Sexy Six

by Ahren Sanders

  “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

  The first thought that runs through my mind is she’s pregnant. Instead of being scared to death, I’m ecstatic. This means I can keep her with me without seeming like the biggest jackass on the planet. Images of her and Bizzy being pregnant together start to run wild through my head. My mom is going to go batshit crazy.

  Then I look at her closer and see the same anguish I felt three weeks ago. This isn’t a surprise pregnancy announcement. Whatever it is, it’s going to gut me.

  “I’ve been dishonest with you. At first, I didn’t think it mattered because you wanted your space. But then you came in with barrels blazing, not wanting space. It was too late. There wasn’t anything I could do without ruining my credibility, so I tried to stay distant, but you wouldn’t let me—”

  “Baby, you’re babbling. We’ve gone over this before.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t let me tell you. I tried to tell you on the boat, but you wouldn’t hear me out.”

  “You’re losing me here, Grace. What is going on?”

  “I’m not going to Seattle for a few months. I’m leaving Miami for a year!”

  Her statement swirls in my head, not fully sinking in until I see the sheer fear on her face. I have to turn my back and take several deep breaths.

  ‘I’m leaving Miami for a year!’ replays over and over.

  A fucking year?

  I spin back to her with hurt and anger bubbling inside. “Repeat that,” I hiss. “Tell me I heard you wrong.”

  “I tried to tell you. I tried—”

  “You should have tried harder. Maybe blurted out the fact that you were abandoning me for a year.”

  She cries silently, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m not abandoning you. You wanted space. You wanted to take things slow. I saw you on video with another woman in your arms. It was all too much for me.”

  “You know all of that was bullshit! Every single bit of it. So now you’re the one punishing me? All that shit these last few days? I busted my ass to make sure you knew how much I loved you. I’ve beat myself up trying to prove my devotion, but you’ve known you were leaving me.”

  “I trie—”

  “Tried,” I finish for her. “You tried to tell me. I get that. Come up with something new. So you really didn’t forgive me? You were stringing me along, trying to hurt me?”

  “Hurting you was and is the last thing on my mind. I love you, Nick.”

  “You love me? You’re going to stand here and tell me you love me after lying to me. What was your plan, Grace, to leave again and reappear, hoping we’d have a third chance?”

  She jolts, looking like I’ve struck her. Instantly, I feel shame, but my fury takes over.

  Her eyes clear and she straightens, determination on her face. “I thought we’d gotten through that. My grandma died, and I went home. I didn’t leave you.”

  “What do you want from me here, Grace? You’ve just thrown my world into a tailspin.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick, for everything. You’re right. I should have blurted it out, made you listen to me. For that, I take the blame. But now, I’m going to go. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  In a flash, she kisses me on the cheek and walks away, disappearing into the sea of people going to security.

  When I shake out of my stupor, I call her name and search for her. She’s nowhere to be seen.

  Fuck no, I’m not losing her again.

  I take off running to the front of the terminal like a madman. When I get to the Delta Airlines Service Center, the line is fifty deep. I whip out my phone and try calling her, telling her to stay put, that I’m coming, but her voicemail picks up immediately. By the time I get to a ticketing agent, I’m sweating bullets. It’s been almost an hour since Grace walked away.

  “Can I help you?” the perky agent asks, her eyes scanning over me hungrily.

  “Hey, sweetie.” I draw out the ‘sweetie’ in a way that gets her attention. “I need to surprise a friend who’s flying to Seattle. Can you get me on the next flight out?”

  She gives me a flirty smile and starts typing. “I see there’s a flight leaving in about one hour, which is cutting it close, but if you don’t have baggage, I can slide you through security, Mr. Bennett.”

  She tries to sound sexy, but it makes my skin crawl. I try to hide my disdain by fisting my hand so hard my nails dig into my palm. If flirting with this woman will get me to Grace, it’ll be worth it.

  I peek at her name tag and swallow hard, pasting on my signature smile. “Carli, I’d love to be on that flight. Can you see if the seat next to Miss Grace Monroe is available? If not, can you upgrade both seats to first class?” I slide my Amex across the counter.

  She types some more, scowling as she starts pounding the keys. “Mr. Bennett, there is no Grace Monroe on this flight.”

  “There has to be some mistake. I just left her off at security.”

  “No mistake, she’s not on the flight to Seattle, or any of our connecting flights into Seattle.”

  I think fast, knowing I helped check her bags in at the Delta counter earlier. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my racing heart. For the first time in my life, I use my celebrity status, knowing I’m desperate.

  “It’s really important I find her. Can you please check again? Her name is Grace Rae Monroe, birthdate June eighteenth.”

  Carli types some more, her face growing serious with each tap. “Mr. Bennett, I’m sorry, I can’t give you any more information.”

  Motherfucker! Grace is in this airport, and I’m getting to her. I think fast, tapping the credit card nervously on the counter. Sweat slides down my neck and back knowing I’m running out of time.

  “Mr. Bennett?” Carli jerks me from my thoughts. “I found a Grace Rae Monroe on an international flight. Destination Athens, Greece through Atlanta.”

  Fucking Greece? Grace is going to Greece?

  “Get me to Atlanta.”

  “I can get you to Atlanta, but I can’t get you to her. The flight she’s on has already boarded, and by the time I get you there, she’ll be airborne to Greece.” She gives me a sympathetic smile.

  I hang my head in defeat. My temper fucked it up this time.

  “Thank you, Carli.” I back away and walk impassively to the parking garage.

  Somewhere along the way, a few people recognize me, but I don’t acknowledge the shouts and calls for autographs.

  Now what?

  My doorbell buzzes for the fourth time, but I don’t move from my lounger, where I stare aimlessly at the computer screen that’s tracking Grace’s flight to Greece. One hand holds my phone and the other a bottle of Johnny Walker.

  Voices grow loud inside my condo behind me, and I groan into the night, cursing loudly.

  Why do I give these fucking people keys to my place?

  “He’s out here!” Mathis yells backwards, finding me on the balcony.

  Immediately, people crowd around me, Bizzy scooting in and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She bumps my hip until I make enough room for her to lay out beside me.

  “We heard,” is all she says.

  “Bad news travels fast.”

  Someone tries to remove the bottle of Johnny Walker from my grip, and I growl until Grandpa Roy’s face appears in front of mine.

  “Rude not to share.” He takes a swig directly from the bottle and eyes me warily.

  “Not feeling very hospitable.” I return his glare.

  “She didn’t tell you.”

  “She told me half, I freaked, she ran… I went after her. But then I couldn’t get to her.” I surmise the story in two sentences.

  “Stubborn ass granddaughter of mine.”

  I give a strangled laugh. “She said that. On the boat, she said she should have listened to you. At the time, I didn’t understand. Something about letting me apologize.”

  “Did she tell you anything?” Logan pulls up a chair, followed by Shaw, Mathis, Carl, and
Sharon.

  “Jesus, how many of you are there?” I twist my head and search my condo to see if my own parents are lurking in the shadows. Bizzy gives a small giggle and places her head on my chest.

  “She didn’t tell you.” Logan reaches for the bottle from Roy. I watch as the rest of my JW disappears into Logan’s mouth.

  “I’ll tell him.” Carl leans his elbows on his knees, eyes piercing into mine.

  He repeats the events from last night and the extent of Grace’s opportunity in Greece. Apparently, Logan went to work today and spent every hour researching the artist Grace will be studying under. This isn’t some measly opportunity to gain credentials; this is big time. Grace could be famous in her industry once the year is over.

  Bizzy gently takes my phone, handing it to Shaw, then does the same with my computer to Mathis. I start to argue, but Shaw shoots me a warning look, his hand flexing into a fist. He’s not happy about Bizzy being draped around me, but he won’t dare say anything.

  “She loves you, Nick,” Sharon tells me gently. “Unfortunately, she has a lot of the Rae and Monroe traits. Regardless of the opportunity, she wasn’t going to back down once she committed. Now, we need to figure out how to make this right.”

  My head pounds, and the need to be alone overwhelms me. “Is everyone always this meddling?” I ask out loud.

  “Always,” everyone responds.

  I lay my head back and close my eyes, picturing Grace the night she showed me the small glass sculpture of the peach tree she created. Her face lit up with so much happiness that I know this is where she needs to be.

  Memories of the last three months flash through my mind, and I hold tight to Bizzy, needing her more than ever. She doesn’t let go, finally whispering in my ear, “You have to go to her.”

  I snap my eyes open and zone in on Shaw. “I need you.”

  “I’ll do what I can do. It’ll be tough. You win the next two games, you’ll have twelve days between season and divisional championships. You can skate out for four days max. ”

  “Consider it done. And plan any interviews online or phone.”

  “This has to stay completely confidential. One-hundred percent, no one can know their star quarterback is jet-setting across the globe, especially before the biggest games.”

  “We’ll help any way we can. Circulate his name around the art community. Take a few candid shots then leak them so people think he’s still in town,” Logan offers.

  “And I’ll even take Shannon Rails to lunch, feeding her snippets about Nick’s preparations for the games,” Bizzy suggests. “I can’t stand her, but she’ll be able to spread the word he’s in his zone.”

  “I’ll be here, too, coming and going, so no one catches on he’s not in his condo.” Mathis remembers the local paparazzi staking out my place last year.

  My head starts to clear, feeling the support around me. My phone dings with a text, and Shaw tosses it to me.

  Grace is finally responding to my text from hours ago.

  SP: I love you, too, Nick. Sorry I disappointed you.

  I don’t respond in front of all these people. Instead, I start working on my game plan.

  Two wins plus one week, and I’m going to her.

  Chapter 32

  Grace

  Greece is breathtaking.

  Beautiful, ancient, classic. Everything about Athens has been more than I can imagine. The days bring so much joy and adventure, traveling around the city to different places and experiencing the culture. I’ve met with so many artists, browsing through their work.

  It’s the nights that kill me. I lay in my bed wondering what’s happening at home, both in Thomasville and Miami.

  The holidays were the hardest, missing Christmas at home. I received several e-cards from Mom and Dad, Bizzy, Claire, and Maria with gifts cards, which made me laugh because I did similarly. All my shopping was online this year. The only personal gift was the picture in the gallery I wanted Nick to have. Logan delivered it and promised me it was hung exactly where I wanted it.

  My biggest surprise came from Grandpa Roy in the form of a Netflix gift card and a note to start watching some of his shows. I did, emailing him nightly how ludicrous they were, then admitting I was hooked

  I rang in New Years alone, then spent the next day streaming the Miami game, watching Nick and Miami win another game in a row. I sent him a text of congratulations, and he replied thanking me. That was the extent of our communication—a few texts throughout the weeks, none of them mentioning the state of our relationship.

  I expected more anger when he found out where I was, but there was none. His message was sweet, kind, and encouraging.

  Sweet Peach, your family told me about this chance of a lifetime. Now, it’s my turn to say kick ass. I’m sorry for the way I acted in the airport. When the shock wore off, the words I should have said finally surfaced. So I’ll say them now.

  I love you, Grace.

  What happens next may be a mystery, but never doubt how much I’ve loved you since the day I saw you again.

  You have a whole bunch of people rooting for you, and we’re all proud.

  That was three weeks ago, and so far, neither of us has called.

  My life here is getting easier, but every day I regret my immature actions. Who knows how things could have ended if I’d only talked to Nick? There are too many what-ifs, and all of them are my fault.

  The only thing I have to look forward to is next week when I start with Doni. I didn’t understand why she demanded that I come to Greece early before we started our training. But now it makes sense. She wanted me to get acclimated to my surroundings and prove I wasn’t going to run back to the states homesick.

  My stomach growls, and I glance at my watch, deciding on an early dinner. Then I’ll be home in time to watch one of the stupid shows I’ve become addicted to and text Grandpa before I go to bed.

  It’s only a seven hour time difference, but with no social life, I find myself in bed by ten most nights.

  The little café I’ve grown to love is less than a block from my studio apartment, and when I walk in, the waitress waves for me to sit anywhere. If given a choice, I always choose a table in the corner with a view of the street that’s private enough I don’t feel stupid sitting alone. Today, I luck out and sit, setting my iPad on the table.

  I order my usual and open my email, covering my laugh when at least a dozen are from Logan. My waitress gives me a wink when she brings my water, knowing my routine. Carefully, I answer each one, reminding him that next week, my availability will decrease.

  A throat clears loudly, and I glance up to find a handsome man wearing a kind smile holding out a cup to me.

  “Hello,” I say.

  “It’s a shame for a beautiful woman to be sitting alone. I was hoping to buy you a cup of coffee and join you.” He has a strong Grecian accent, but his English is perfect.

  “That’s very nice of you, but I’m working on a few things, so I’m not much company.” I point to my iPad in explanation.

  “It’s a shame to work on such a beautiful night.” He gestures to the window, and I see night falling, with the sun setting on the horizon. It is a beautiful scene, and I decide it won’t hurt to have a little company tonight.

  It’s harmless to talk to a local while eating my salad. And besides, human interaction sounds nice.

  “You’re right.” I close my iPad and motion to the other chair. “Please sit.”

  He does, sliding the cup my way.

  I take it politely and smile.

  “You’re American?” he asks, sitting back casually and crossing his legs.

  I notice immediately how nicely dressed he is, the black suit with stark white shirt, tieless and relaxed. Memories of Nick walking into the gallery after the Indy game in a similar outfit assault me. The day reruns through my head, and I have to breathe deeply to stop my heart from racing.

  “Yes, I’m American,” I manage to answer.

  “Wh
ere are my manners?” He leans over the table, offering his hand. “I’m Nicolas.”

  At the mention of his name, a squeaky cough escapes, and his eyes drop to my mouth.

  “I-I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, trying to gain my composure and lifting my hand. “I’m—”

  “Taken,” a harsh growl answers for me at the same time a large hand lands on Nicolas’.

  The voice sends a shockwave all the way to my toes. I jump back in my seat and snap my head to find Nick standing there with a murderous glare aimed at the man sitting in confusion across from me.

  “Nick,” barely comes out in a whisper.

  Both men look at me, but I only have eyes for the man standing at the edge of my table.

  There’s an uncomfortable silence as both men stare at me until I leap out of my seat and onto Nick. He stumbles before catching me, both arms circling my waist possessively.

  “Are you really here?” I mumble into his neck.

  “I’m here, Sweet Peach.”

  I lean back and grab his face, locking eyes with him. “How?”

  “It’s called an airplane.” He flashes a cocky grin.

  “But how’d you find me?” I clarify.

  “I’ve kept tabs on you since you landed in Athens. Your favorite places to shop, eat, visit, all of them; I’ve even been watching these stupid fucking shows in tandem with you and Roy.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “On that part, I wish I was. But I’ll admit that Chrisley guy is growing on me.”

  “Oh my God.” I clutch him tighter, bringing his mouth to mine. Then I proceed to kiss all over his face. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Baby, I’m not opposed to PDA, but I think people may be actually filming this.”

  I twist to find all eyes in the café are on us, a few phones zoned our way. Nicolas is no longer at the table, but instead is leaning against the front door with a small smile. He waves then leaves.

  “Does this mean you don’t hate me for leaving? You’re not mad at me anymore?” I focus back on Nick.

  “Never.”

  “Why haven’t you called? God, Nick, I’ve been so ashamed of not telling you my change of plans, and so confused about the state of our relationship.”