It’s clear as crystal to me as I drag the words out of my mouth to make more small talk with prissy little Kinley. There’s only one woman that I want.
And I had to go and break her heart, ditch her and leave her behind after I graduated from Brooks.
For my family.
But as I look over my shoulder and see her looking inside, I know for certain it wasn’t worth the pain.
It never was.
And now I can’t help feeling like we’re both trapped in a game that will push us further and further apart.
CHAPTER TEN
There’s no good reason why I’m up here. None at all. I had my meeting with Kinley before Mack’s dinner. I checked in with our photographer, and with the sources at each one of the papers and media outlets where we’re carefully releasing pictures of a poised, sober Macklin Pride and his classy new musician girlfriend.
Kinley was pleasant enough, I suppose. wearing a dress made of light gray eyelet lace that made her look like she stepped out of an Anthropologie catalog. Her dark blue high heels even had matching eyelet cutouts. And she even recited our story perfectly--she’d met Macklin at one of her concerts. He was a fan, and he’d come backstage to talk to her, and of course, he was the perfect gentleman. We even had the tickets and a carefully orchestrated photo shoot set up the following day that would place Mack at her concert, showing the two of them meeting for the first time. With every word she recited to me, she spoke with charm and grace.
Her eyes were blue, her immaculately curled hair strawberry blond.
Even though it’s been years since I’ve been with Macklin, it seemed to me that Kinley was everything I wasn’t--innocent and sweet, her voice soft and melodious, her edges soft where mine have always been hard. No wonder he chose her--she’s nothing like me at all. Of course, she does have business savvy—pairing with a playboy like Mack will help her see a surge in album sales and ticket purchases. And an engagement--if the two of them can pull it off—will benefit her even more.
Everything seems to be set up perfectly, but I can't shake a little niggling feeling of unease. As I said, Kinley had been perfectly pleasant at our meeting. Almost too pleasant, in a way. Too polished, too perfect. And there had been a strange edge to her tone when we discussed the terms of the contract. She'd made what sounded like a throwaway comment about 'making it real' when I reminded her that it was a business arrangement only, not an emotional one of any kind. And when I questioned that statement, informing her that Macklin Pride wasn't the settling type, she'd taken a step towards me, looked me right in the eye and told me that she was used to getting what she wanted.
Now, I'm used to ambitious young people and in every other way, Kinley seemed perfect. Or, almost perfect. But her tone had been cold where mine was friendly and professional.
"I always get what I want." - That's what she'd told me. I wanted to ask her what she meant but the truth is, Macklin Pride's options - and therefore my own options - are running out. He's tiptoeing along a precipice of disaster, seemingly unaware of just how close he is to be fired from the only job he's ever known. There isn't enough time to vet more women or come up with another plan. It has to happen now. So all I can do is cross my fingers and hope that Kinley Edwards is as level-headed as I'm hoping she is. Calculating, I can handle. Ambitious, cold, self-interested - I can handle those things, too. As long as she's stable and I'm trusting that she is, because there isn't a plan B to fall back on.
And Mack. When the press sees this budding relationship, it will refresh the ideas of Mack that have been floating around for the past two years. If he’s with a successful, stable woman--instead of drinking with ten of the not-so-stable kind draped over his body at a time--he just might be able to win the owner of his team over. The harder part might be convincing him to stop throwing the frat-style parties. But that will come in time.
Why am I up here again?
I wait at the door, looking through the glass to see several of the more reputable Carolina players with their girlfriends, each one classier looking than the last. I chuckle to myself--we excluded any of the men who were single or had girlfriends who liked to drink or smoke pot a little too much. It took some time, but we now have a hand-selected group of friends for Mack. And if he tries a little, he might even grow to like this new little community.
I crane my neck and watch Wingate talking to one of the football players. Mack passes by, Kinley hanging off of one arm like she’s known him for years. Right on cue, she looks up at him affectionately and brushes one hand against the muscular bulk of his upper arm, leaning in to say something secret and hidden. I hope the photographer actually got a picture of that moment, even if the whole scene makes me feel slightly sick.