Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3)

by Isabelle Richards

  But it seems I’m the only one. Instead of bursting with joy, her face is crestfallen. Worry lines crease her forehead. Her kiss was lackluster at best—dead fish have more fire. She doesn’t look like a woman whose dreams have just come true.

  Fuck. I must have turned off my sensitivity translator. “I mean, I’m devastated Jeb’s gone, and it sucks that he’s gone. I miss him. I know you miss him. The team will never be the same. But having said all that, he had so much respect for you. He’d been around since the inception of the league, and he knew his shit. He never would have left the team, the baby he loved as though it were his fifth child, if he didn’t believe you were the best choice for the Niners’ long-term success. And I’ve got to agree with him. If I had a team, there isn’t another person in the world I would trust with it more than you. I know it must be hard to be excited about something that came at such a high cost but—”

  She holds up her hands. “Chase, stop. You need to listen to me. I have to disclaim.”

  “Wait, what? What does that mean?”

  “I can’t accept the inheritance.”

  Has she lost her mind? “Can’t accept? Of course you can! I’d go as far as to say you have to accept. You can’t just pass up the chance to own the Niners.”

  The frustration in her eyes tells me I’m missing something. “The NFL Constitution says owners cannot have a financial interest in a player. Being married to a player would be a conflict of interest.”

  “Oh…” I take a sip of scotch.

  Suddenly the distress in her voice and all those worry lines make sense. It’s because of me. She has to turn down something that’s equivalent to winning the lottery because of me. The weight of what she’s been dancing around hits me like a haymaker to the gut.

  “I need to help Alice as much as I can though. She’s in over her head. I can’t be officially involved in any capacity, but she feels like she’s drowning, and I don’t think Oscar has the time or inclination to hold her hand through it.”

  The resolve in her voice infuriates me. I’ve never known Ari to just roll over without a fight. She’s completely given up.

  Reaching across the table, I take her hand. “Hold on, we need to back this truck up. You can’t just give up. Jeb left you the opportunity of a lifetime. There has to be a way!”

  She shakes her head. “No. You’re the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m not giving you up for anything. Jeb’s lawyer said it’s a cut-and-dry issue. It’s you or the team, and I choose you without a second thought.”

  I cannot believe Jeb would have put her in this position. It just doesn’t make any sense. Either he didn’t understand the rules, which seems unlikely, or he must have seen a way around this. Jeb loved Ari, and there’s no way he’d put her in the position where she had to make this kind of choice. “Fuck what Jeb’s lawyer says. There has to be way to make this work. We’ll talk to Carmen. There’s got to be a loophole or something. You can’t give this up. I won’t let you.”

  She puts her hand on my cheek. “I already have. It’s the easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

  I put my hands over hers. “I love you so much for your commitment to us. What you’re willing to sacrifice to keep us together is more than one person could ever ask of another. It means the world to me that you’d do that, but I cannot believe this is the only answer. We need a second opinion.”

  Looking down, she rubs her temple. The timing of this couldn’t be worse. The last thing she needs right now is stress. I step behind her chair and rub the knots of tension forming in her back. Closing her eyes, she lets her neck relax and her chin falls to her chest.

  “Please, Blondie. I know you might not see it right now, but if you don’t fight for this, part of you will regret it for the rest of your life. I’m not saying we should go to war, but we have to at least see what our options are.”

  She sighs. “I’ll talk to Carmen. She has more recent experience with the NFL than Wallace does, but I can’t imagine she’s going to tell us anything different.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chase

  “How the hell do the two of you get yourselves into these messes?” Carmen flips through the pages of information Jeb’s lawyer sent over. “I’m not complaining—work’s never boring when you’re involved—but my goodness, it’s like you’re magnets for trouble. I’ve had every free body in my office, and a few I stole from a friend’s office downstairs, working non-stop for the last twenty-four hours researching every angle of this issue. It’s great for billable hours, but man is this case a dog.”

  That was not the response I was hoping for—neither the part about paying everyone in the firm’s salary for the past few days nor the dog.

  Ari tugs on my arm. “See, I told you.”

  I glare at her. “You promised you’d keep an open mind. Now will you let the lady speak?”

  “Continue, please, Carmen,” Ari says.

  Carmen taps the papers on her desk to neaten the stack then sets them down. “The team transfer policy is spelled out specifically in the Constitution. If the team isn’t passed through family lineage, the NFL has final authority to do as they see fit. They can contradict the will, and they don’t even need to provide a reason. The NFL can even take the team, sell it, and not give the estate a dime. No loopholes. No backdoors. It’s ironclad.”

  Ari throws her hands in the air. “What? That’s not fair to Alice and all the grandkids.”

  Carmen steeples her hands. “It’s perfectly fair. The owners know exactly what they’re getting into when they buy their teams. Considering Jeb was one of the few around when the NFL Constitution was drafted, he should have known better than most. Honestly, I can’t figure out what he was thinking leaving the team to Arianna. It was a sweet gesture, but he should have known there was no way this was going to work out.”

  All this time, I’ve been thinking Jeb knew something we didn’t. That Carmen would uncover some secret clause or loophole that everyone else had missed. But it’s looking less and less like Jeb was a mastermind and more and more that he was just a sentimental old man.

  “You don’t sound encouraging, Carmen. Are there any options?” I ask.

  Shifting in her seat, Carmen crosses her legs. “The NFL Constitution is very clear. Owners cannot have a financial interest in players, so your options aren’t good. One, don’t get married.”

  “Not an option,” Ari and I say practically at the same time. I gently squeeze her hand.

  Carmen holds up her hand. “Understood. Option two, we sue. The team transference rules have never been tested in this capacity. Groups trying to buy a new team have been rejected, but the league has never defied an owner’s last wishes before.”

  “What kind of reasons have they given for rejecting ownership groups in the past?” I ask.

  Carmen looks at her notes. “Issues that have led to rejection have typically been financial, which isn’t a problem here. Rush Limbaugh was rejected because just as he was applying, he kept popping off racial slurs on his radio show, and with seventy-five percent of the league being non-Caucasian, everyone agreed Rush wasn’t the right fit. Ari doesn’t have any of these issues and is well respected amongst the owners. I think a judge would demand more if the league is going to completely disregard the last wishes of a beloved man and one of our nation’s greatest entrepreneurs.”

  “But that’s only half the problem. It doesn’t address the conflict, which is really the heart of the matter,” Ari explains.

  Carmen scratches her chin. “You’re absolutely right, so the only thing we can try is to go after the merits of the clause. The clause that prohibits owners from having a financial interest in a player was written to protect players from owners trying to play both sides—being an agent and an owner, and thus screwing the player by making the best deal for the team. That isn’t going to happen here. Chase has his own representation, so his interests are protected. The concern is nullified.”

  “Do you really think that c
ould work?” Ari asks.

  Carmen shrugs. “Depends on the judge. But even if we were able to convince a judge, the NFL would most likely appeal and the court battle would continue. It’s a long shot, but it’s something. And by the time we actually make it to court, in eight or nine years, Chase may be out of the league and the conflict issue will be resolved.”

  Ari presses her hand against her stomach. “I really don’t want to enter into a long legal battle, especially one that’s such a Hail Mary. I have way too many other important things to focus my time, effort, and energy on.”

  “That’s completely within your right.” Carmen folds her hands. “It’s not an easy decision, and the odds aren’t in your favor.”

  “If we go that route, what happens to the team in the meantime?” I ask.

  “That depends on Eckert. He could ask the other members of the trust to pick a new head for him to consider. He could just assign someone to be the head of the trust. Or he could sell the team. That would be very stupid and the trust would get an injunction, but at the end of the day, Eckert has all the power here.”

  Frustrated, I run my fingers through my hair. “Any of those options will totally fuck the team. Once word gets out there’s no one driving the bus, or worse yet, that Eckert’s plant is driving this bus, we’ll lose everyone. The team’s going to fall apart.”

  “Is there anything else?” Ari asks.

  Carmen looks at her notes. “This is more Shelly’s department, but we could approach the other owners. Apprise them of the situation. I think it’s important for someone to highlight the point that Eckert’s job is on the line and he has the opportunity to handpick a voter. Talk about a conflict of interest. The other owners have to be concerned that the balance of power is shifting.”

  “All that’s going to do is further polarize me and Eckert, which will probably make me less attractive. I’ll seem like a troublemaker. The last thing the owners want is someone they have to worry about going rouge.” Ari takes my hand. “Can we please let this go now? No matter which angle we come at it from, it’s a losing battle. It’s just not worth it to me. Let’s just focus on the wedding and the babies and getting you ready for next season.”

  Something she said a few moments ago clicks like a puzzle piece falling into place. Damn, why didn’t I think of this before?

  I turn to Ari. “The only reason Eckert won’t take your application for ownership is because of the conflict?”

  “Yeah, as far as we know,” Ari replies.

  “If you got in front of the owners of the other teams, do you think you could get the votes?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Just answer the question. Do you have the votes?”

  She shrugs. “I think if I got in front of them, I could convince them, but it doesn’t matter. We can’t get Eckert to do it, and even if I can somehow convince him to present me, I won’t be able to overcome the conflict of interest.”

  “You can if we remove the conflict.”

  “We’re not not getting married so I can own the team!” she shrieks.

  I hold up my hands. “Hold up, that’s not what I’m suggesting. That thought never crossed my mind.”

  “Then what are you suggesting because I’m totally lost here.”

  Carmen narrows her eyes. “What’s your idea, Chase?”

  “I’m going to retire.”

  Ari’s eyes go so wide, I worry they’re going to pop out. “What?”

  “If I retire, it eliminates the conflict. It’s the simplest solution.”

  “He’s right,” Carmen replies. “If Chase were willing to do that, it takes away any of Eckert’s arguments. At a minimum, he’d have to present you to the ownership, and then it comes down to the vote.”

  Ari gapes at me. She looks as though she’s searching for the right words to scream at me. I’m guessing none of them are pleasant.

  I put my hand on her arm. “Just listen—”

  “No, you listen.” Her face turns deeper shades of red by the second as she jumps off her chair. “Absolutely not. It’s out of the question. That is more preposterous than not getting married. Get that thought out of your head right now, because it’s not up for debate.”

  Before I have the chance to respond, Carmen clears her throat then scoops the files into her hands. “I’m going to step out and let you two talk.”

  Ari’s eyes follow Carmen as she leaves the room, then her head snaps back around toward me. “You’re not retiring, and that is final.”

  I know she’s probably feeling a million things right now, but nothing makes my blood boil faster than when she talks to me as though I’m a child. “Seriously, Arianna.”

  She crosses her arms. “I am serious. You’re healthy and at the peak of your career after a record-breaking season. You’re not walking away. I won’t let you.”

  “Yeah, I did the impossible this year. I had the perfect combination of teammates, motivation, and a shitload of luck—something I’ll never be able to replicate. So for the rest of my career, people will always compare me to what I did this year. They’ll wonder if I’ll ever be as good as I was, which I won’t. There’s nowhere to go but down for me. If I go out now, I’m at the top of my game, ending my career on a high note. I’ll be able to walk up the stairs without pain when I’m fifty. There’s no concussion risk doing the carpool circuit. Plus, I won’t be out of football entirely. You and I can run the team together. I get all the fun of being in football without three-hundred-pound guys trying to take me out.”

  She throws her hands in the air. “You don’t get it! I watched my father wonder for the rest of his life what would have happened if he had stayed in the game. I can’t tell you the number of times he debated coming out of retirement. It haunted him. I didn’t even love tennis, and I still feel the sting of having to quit early. You can’t imagine what it feels like to know there’s greatness inside you that will never be realized! You cannot imagine how it’s going to feel one day, a year from now, when you’re going to wake up and say, ‘What the hell happened to my life? What am I supposed to do now that I can’t play? What’s my purpose?’”

  “No, I’m not. I’m going to wake up and be thrilled I didn’t miss my kids’ first words or their first steps. When our kids play baseball or soccer or dance or whatever, I won’t have to watch the video at midnight when I finally get back home. I’ll be there to cheer them on. There is no doubt in my mind what my purpose will be. I’m going to be the best damn father and husband I can be.”

  “What if we don’t win the vote? Then you’ve given up your career for nothing!”

  Stepping in front of her, I put my hand on her hip and pull her closer. This is a decision we need to make together, not screaming at each other from across the room. “I know you don’t think I know what I’m doing, but I do. The moment I heard you inherited the team, the first thought that crossed my mind was that this is what you were meant to do. Football’s in your blood. You understand the game at a deeper level than most players and coaches. You understand the business side of the organization, something most people completely forget about. You always see the big picture, which is so hard for most people. I wish I could play for you, because I know with every fucking cell in my body that you will make sure the Niners have the best damn team possible. There’s no one better on this planet to run this team.” I put my finger under her chin and tilt her head up so I can look into her eyes. “You have to do this. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’ll do it together.”

  Her eyes sparkle. “Yeah?”

  “Of course. I think we’ve proven over the last few years that we make one helluvah team. The two of us working together for the Niners? We’ll be unstoppable.”

  She lays her head on my chest. “My head is spinning. I don’t know what the right answer is. I want this, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. The more I focus on it, the more I think about how much I wish I could talk to Daddy. I miss h
im so damn much. I wish he were here.”

  I run my fingers through her hair. “If he were here, the team would have gone to him, and ultimately it would have been yours one day. This is your fate. You can’t escape it. You were meant to run this team.”

  She looks at me. “Let’s go home. I need to sleep on it.”

  I kiss her forehead. “Sure thing. Whatever you need.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chase

  “I’ve been a Niner fan my entire life. The day I was drafted was one of the happiest days of my life. I can remember sitting at the draft table, praying I didn’t go to another team because wearing any other jersey would have felt like a betrayal. It has been such an honor and privilege to play for this organization and for the people of San Francisco. And that is why it’s so bittersweet for me to announce my retirement from the National Football League.”

  Are you retiring because of Niner-gate?

  The pressure become too much?

  Is this because of the death threats?

  Rumor has it you’re being forced to retire by the NFL. Is there any truth to that?

  Are you retiring to save your relationship? Is Arianna leaving you for Henrik?

  I pause on my way off the stage, considering if I want to address any of their questions, but I decide to just keep walking. They’re going to write what they want to write, and the whole story will come out soon enough. People will either believe it or they won’t. Either way, I don’t really give a shit anymore.

  That’s the best part of this new plan. No more worrying about endorsements or contracts. If the media doesn’t like us, who the fuck cares? I bet if we were to ask a hundred average Americans, only a few would be able to name even a few owners of any professional sports team. Ari and I will slip out of the limelight. The media won’t go away entirely, but they won’t follow our every move like they do now. We’ll be able to breathe without being judged, even raise our kids with a little privacy.