“Didn’t take you long to find someone else you’d rather be with.” I nod to the wide receiver I think she’s sleeping with, and she blushes, almost imperceptibly. “If you want to be with someone else, by all means, please go for it.”
“He’s not famous. He’s not the one I want to tame and show off to the world. You are. You’re the one who will get me the most concert tickets, the biggest video producers, and the most intrigued fans. You will not screw this up for me. We’ll be engaged through the goddamn season or so help me, I will end you—and her. Whoever she is.” She says the last words pointedly, turning to flash a smile and take my arm in hers just as a photographer passes by. After that, she leaves me and walks over to Gabe, the wide receiver. They walk off together, and I know she’s doing it to flaunt her power right in my face.
I walk past the open bar, again tempted. After that dark day when Renata saw me at my worst, though, I won’t touch it. “Club soda,” I say to the bartender. He pours it for me, and I take it, still scanning the room for Renata. The rage is pouring through me. Kinley is fucking with the wrong linebacker.
Just as I have that thought, I look up to see Renata standing by the door, in her white blouse and pencil skirt. Even though her outfit is plain, she looks a million times more beautiful than Kinley. There’s a lingering look of guilt on her face. She blames herself for this. I blame myself. And soon, I might have to let her go without her ever knowing how I truly feel about her.
Without even thinking, I walk over to her. Glancing around cautiously, I guide her back onto the front porch, where the stars are hanging over my estate with a delicate glow. “Let me take you down to the back porch. I have things I need to tell you. Things that need to be said by the light of the stars, not in a party where I’m pretending to be engaged to a woman I don’t love.”
“This isn’t wise, Macklin,” she says.
I think of how recklessly I want her, how deeply and awfully I need her. I brush my thumb over her bottom lip. If I have to tell her goodbye, I want one last night. “Kinley just went off with Gabe.” I shrug. “She’s occupied. I can guarantee it.”
Renata gulps and nods her head slowly, letting me lead her down the stairs and around to the back of the house. The bottom porch faces the guest house and the back of my estate, secluded and private. No one can hear us here. I’ve tested that fact a number of times. It might be stupid. It might be reckless. But let Kinley find us. The bravado rages through my blood, mixed with my need for the woman beside me, the one whose hand is curled trustingly into my own.
“I’m done. I’m quitting. You know it’s the right choice, don’t you.” I say it more as a statement than as a question. “I know Kinley is verging on psychotic, and there’s no way I’ll continue this. I’ll quit before she ruins me—and I’ll be a free agent.” With every event and every press release, we’re getting deeper and deeper into this, and all I want is the woman standing in front of me. I want her more than the NFL. I want her more than this job. I want her more than the money I’m funneling to my good-for-nothing brother every month.
It’s time to make a stand.
“No,” she says, looking up at me. Her hair seems surrounded in starlight. Tonight there’s a breeze that seems to signify the coming of fall. Once in a blue moon, North Carolina is blessed to get a few breezes like that in August, and it seems all at once tied to Renata. With all the mistakes both of us have made, she’s been the breath of fresh air that I needed, the very thing that reminded me of who I was.
“I’ve decided I’m done. This preseason shindig is the last event.”
“The contract. We’ve checked into it. You can’t get out of it.” The words fall flat on both of our ears.
“Fine. Yes. I’ll start the season like we both promised Eddie. Then I’m ditching Kinley publicly, and I’m with you. Then I’m going to Eddie and quitting the team. For real.” The last words catch in my throat, and I step towards Renata. She’s lovelier than ever in her tight black skirt and red high heels. On any other woman, her tailored white blouse might look severe or boring, but on her it looks sultry, sensual. I can almost taste her in my mouth, and I need her, now more than ever.
“Mack—after all the time between us—and your family—is this a good idea?” Her brown eyes are big. I take one step closer, filling the space between us, pressing my body to hers and taking her in my arms. Instinctively, I raise my hand to the top button of her blouse and open it. There’s a hubbub going on upstairs, but we’re here on the bottom porch, removed from it all.