The phone rang twice and then clicked over to voicemail. Odd. He tried to counsel himself it was nothing—she was working, he called at a bad time, maybe she was on another call—but still, his thoughts circled like predators around his well-being. He took a deep breath, enjoying the tranquility of the backyard for a few moments before his mind started to wander back to the conversation in the car.

  Emma had been that upset about a fabricated story that he and Daisy had broken up. It scared him to think what might happen to his daughter if he and Daisy really did break up someday—not like he wanted to think about that outcome. But Emma was getting attached, that much was clear. Hell, so was he—in a big way. He was dying to see Daisy already, and two days hadn’t even passed since they’d last been together.

  But an important question remained: What had Emma even read to upset her that much? Now curiosity got the best of him and he went to the horse’s butt to find answers. It wasn’t hard to find them—the sports world was teeming with speculation about James’s interview the day before, he found.

  In fact, most of the headlines painted his words with the press in a damning light.

  “Sharks Quarterback Unhappy with Conditioning Coach”

  “Sullivan says: ‘It’s risky. I’d be more conservative’ about new coach”

  “Sharks Team Considering Their Strengths and Weaknesses—On Field and in Coach”

  James dropped his phone into his lap, groaning into his hands. Shit shit shit. It wasn’t hard to see why the media had run with the break-up angle. Hell, he hadn’t even been talking about the conditioning plan when he said it was risky. He’d been talking about switching coaches mid-season. Not like anyone would hear him out now. He sighed heavily, feeling suddenly tired.

  Had Daisy caught wind of this? Was that why she’d missed work today? Questions swirled, but he knew better than to keep searching for answers online. He’d need to have another firm talk with Emma down the road about staying away from gossip and the internet—it was more important now than ever before, especially since James and Daisy kept cropping up in the tabloids.

  Because if he couldn’t resist the urge to learn about himself online, how could Emma be expected to not peek from time to time?

  These were the unfortunate side effects of growing up in a lifestyle like theirs. Gossip and tabloids hadn’t played too much of a role in their lives in the earlier years—just the occasional coverage about charities, Super Bowl wins, and things like that.

  But now? It was clear that as long as Daisy was in the picture, people had plenty to say. And most of it wasn’t nice at all.

  14

  “Honey, what color are you getting?”

  Daisy’s mother leaned over the edge of her pedicure chair and adjusted her bifocals as she examined the plastic board of nail polish colors. They’d opted for an impromptu spa day, her mother’s idea after a somewhat glum and negative phone call the day before.

  Daisy had been in a funk ever since watching the recap of the Shark’s post-game interviews Sunday night, which was what she did every Sunday. No, funk wasn’t the right word. She’d fallen into a ravine and broken all her emotional bones. She’d been trying not to be as upset as she actually was when it came to the admirable ways in which James had undermined everything she’d worked toward—except that wasn’t how she was supposed to think about it. She needed to keep reminding herself of that.

  She’d been fighting this endless, cyclical battle for two days now and still hadn’t figured out where or how to end it. It seemed like a lot of people in the world felt like she did, though—the sheer amount of coverage that interview garnered served as proof that she wasn’t wrong. If James had something to say to her, she reasoned, he would have come out and said it by now. Surely, he wouldn’t choose the media interviews as the place to air his grievances.

  But there’d been no denying it—he’d been pissy and agitated during that interview and seemed less than pleased with everything brought up to him. Like he would have picked stronger words if he could have. Like his subtext really was “This conditioning regimen is bullshit.”

  “Ummm…” Daisy struggled to focus on the color swatches her mother had picked out. “This one,” she said, pointing to an emerald.

  And here she was, escaping confrontation via a spa day with her mother. James had reached out a few times, and she’d finally used her mother as an excuse last night when she’d let James’s calls go unanswered for a third time. Even though her mother hadn’t come into town until today, she figured it was a necessary white lie. Because she needed to get her head on straight before she talked to him.

  She knew something big was around the corner for them. She just couldn’t tell what it was.

  Somewhere along the way, things changed. It was the only thought that kept occurring to her. But how could she have been so blind to it? Maybe she’d just gotten so caught up in the fascination of actually feeling attracted to someone, feeling equal, feeling supported and lusted after. Hell, the man ate her pussy so good, of course she’d forget about everything else. Maybe the signs had been there all along. Maybe she was an idiot and didn’t even realize it.

  Her mother sighed, turning to Daisy. “Are you even paying attention to me?”

  “What happened? Sorry.”

  “I said, we should get one of the darker greens for our feet,” her mother repeated, showing her a different swatch. Because obviously they had to get the same colors.

  “Yes. That one looks great. Perfect.”

  Her mother didn’t look convinced. They’d been sitting with their feet soaking in advance of the pedicure for what felt like hours to Daisy’s spinning mind. She needed to clear the air with James. That much was certain. But things were complicated now. And deep inside, a voice whispered to her that she needed to take a more drastic measure.

  “Are you still upset about what James said?” she asked.

  Daisy sighed. “I am.”

  “You know, I don’t think he meant it the way everyone’s spinning it.” Her mother shrugged. “Men just say things.”

  “But Mom, he’s a seasoned football player. He knows what it’s like to interview. He chooses his words carefully. You could tell he was measuring what he was saying.”

  “Okay. So what?”

  Daisy’s eyes drifted shut. It was the so what that felt so bulky and exhausting right now. Because there was so much wrapped up in that so what. “The media is having a field day with his words. Half the internet is expecting me to be fired by Friday. The other half is calling for our break up.”

  “Are you about to be fired? Are you breaking up with him?”

  “I don’t know on either of those counts.”

  Her mother pulled back, looking at her over the top of her glasses. “What did you say? You don’t know if you’re breaking up with him?”

  “I don’t.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Daisy sighed. These were the sticky thoughts that she couldn’t figure out even though she absolutely needed to. “It means I don’t know what’s going on right now. I don’t know how I feel. Maybe it needs to be over between us, but I-I think I’ve…” She could barely say the words. “I’ve fallen for him, so now everything is complicated.”

  “Why on earth would you break up with that man? You’ve been in love with him since high school.”

  Daisy rubbed at her forehead. “I have not.”

  “My darling daughter, yes, you have.”

  A weak laugh escaped her. “Whatever. That’s not the point. I love football more than whatever is building between James and me. That’s my first love. Not James. My whole life is built around football. I knew there would be blowback if I started something with James…let alone during my first season with the Sharks…but I went for it. And it’s been…relentless.” Her throat was tight after she said that. She hadn’t realized how much of an emotional weight this had been on her.

  Because the truth was simple, unavoidable, and consuming. Ever since word had leaked about their relationship, things had shifted. She imagined they’d been living in a fantasy, just out of reach of the real world, in those weeks before the media had found out.

  But that’s when everything changed. When people started viewing her differently. Now her clout and competency were at stake.

  Her mother reached over to squeeze her hand. “But it’s what you wanted. This job. You’ve been working for it for so long.”

  “I know I have. But ever since our relationship went public, it seems like everything to do with the Sharks is actually just about our relationship. Everything comes back to that. Did the Sharks play poorly? Probably because the coach is screwing the quarterback. Someone made a mistake? Definitely the female coach’s fault.” She threw her hands up in the air. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “So you think breaking up with him is the best move?”

  She struggled to answer honestly, not finding any ready solution waiting in the wings.

  “Just don’t break up with him because you’re angry,” her mother counseled, wagging a finger at her. “Your father has said his fair share of stupid things under stress in the kitchen. If I’d let his mouth turn me away in the beginning, we would have missed out on an incredible life together.”

  Daisy softened. As she opened her mouth to reply, the nail techs joined them to begin the pedicure. After some smiles and hellos, the two ladies got to work with foot massages for them. Daisy turned to her mother and said in a softer voice, “It’s not that I’m angry. I just don’t think my career can handle it.”

  Her mom shook her head, doubt clouding her face. “I don’t know what to tell you, honey. You’re the only one who can figure that one out.” She reached out to brush Daisy’s cheek and in Greek, she added, “I trust you. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. But talk to him before you decide anything.”

  Daisy tried not to let her gloomy mood stain the rest of their spa day. At the very least, she got a great mani-pedi with her mom, so wasn’t that at least a few bonus points for her week? Still, though, she felt judgment and doubt lurking around every corner. She could read the disappointment and condescension in strangers’ faces as she and her mother left the outdoor mall where the nail salon was. Practically everything around her reverberated with her failure, her attempt to be an imposter coach, the fact that everyone doubted her abilities—including her own boyfriend.

  Once her mom was headed back to Atlanta and Daisy was driving home with a gorgeous new emerald manicure, a call from Coach Scooter came through her Bluetooth. She answered it hesitantly, feeling like this was the “big firing” certain online outlets had been predicting.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hey, Daisy, how are ya?” Scooter asked.

  “I’ve been better. Just a little tired from being wrung out in the media so much.”

  Scooter grunted. “Well, listen, I was reviewing some of the plans for practice tomorrow, and I think we need to dial back the weight room time in the morning.” He expanded on some of the tweaks to the regimen he’d envisioned, and Daisy nodded along, murmuring her agreement while her head spun. Was this because of the interview and the ensuing press circus? Was Scooter joining the rest of the world in recognizing her for the fraud she apparently was?

  “How does that sound, Coach?” he asked.

  “Good to me,” she forced out against the swell of relief that accompanied the doubt. She wasn’t being fired. But this might be her last chance to prove herself. “This isn’t because of, uh, you know…” Her mouth was dry, and she could barely force out the words. “Because of what happened on Sunday, is it?”

  “Hm?”

  “There’s been a lot of talk about my training regimen,” she said, “and—”

  “This is based on the tape reviews I did today,” Scooter said. “These guys have gotta rest a little before the playoff push.”

  “Of course,” she said, trying to sound cheery. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  They hung up, and she gripped the steering wheel until her hands hurt.

  Nothing made sense anymore. Least of all the confusion wracking her body. She and Scooter had had conversations like these in previous weeks—so why was it so life and death now?

  Her entire body was jittery, making her realize she had been expecting to get fired.

  The tabloids were getting to her. And a sad truth was making itself known, one that she’d been fighting against since the very beginning.

  She might not be cut out for this. They’d warned her that the NFL was a different world, but she hadn’t been prepared for the amount of coverage she’d garner simply for choosing to follow her heart. But maybe that had been a stupid move. Maybe this was her fault…and the continuing press circus was simply a sign.

  When everyone in the industry was hell-bent on cutting her down…maybe the smartest thing to do would be to just cut herself out of the picture.

  15

  Daisy took the afternoon after her spa session to compose herself. She needed to talk to James. The sooner the better. She just wasn’t sure it was going to come out right.

  Thanks for publicly undermining the work I’ve focused on for the past twelve years of my life.

  No, that was too spiteful. She had to phrase things correctly.

  Appreciate the way you sowed the seeds of doubt about my professional capabilities.

  Nope. That wouldn’t work either. She spent the afternoon pacing and draping herself across couches, struggling to find the right words. When pacing and draping no longer worked, she turned to running. She pushed out a five-mile run in the humid early evening, but even that didn’t offer the clarity she craved. When she returned to her place, she had another missed call from James, along with some text messages. They’d communicated, but only barely, since Sunday. Daisy had wanted to get her head on straight before diving into things, but it was becoming apparent that even that was too much to ask.

  Clearly, she just needed to dive headfirst and figure it out afterward.

  “I miss my girlfriend,” James wrote in his text. “When do I get more Daisy?”

  Anguish wracked her body. She’d told her mom she thought she needed to end things, but did she really want to do that? This felt like an impossible decision. But if both things—her job and James—weren’t fitting in her world right now, how could they possibly be included in her future?

  The past two days had been awful. And they reminded her of the previous week, which had also been awful due to tabloids and speculation. Even though James’s attempt at distracting her via the insanely pleasurable orgasm on his leather recliner—and thank god it had been leather, with the damp mess she left behind her—it didn’t actually solve anything. Sure, they could have sex after every negative press release, but that didn’t actually help her deal with things. It didn’t make people take her seriously. It didn’t change the fact that she’d chosen to start sleeping with a famous NFL player right out the gate her freshman year in the NFL.

  Stupid, stupid Daisy.

  Prior to their relationship coming out, things had progressed at a dull roar. Now, the romantic attachment had completely upset whatever precarious balance she’d struck with the sports gods.

  Daisy heaved a sigh and typed out a response. “I just got back from my run. Can you come over tonight? I feel like we need to talk.”

  James didn’t respond right away. She wondered if he could sense the confusion behind her text. The anguish and anxiety and longing.

  She wanted him so badly. But she wanted her career more. If these two weeks were any indicator of what to expect moving forward, she had to take action. Now.

  “Of course,” James wrote back. “I’ll be over there as soon as you want me there.”

  Daisy told him to come over after dinner, which would give her some more time to process and take a shower. Still, the next few hours were stressful as she worried about all the different things that might come out of her mouth, and how James might react to them.

  The thought of ending things seemed wrong. But continuing seemed equally wrong, and she couldn’t see a middle ground.

  By the time James knocked on her front door, she was a mess of nerves. She ran a hand through her still-damp hair on her way to the door, trying to muster some courage from somewhere in her body. When she pulled the door open and saw him standing there, filling her doorway with his wide shoulders, his perfectly muscled frame, that dark chocolate gaze that always lit her up no matter what, her voice evaporated before she could even greet him.

  “Hey, Daisy,” he said, a heartbreaker grin crossing his face.

  “Hey.” Shit, this was going to be hard. Maybe her mom was right—she’d been in love with him since high school, and it was no different now. But she couldn’t think about that. Love had no place in her world right now. It couldn’t even be considered. “Come in.”

  She stepped aside, her entire body buzzing with anticipation or dread or some unsavory combination of the two, and led the way into her place. James grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

  “Hey. What’s this?” He spun her around to face him, his brows drawn together. “No kiss?”

  Inside her chest, her heart began breaking. The avalanche of unknowns was beginning. But as she searched his face, as if she might find the answer to how to proceed there, she found herself drifting closer to him. She pressed her lips to his, a quick, hot kiss erupting.

  “Sorry,” she said, unnerved by the electricity that had passed between them, even in that brief kiss. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  His grip on her wrist didn’t loosen. “About what?”

  “Can we go sit out back?” She needed fresh air for this, and the walls of her condo had started to close in around her.

  “Okay,” James said, the trepidation evident in his tone. She hurried down the hall and through the kitchen, out into her postage stamp backyard and the accompanying brick patio. She took a deep breath of fresh air, noting the orange and pink streaks in the sky from the setting sun. At least they’d have a pretty backdrop for this difficult conversation.