Liar. There’s a zero percent chance you’re going to exchange keys with a man you’re actively avoiding.
“Have you been to the grocery store? Should I send you some basics?”
Delightful. Now he thinks I can’t even buy my own groceries…
“I’m good, seriously. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got everything under control over here.”
There’s a long pause, and for an instant, I think I’ve offended him, but then he continues, his tone all business. “So what do you have planned for the team this week?”
I bristle.
If I’d known this was going to be a work call, I might not have answered. I’ve never been great at setting boundaries, and with Adam, it’s even more challenging because of our unusual relationship.
But I can’t say that, so I answer truthfully. “We’re focusing on goal-setting and visualization techniques. Building trust takes time. I need to get to know each of the guys better and observe team interactions before I can implement more targeted interventions.”
“Right, of course. It’s a process.” He pauses. “Think you could make it a goal-scoringprocess?”
I blink. Then an unexpected laugh bursts from my lips.
“Did you just make a dad joke?”
“Maybe.” He sounds pleased with himself. “Too cheesy?”
“No, it was perfect.” My chest warms. This is what I’ve been missing my whole life. These small, silly moments that other people take for granted. “I’ll see what I can do about the goal-scoring.”
We talk for a few more minutes about the team’s 1-1-1 record, and I do my best to sound optimistic. The game against the Hurricanes had been particularly hard to watch. Though it got off to a solid start, the Gliders were floundering by the third period, and it was clear Knox was frustrated and probably blaming himself, when in reality, the team is a mess. They fight like toddlers, refuse to open up in sessions, and seem more concerned with their mascot than actually working on team cohesion.
On the bright side, they were more than happy to spill the tea on Dr. Banks. He’s known for being quick to offer prescriptions and rarely engages with the guys on the team. He’s basically just a figurehead for mental health, and no one trusts him, which is making my job ten times harder.
One of the athletic trainers tipped me off that Banks is a member of the same country club as the team’s general manager, which explains how he got the job, despite being a misogynistic creep.
But I don’t tell Adam any of that. He’s already protective enough, and I need to figure out how to handle Banks on my own.
“So listen,” Adam says, upbeat now. “The real reason I called is to talk to you about dinner tomorrow.”
My anxiety spikes. I can’t handle anymore surprise dinner guests. “What about it?”
“Knox is bringing someone special.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Someone special?
Knox. Is bringing. Someone special.
My vision blurs, and I grip the counter to steady myself. Only a week ago, he was begging me to give him a chance, swearing that we could make this work. Insisting he wouldn’t give up on me.
“Oh,” I manage, my voice barely a whisper. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, I’m excited to meet her,” Adam continues, oblivious to the fact that I’m currently dying inside. “Knox doesn’t bring people around often, so this must be serious. I’m thinking of picking up a nice dessert, you know, to make a good impression. Do you think that’s a good idea? Or is that too much?”
He sounds nervous. Excited. Like a father who wants to impress his son’s girlfriend.
I want to scream.
“No, that’s…that’s a great idea.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
She. The woman Knox is bringing. The woman who isn’t me.