The One & Only(119)
She shrugged modestly as I told her that I hadn’t even begun mine. I remembered the Cowboys gear that Ryan had given me for my family and made a mental note to drop it all off with the Community Partners of Dallas, a charity for abused children.
“So how excited are you for Pasadena?” Neil asked, referring to the venue for the BCS championship game. The question sounded stilted, and it occurred to me that, as the only guy in the group, he might have the most stressful assignment tonight, especially because he had clearly looked up to Ryan. We all had, really.
“Very,” I said flatly.
“Wait. I thought teams weren’t picked until Selection Sunday? This weekend?” Lucy asked.
I nodded, proud of her for knowing this detail but explaining that it was only a technicality this year. There were only two undefeated teams left in the country, and we were one of them. We would definitely be deemed either number one or number two in the final BCS standings, along with Alabama, both teams earning their way to the championship game.
“I wish Mom could be there,” Lucy said, licking salt from the rim of her glass. “She’d be so thrilled …”
Neil put his arm around her and said, “This is all happening because of your mom, sweetie.”
“Do you really think that’s true, Shea?” she asked, turning to me.
“Yes,” I said, running my hand over the cold glass and finally taking a long drink. “Our guys are playing their hearts out for Coach. You can feel it in every win. And he is coaching for her. So … yeah. She has a lot to do with our success.”
Lucy swallowed, looking somber, and even more so as she switched gears and said, “It’s almost seven. Is there anything left to strategize?”
“No,” I said. “It’s going to be a very short conversation.”
“Well, get ready to have it,” Neil said. “He just walked in.”
I braced myself but did not look toward the door, gathering strength by looking at Lucy’s face as Ryan descended upon us, looming over our booth in baggy jeans, a crew-neck sweater, and a plain navy baseball cap that was lowered enough to hide his eyes from most anyone who might be watching us. From where I was sitting, though, I could see them, and could tell he was disappointed that I wasn’t alone.
“Hey, y’all,” he said, his voice low.
Lucy and I said quiet hellos back as Neil stood, shook Ryan’s hand, and said, “Hey, Ryan. How ya doin’, man?”
“Fine, man. Thanks,” Ryan said. He looked glum and ashamed. Or maybe it was an act, part of his strategy. I reminded myself that anything he said or did or felt was now irrelevant. My mind was made up.
As planned, Lucy stood, nudged Neil, and said that they would be at the bar. As soon as they were out of earshot, Ryan said, “So? May I join you?”
“Yes,” I said, motioning toward the vacant side of the booth. Ryan sat across from me and immediately reached for my hands, now clammy. I drew away and wiped my palms on my jeans.
“Shea,” he said, exhaling. “Please. Please forgive me.”
“Okay,” I said, a flippant edge in my voice. “I forgive you.”
Grossly misinterpreting my meaning, Ryan’s face instantly relaxed, regaining some of its usual glory. “Oh, thank you, babe. That will never happen again. That wasn’t me … The next time, we’ll both just take a moment … regroup … not let a silly misunderstanding escalate.”
I shook my head. “No, Ryan. There isn’t going to be a next time.” I took the velvet box out of my purse and extended my arm across the table, handing it to him. “Here.”
He stared at the box and said, “Are those your earrings?”
“Not anymore. I’m returning them.”
When he still wouldn’t take the box, I put it between his forearms, resting on the table.
He pushed it back over to me. “No. They were a gift.”
“I can’t keep them.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Because I got upset one night?”
My mind raced with strategic replies. I had prepared extensively for this, as I knew he wouldn’t make it easy, but he was good. Clearly practiced.
“I don’t want to discuss it, Ryan,” I said, pushing the box back toward his side of the table as if playing a contentious game of chess. “It’s over with us. And I don’t want these earrings.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“No?” I said, incredulous. “What do you mean no?”
“Even if you never want to see me again, they’re still yours.”
I drew a deep breath and audibly exhaled. “Fine,” I said, scooping up the box and dropping it back in my purse as I caught Lucy glancing over her shoulder at us with a worried look. “But just so you know, I’m going to sell them and give the proceeds to charity. There’s a great organization that helps abused women and children.” I emphasized the word abused and stared him down.