IS NEW YORK’S PLAYBOY RECEIVER CHEATING ON THE CONDORS WITH GREEN BAY…OR CHICAGO!
COLTER BEING TRADED?! STAR PLAYER SPOTTED IN ENEMY TERRITORY
Thank goodness I was wearing a ballcap yesterday, so my face was barely visible or recognizable as I stood there, hose still in hand, with Duke’s massive arm draped over my shoulders.
I look so tiny tucked beneath his armpit.
He’d dropped his arm from my shoulders as soon as that group of girls walked by for the third—
I gasp.
I knew those freaking neighbor girls were up to no good! No wonder they kept walking back and forth in front of the house—they were taking pictures!
“Those little snakes!” I hiss, furious for Duke on his behalf. Furious for myself that they invaded our privacy and now the entire world (well, fine, not the entire world, that’s being dramatic) is speculating about not only the relationship but also Duke’s career.
His career.
The fact that this could hurt him tears me up inside.
And the fact that I couldn’t even get ahold of him if I wanted to hurts even more. I don’t have his damn phone number, and I sure as hell am not going to reach out to Eli and beg for it—he’s got his hands full.
I tap my fingers against my bedside table, thinking.
Scrunch my brows together.
The dating app!
I tap it open and go to my messages, heart racing, then scroll through the few messages with men that I have, searching for his. What I find is a gray circle where his profile photo used to be, and when I click the message thread open?
The user you are trying to contact has deleted their profile.
Deleted his profile?
My heart sinks.
There’s nothing I can do to get ahold of him—then again, what do I actually need to get ahold of him for? It’s not as if I have anything to apologize for. I wasn’t the one taking photographs of us from the sidewalk. I wasn’t the one who posted the photo online.
I’m not the one living in a fish bowl.
Suddenly, I feel sorry for him.
What a shitty thing having your privacy invaded like that—everyone speculating over what? You standing in the front yard of your brothers’ house with your friend while she helps you move them in?
Something as simple as that, twisted and turned into something negative? Duke Colter and his mystery woman… Duke Colter cheating on New York… Duke this, Duke that. The man clearly cannot catch a break.
I busy myself the entire afternoon, straight up until seven o’clock when Molly texted me a reminder fifteen minutes prior.
Molly: 15 MINUTES! Sports channel 305!!!
As if I needed to be told. Ha!
I can’t sit to watch it because I’m a ball of nerves. I can’t stand still either, pacing in the kitchen after clicking on the television on my counter and flipping through the channels to find the right one.
There he is.
Larger than life and…in a suit.
Wearing a recognizably expensive and well-tailored navy-blue suit and rich burgundy tie, he’s seated between Elias Cohen—Molly’s boyfriend—and another man I don’t recognize. They’re at a table in front of a navy Dallas Steers backdrop.