Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Wow. Man. That’s intense.”
“I’m sorry I kept it a secret. I just didn’t see any other way.”
He scoffs. “Do not apologize. I one hundred percent understand why.”
I breathe, and it feels like the biggest breath I’ve taken in ages. Nate is a good friend. Of course, he understands. “Thanks.”
“You miss him?”
I just shrug. It’s answer enough.
“Are you going to bid on him tonight?”
I snap my head back and forth. “God, no. But you can’t either.”
He chuckles. “You already told me that. I get it. You’re marking your man.”
I wish I could slap an off-the-market sign on Beck. “Someone’s gonna bid on him,” I grumble.
“You’re cute when you’re jelly,” Nate says.
“Thanks. Appreciate that,” I say, then I let this whole moment with Nate sink in. He didn’t judge me. He’s on my side. We stop on the street corner, the mist of a San Francisco evening wrapping around us as cars and trolleys crank by. “Thank you. For not hating me for what I did.”
He shakes his head, scoffing. “I’m not a hater. And hey, you love who you love,” he says easily.
I sigh. “Is it that obvious?”
“That you love him?”
I gulp and nod.
Nate spreads his hands wide like he’s lighting up a marquee. “Like a motherfucking billboard.”
On that melancholy note, we turn around, but when we reach the Luxe, I realize I still don’t know why Nate showed up tonight. “Why did you say you were here?”
He smiles like a devil. “I didn’t say.”
I wiggle my fingers, determined to find out. “’Fess up.”
“I figured you could use the moral support,” he says, then offers a warm grin.
Ah, hell. I have great friends. “For that, sir, you get ten points in our tally.”
He pumps a fist. “Yes! I remain in the lead.”
Once we reach the ballroom, Nate darts off to the bar since I have to mingle with sponsors. I head inside, where innocuous pop music plays overhead, and servers in black ties circulate with appetizers and champagne. Zena’s in the center of the ballroom, dressed in a black, sequined number and a feather boa. She chats with Nadia, and they clink champagne flutes. Wilder holds court at a high table. Dressed in a black tux, he’s deep in an intense conversation with a bearded man in black glasses. Something about the man looks familiar. I’m not positive, but I think he’s a minority owner of a baseball team.
I tick off the cocktail hour, doing my thing, smiling, and making small talk. Nadia finds me and makes intros to various corporate sponsors and charitable donors. The whole time I keep my eyes peeled for Beck, but I don’t catch sight of him anywhere.
No big deal.
Maybe Beck’s chatting with Ding and Dine. Or with Renegades-only sponsors. Maybe Wilder corralled him.
It’s not my job to look out for Beck anymore. Too bad, since I loved looking out for him. But life goes on.
When the cocktail hour winds down, Reese weaves through the glittery room, coming to collect me. Maybe I can ask her if Beck’s here. But she’s smart, like Nate. She’d add up the clues.
Besides, what’s the point? He’s probably here and avoiding me. He’s damn good at that.
“Let’s head over to the hotel theater. Jillian is eager to review the lineup quickly,” Reese says, ushering me backstage.
Jillian smiles professionally when I join the crowd of big men in tailored suits.
“Okay, sharp-dressed men!” Jillian’s cheery voice rings loud and bright. “I want you all sitting in the front two rows of the theater during the Ultimate Player Auction, so the audience gets to be near their fave athletes the whole time. Then, when your name is called, you’ll come up from the audience. That means while you’re seated, no Instagramming, no scrolling, no texting. Be present with the auction for a couple of hours, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carter says with a salute, and the rest of us nod our understanding.
“Thank you. I just want to run down the order one more time.”
She whizzes through the list of twenty-five, stopping after nine to point at Carter. “Beck’s not here, so we bumped you to tenth instead of eleventh,” she says to the Renegades receiver.
Carter nods. “Right. Yup. He told me that.”
My head spins around. What the hell? Beck told Carter he’d be a no-show and didn’t tell me? I stew on this nugget for a few minutes until I’m this close to marching over to Carter and demanding he tell me what the hell happened.
But then, I’ve made assumptions about Beck in the past. I thought he didn’t show up for our second date because he was ghosting me. I was dead wrong.
Beck’s not an asshole. He’s a great guy with a big heart. If he decided not to show, he has a reason.
Oh, shit.
My pulse roars.
What if he’s having a panic attack? I need to reach out. See if he’s okay. Jillian ferries us toward the theater. I grab my phone right as she slinks over to my side.