Page 108 of Proposal Play
Like I need the reminder of everything that could go wrong. “I know that.”
“But you play anyway. You play a dangerous game for a living. You get in a car. You get on a plane. You fuckingbreathe. Of course you might not stay in love. But why are you letting that stop you?”
Because we’re friends. Great friends. I’m closer to Maeve than I am her brother. She’s my best friend more than he is, and I do not want to lose her. Not after nearly losing my dad. And not after all the losses she’s endured. After the hurt she’s been through. After all the people who are gone. “It might not work out,” I say. Even though I’m thinkingit probably won’t.
Miles stares blankly at me. “And?”
I shove a hand through my hair roughly, breathing out hard, my shoulders tensing. “I don’t want to risk that.”
He nods a few times, then shrugs. “I get it. You’re a pessimist,” he says. “But this thing between you two—it’s doable. It’s not like she’s the coach’s daughter.”
I blink, taken aback. “Wait, do you have a thing for Leighton?”
He wags his finger. “We were talking about you.”
“And yet, you brought up Leighton.” Come to think of it, didn’t he give her a ride home after a community outreach event we all did last fall for The Garden Society? “You know…youdoseem to gravitate to her at events.”
He scoffs. “We hardly have any events.”
“And that’s not a denial.”
He stares menacingly at me. Fine, fine, the dude does give good glower, I’ll grant him that.
“Photo ops,” I correct, thinking he’ll admit it that way.
“We’re talking aboutyounow.” Miles tips his chin my way, making it clear that’s all he’s saying. His dark eyes brook no argument. “It’s my turn to give you a hard time, Mister Pessimist.”
“I’m a realist,” I counter.
“Then be realistic for yourself, man. Yes, it’s risky.Yeah, it might not work out. But do it anyway—ask her to stay for longer. You’re clearly not getting divorced any time soon. Look around. You hung up a million pictures of her.”
It’s the bare truth, and I can’t even pretend it was just for the camera crew earlier today. Fact is—I took those pictures. I like those pictures. And asking her to stay isn’t the same as risking pouring out the truth of my heart to her. I can do the first without doing the second.
“Okay,” I say, letting out a decisive breath. “I’ll do it.”
“Sooner rather than later,” he says, pointing his cue my way.
We start the next round. With each shot, I feel looser, freer. I’ll find an opportunity and I’ll seize it. We make a game plan for our upcoming game against the Los Angeles Supernovas in two more weeks, especially how to score on his brother Tyler, who plays for them while raising two kids on his own. Younger than Miles by a few years, Tyler’s carved out his own solid career for our rivals.
We finish our round, with Miles taking all my money and making a show of pocketing it. “Always a pleasure cleaning you out.”
“I bet.”
I walk him to the door, opening it just as Maeve’s coming up the steps, looking like she’s got something on her mind.
“Hey, Maeve,” Miles says with a grin. “Be nice to Asher if he asks you something.”
“Asshole,” I mutter to him.
He flashes me a grin, holding his arms out wide. “Like you’d expect anything less?”
“Did he say I was the mean one? Because he is, I swear,” Maeve asks, playfully.
Miles just waves goodbye, then trots down the steps.
Maeve comes inside, but the easy zing-zing-zing I felt with Miles is erased the second the door shuts. Her expression is serious, her brow furrowed. Something must have come up with Angelina, and the weight of whatever she’s thinking seems to hang between us. Maybe this isn’t the moment to ask.
“What’s going on?” I ask.