by Julia Blake
Can’t get U a round yet. Working out details.
She swiped over to her contacts and dialed a scout in Arizona.
“Cooper,” she said by way of greeting, “what have you got for me?”
“Nothin’,” the man’s gruff voice came up. “We’re working out a trade right now. I’ve got to go.”
Damn. Shut out again and again.
“With the one hundred twenty-seventh pick in the 2016 NFL draft, Denver selects Jerry Cameron, guard, University of Virginia.”
“Come on, come on,” Marcus muttered from the couch.
Rachel cleared her throat. “LA and Arizona are coming up. Then there’s the next round for Seattle and Kansas City. We’re going to get there, guys.”
The rest of the family squirmed on the couch, but Kevin fixed her with a cool gaze and nodded once. Always a quiet kid, he’d grown into quite the confident, assured young man in the last weeks. He was ready.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Dan:
Smile for the camera.
Her heart went from zero to sixty, and her eyes whipped over to the TV. The LA Breakers’ quarterback, Chad Berkeley, was onstage, his Hollywood-star grin lighting up the screen to announce his team’s pick as one of the NFL commissioner’s special guests meant to keep fans excited during the sometimes long stretches between picks. She pressed her phone to her chest.
“With the one hundred twenty-eighth pick in the 2016 NFL draft, the LA Breakers select Kevin Loder, wide receiver, Syracuse University.”
The house erupted in cheers. Kevin jumped up and hugged his mom. Then he swung his sister into his arms and did a little shuffle dance before putting her down as his dad slapped him on the back.
This. This was why she did the job.
Her phone rang in her hand. “Hello?” she answered as the Loders continued to shout with happiness.
“Sounds like a party’s going on over there.” Dan laughed into the phone.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Fourth round, huh? Didn’t you tell me that was a little high?”
“We heard Arizona and Chicago were planning to poach him in the fifth. I’d say we got a pretty good deal.”
Suddenly Rachel got swept up in a bear hug. Kevin was spinning her around the living room. “Dan,” she shouted, “I’ve got to call you back!”
“You did it!” Kevin yelled in her ear. “You did it!”
“Kevin, put me down. These shoes cost more than my life.”
He dropped her unceremoniously onto the carpet and grinned. “I’m in the NFL.”
“You’re in the NFL,” she said with a smile.
“Rachel Pollard, you get over here,” Catherine said as she pulled her into a hug and then kissed her on both cheeks. “I’ll never forget what you did for my boy.”
Rachel hugged the woman. “He did it himself. I just nudged him in the right direction. Now it’s time to celebrate.”
“Marcus,” shouted Catherine, “call the cousins!”
He swept up the house phone and started dialing. “It might be April, but we’re going to barbecue tonight!”
Rachel stood back, watching the happy family celebrate. A little smile played on her lips, but she knew something was missing. A tall, handsome something who had the annoyingly charming habit of pissing her off and then kissing her deep to make it better. She wanted to share this with Nick.
He didn’t have to go out of his way to help fix things for Kevin. There was no scoop in talking to an athlete who had free and open access to all media outlets. And yet, he’d managed to help Kevin in a way that no one else had. He’d made his story everyone’s story.
“Is everything okay?”
Rachel blinked, realizing she’d been staring into space. While Kevin had followed his mother and sister to the kitchen, his father had stayed behind, and now Marcus stood there, scrutinizing her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m a million miles away. It’s such a relief to have him drafted.”
Marcus’s lips twitched. “Don’t I know it.”
“You must be so proud.”
He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and shrugged. “My son has a college degree and he’s about to get a chance to do what he loves for a living. It doesn’t get much better than that.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Marcus gave her a long look. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you can’t stay. Not because you aren’t welcome, but I get a feeling that there’s somewhere you should be.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Where would that be?”
“My wife’s still mad at him, but Nick’s not a bad guy. He made a mistake. He tried to fix it, and I think, as much as he did it for Kevin, he really did it for you. Don’t you think it’s worth hearing him out?”
The man who usually let his wife do the talking had left her speechless. “How do you know?” she asked, choking out the question.
“Because when two people are that much in love, you can tell. And you can also tell when they’re miserable because they aren’t together.”
He was right. Nick was what was missing from her life. He calmed her at the end of a long day. He made her laugh and made her feel like she had an anchor here in the city. He pushed her, wanting ambitious things for her like her own firm and everything that came with it. But most important, he’d shown her she was worthy of being loved. That she didn’t have to settle for half-hearted attempts at relationships. She was worth more than that.
She needed to tell him those things. To accept his apology and apologize herself. To tell him she loved him even if that meant he could hurt her all over again.
She grabbed her purse off the couch. “I have to go.”
“I figured you might,” said Marcus. “I’ll tell Catherine you had to start working on Kevin’s contract. That’ll keep her happy.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Let yourself be happy too, Rachel,” he said as she reached the front door.
She opened it but looked back. “I will.”
AN HOUR later, Rachel stood defeated in front of the elevator on Nick’s floor. She’d gone to his apartment but no one was home. She’d leaned on the intercom until a neighbor had buzzed her in out of pity. She’d knocked on his front door, but still nothing. He wasn’t home, and she had no idea where he would be now that he was no longer working at NYSN.
Just her luck that she’d finally come to accept that the boy she’d crushed on in high school was the man she wanted to be with now, and he wasn’t even home for her to tell him.
With a sigh, Rachel watched the floors tick up as the car sped toward her. Kevin was drafted. Tomorrow she’d give her notice to Rob and strike out on her own. And then? Then she would find Nick. But for now she’d go home, open a bottle of wine, and figure out what she would say to him when she saw him next.
The elevator dinged softly as it got to the fifth floor, and the doors slid open. Rachel started to step forward but froze. Standing in the elevator looking hangdog tired was Nick.
Their eyes met and she opened her mouth but before she could say anything she was in Nick’s arms and he was kissing her. Her fingers dug into the wool of his sweater as she clung on for dear life. Nick’s lips moved over hers and the world seemed to shift back off its crooked axis. The thoughts warring in her head drifted to silence. He was here and she was at peace again.
He pulled back and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Hi.”
She closed her eyes, not wanting to let go of the moment. “Hi.”
“You did it. Fourth round,” he said.
“You were watching?” she asked, even though somehow she knew he wouldn’t have missed it.
“Every moment of it. I wanted to see Kevin prove everyone wrong, but mostly I was hoping to catch a glimpse of you. And now you’re here
,” he whispered, and kissed her on the forehead.
She let her body sink against his. “I am.”
“And you haven’t slapped me yet, so I’m guessing that kiss was okay.”
Laughter bubbled up in her, and she closed her eyes again to drink in the spicy, masculine scent of him. “I’ve thought about doing that a lot in the last couple weeks.”
“I would have let you.” He set her back at an arm’s length. “So why didn’t you?”
“I—” She opened her mouth, unable to put into words everything she was feeling. How did she tell him how empty she felt without him, as though one half of her had been cut away? She wanted to let him know—everything was dimmer when he wasn’t there.
“Rachel,” he said, his voice strained with raw, emotional pain, “there are so many things I want to apologize for, I don’t even know where to start.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I do. I made the worst choice of my life. I picked my job over you. I knew working with you was going to be dangerous. I think I knew even before I understood how much I wanted you that it could be a problem.” His eyes lifted to meet hers, searching for answers to questions she didn’t yet know. “But then I got scared. Everything I felt for you was so much stronger than anything I’d ever experienced before. And then that day—”
She put a hand on his forearm. “That day we both made choices. I walked away from you.”
He covered her hand with his. “Which is exactly what I’d expect from a woman I respect as much as you.”
Respect. It was what she’d strived for her entire career. And yet somehow the word felt hollow. She needed more from him. She needed everything.
She started to pull her hand away, but Nick stopped her with a little pressure. “What I feel for you is more than just respect, Rachel. I love you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed you to know that.”
Slowly she slid her hand up to his cheek. “You still love me?”
One side of his mouth quirked up in that crooked smile she knew so well. “I was actually in the Bronx trying to find you to tell you. I went to the Loders’ house thinking I might catch you there.”
“And Catherine didn’t try to put a stake through your heart?” she asked with a laugh.
“We’re on better terms after that interview. I think Kevin talked to her.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I love you. And I’m asking for your forgiveness, even though I don’t deserve it. I promise I’ll work every day to rebuild your trust in me. Just give me a chance.”
She closed her eyes and leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around her. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.
“I love you, and I want to be with you. I know I’m not the easiest woman in the world. I work too much, I’m used to getting my own way, I can’t promise that we’ll always agree on things.”
“I wouldn’t want you any other way. So how do we make this work?” he asked. “I’m not going to stop being a journalist, and I’d never ask you to stop being an agent.”
That was the problem. They could go in with all of the good intentions in the world, but all of those would fall apart if they didn’t have ground rules.
If this were an endorsement deal or a media availability or even a contract negotiation, Rachel would know exactly what to do. But it wasn’t. It was the rest of her life.
But why can’t it be?
A grin spread across her face as an idea bloomed in her head. “Unlock the door.”
He chuckled. “Shouldn’t we work this out first?”
“We can’t do what I have in mind in the hallway.”
He shot her a look. “I’m all in favor of sex, but—”
She scowled. “This first, sex later.”
Quirking an eyebrow, he pulled out his keys and led the way to his door. Once inside the apartment, she set her purse down and pulled her iPad free. Flipping it open, she put it on Nick’s tiny kitchen table and began to type.
“What are you writing?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.
“Our rules.”
He began to read out loud:
Our Rules
1. We will agree never to work directly with one another again. Nick will inform his future employer of our relationship and recuse himself from stories involving Rachel’s clients, and Rachel will not pitch stories to Nick.
2. Nick will not use Rachel as a source. Rachel will not use Nick to try to plant stories.
“Yes and yes,” he said quickly. “I want to keep things as clear as possible professionally. I’m just going to add something here.”
He playfully nudged her out of the way and took over the iPad.
3. Nick and Rachel will continue to support and encourage each other both in and outside of work.
4. Nick and Rachel will, at least once a year, take simultaneous vacation time and go on a trip somewhere that does not have cell phone service or a premium sports package.
She laughed. “One hundred percent agree. Cell phones stay off on vacation.”
“No argument from me,” he said.
She took the keyboard back.
5. Rachel and Nick promise to cook dinner together at least once a week, working around each other’s terrible schedules.
He snorted and wrote.
6. Nick promises to give Rachel foot rubs when she’s been wearing those black high heels he really likes too long.
“Which pair?” she asked.
“There’s more than one?”
She patted him on the arm. “I’m going to introduce you to my shoe collection very, very slowly.”
“Worried I might pass out in shock?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
She took the keyboard back and wrote:
7. Rachel will try her best not to steal all of the comforter at night and use Nick’s razor without asking even though it’s sharper than hers.
He stared at that last one. “I was wondering why the blades were getting dull so fast.”
“Sorry. I’m turning over a new leaf,” she said.
He stroked his hand down her arm and picked her hand up to kiss the inside of her wrist. “So am I. What do you say we keep adding to this? Little things, big things. It doesn’t matter. I like knowing the ground rules because when I’m with you, I can’t think straight.”
“Neither can I,” she said.
Nick laughed. “Now, can I kiss you again?”
Her lips spread in a slow smile. “I think you probably should. Just to make sure we still remember how.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled a little. “I plan on kissing you a lot.”
“Any other plans?” she teased.
“I was going to suggest we revisit that ‘sex later’ thing you suggested in the hallway.”
Heat spread through her body. “Is that right?”
He moved so he could nibble on her earlobe, and desire shimmered through her. “First I’d like to see about getting you out of this dress and those shoes. Then I want you on my bed, on top of me.”
“I want that too. And other things,” she said.
He grinned. “We can definitely do other things. And then, maybe later tonight we’ll put on a game.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You say the sexiest things to me.”
He grinned. “So long as I can keep saying them.”
“As often as you want.”
She drew him down for another kiss with a promise of forever.
Epilogue
THREE YEARS LATER
You’re the only bride I know who’d be on her phone two hours before her wedding.”
Rachel shoved her phone into the folds of her painted silk robe as a hairstylist worked what felt like the 530th pin into her hair and looked up to find her mother
, Beth, standing in front of her with a glass of champagne and a grin.
“I was just checking my texts,” she said.
Her mother handed her the glass and picked up the clear plastic box that held a pure white Madonna lily. She opened the box and offered it to the hairdresser, who plucked up the blossom and began to weave it into Rachel’s hair.
“What could you do for a client from your bridal suite?” her mother asked.
“You don’t even want to know, Beth,” said Emma, who walked up with Louise on her arm. Already clad in their bridesmaid dresses with their hair and makeup done, each of them had their own glass of champagne.
“I’ve seen Rachel negotiate a sneaker deal from the roof of a cabin in the Catskills because that was the only place she could get reception,” said Louise.
Rachel’s mother rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You all work too hard.”
“Tell the boss to lay off,” said Emma with a grin.
Rachel laughed. As soon as the ink was dry on Kevin’s contract, she’d made sure she had a fresh backup of her contacts downloaded and walked into Rob’s office to quit. He’d blustered and yelled and then threatened to sue her if she ever tried to work in New York City again. Calmly she slid a printed copy of her own contract across the table and pointed to it.
“I don’t have a non-compete clause,” she said.
“What?” Rob barked, his face growing redder and redder by the minute.
“I negotiated it out of my contract.”
He snatched up the document. “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
“That’s because you didn’t review my contract. You had Brad do it.” Brad, who was notoriously sloppy and hadn’t bothered to run the document through the gambit of lawyers who should’ve had eyes on it. Brad, who had been easy enough to run circles around when she was a junior agent of no real importance because the man had assumed she’d be gone in six months, unable to hack it in a man’s world.
“Your Rolodex is mine,” said Rob. “That doesn’t walk out of the building.”
“Rob,” she said with a shake of her head, “I’ve been digital since I started. The fact that you don’t know that says a lot. Also, you’ll see that my contract includes a clause that states that any contact numbers acquired during my tenure here are my mine. They walk with me.”
