I know it’s better this way. It’s simpler.
It’s over.
35
Max
It takes me three weeks to work up the courage to hand in my notice to my father. Quitting the family business is not something I thought I’d ever do, and by the look on my dad’s face, he never thought I’d do it either.
But I have to do it.
Once Naomi left, what else was there to do? It’s like she opened my eyes to what I was putting up with, to the mental games that my parents play. She made me realize how crazy this life really is. Why would I keep working for the company that tried to control my life like that?
I finally grow a pair. I’m a grown man, for Christ’s sake. I can find a job on my own. If my parents cut me out of their will, then they cut me out. It’s not worth living my entire life on a short leash just to get a payout.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know Naomi would be proud of me. She hasn’t spoken to me since the day at her apartment, but the thought of her being happy for me gives me the courage to quit. Maybe I just tell myself that to make myself feel better, but it still helps me go through with the resignation.
My father’s face is grim when I give him my notice. He takes the envelope from me, staring at it for a few minutes. He purses his lips and shakes his head.
“Is this because of the girl?”
“No. Well, maybe. I just need to be my own man, Dad. I thought you’d understand that.”
He nods slowly. “There will always be a place for you here,” he says as he shakes my hand. My chest feels tight, and a lump forms in my throat. I nod.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“What are you going to do?”
I sigh. “I’m not sure yet. I want to pursue a career in football. If I’m not playing, I can still coach. I’ve got lots of contacts from college.”
My dad extends his hand toward me. “I’m proud of you, son,” he says. He tightens his grip on my hand and pulls me toward him, wrapping me in an unexpected hug. “You remind me of myself when I was your age.”
“Just wait to see how I turn out before you say you’re proud,” I laugh. He grins at me, and the tightness in my chest eases.
A couple weeks later, when I walk out of the building on my last day, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I know it was the right decision. And if I ever see Naomi again, I’ll thank her for giving me the courage to do it.
“So I heard you’re all finished up at daddy’s company!” Graham asks as I walk into Joel’s living room. It’s Sunday, and me and the boys are all here to hang out and watch the games.
I fall onto the couch, grabbing the beer that Connor hands me. “Yep. Last day was Friday.”
Joel whistles. “He’s finally cutting the apron strings, boys,” he laughs. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“What are you going to do?” Graham asks. He tosses me a bag of chips and turns down the volume on the TV.
I shrug. “Been talking to my old college football coach. He said he might be able to get me on as an assistant coach for next season. Spring training starts in a couple months, so the timing would be good.”
“Nice,” Connor says, nodding. “Sounds like a good gig.”
“Yeah, it will be. I walked into the athletics building at college last week to talk to him and it was like coming home. I spent so many hours in that building. It’ll be nice to be around football again,” I say. “I missed it.”
“If your knee is better, you should join our rec team,” Connor says. “You won’t have that excuse anymore.”
I grin. “It’s not quite there yet, but maybe in the fall.” I haven’t found a physical therapist since Naomi, and progress on my knee has stalled. Even doing the exercises she showed me reminds me of her, and most days I avoid doing them.
None of my friends mention Naomi, which I’m grateful for. They haven’t mentioned her since the weekend after it ended between her and I. The boys took me out for the weekend and got me completely wasted, and then helped to nurse my sorry, hungover self back to health with Gatorade and greasy breakfasts.
It seems like it all happened a lifetime ago, even though it’s only been a few weeks. My heart was just as shattered as my knee. It’s recovering slowly, but it’s recovering.
Eventually, the rawness of the whole ordeal fades. My heart still skips a beat when I see a redhead in the street, or at the bar, or at the grocery store, but it doesn’t hammer against my ribs quite so hard as it used to. I make it through the holidays without too many reminders of Naomi. My parents make a few comments that sting, but I try to ignore them.
I end up telling my dad that the private investigator was wrong about Naomi, and the acquisition of Jerry’s company still goes through. I don’t tell them my engagement was fake, only that we broke up because of the whole misunderstanding.
I don’t know why I don’t tell them the full truth. Maybe it seems wrong to reduce my time with Naomi to just a business arrangement. Even after everything, I don’t want them to think that it was all fake.
Or maybe, it’s me that doesn’t want to think that. I want to believe that what we had was real. I want to believe that when she accidentally told me she loved me, it meant something.
I end up getting the job as an assistant coach at my old college, and come spring, we start the pre-season training in full force. By the beginning of March, I’m back on the gridiron, running practices and feeling the familiar buzz of energy that comes with sports and competition.
Coach Carter pats me on the shoulder after one of the first practices, grinning.
“Good to have you back,” he says.
I nod. “It feels good to be here. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
“You were a good player, and you’ll be a good coach,” he says. He looks me in the eye as a lump forms in my throat. We nod to each other, then he walks toward the locker rooms with the team.
I look around the stadium, up at the stands that will soon be full of fans, and I breathe in the crisp spring air. It feels good to be back. It feels good to be free of my parents, to be doing something for me. Who knows, maybe in a couple years I’ll be a head coach. For the first time in a long time, the future is exciting.
I look up and down the field and let out a sigh before turning toward the locker rooms.
It’s exciting to be here and it feels good to finally be my own man, but I know it would feel a lot better if I had someone to share it with. I pick up a water bottle that one of the players dropped, shaking my head to clear those thoughts.
I can’t think like that. I have to keep moving forward.
36
Naomi
“Jackie and I were going through a rough patch,” Jerry explains. “I wanted a career, and she wanted the opposite.”
He sighs. I stab my fork into a piece of chicken, watching him.
“Her father pulled me aside one evening. I think he could tell that we were both unhappy. He gave me this long speech about relationships being about more than just love. He told me that our priorities needed to be in line, and that I wasn’t doing anyone any favors by hanging around.”
“Grandpa said that?”
Jerry nods, chuckling bitterly.
“Yeah. I broke up with your mother the week after that conversation. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I could tell that I broke her heart. I broke my own heart.”
“And she never told you about me?”
He shakes his head, spinning his fork in his plate of pasta. A waiter glances at our table, and a couple at the table next to us bursts out laughing.
I feel like I’m in a bubble. It’s like the world is going on around me and I’m not part of it, I’m just watching it happen. It’s surreal being here, with Jerry, hearing these things.
“I never heard from Jackie after that. I moved to New York, and then down to Atlanta and over to Europe. I tried calling her, but she changed her number. Then, I guess I just stopped trying.”
“That’s understandable, I guess.”
Jerry sighs.
“I think she was trying to protect you. Or maybe trying to protect herself. When I broke up with her, I betrayed her trust. I told her I didn’t want a family, I just wanted a career.”
“So that’s why she never told you she was pregnant?”
“I guess so.” His forehead creases, and his dark brown eyes fill with pain. He looks at me, taking a deep breath. “I wish she’d told me.”
“Look, Jerry,” I say. “Don’t torture yourself about it. It was a long time ago, and by the sounds of it, you didn’t have much choice.”
“I could have tried harder to speak to her.”
“Why would you? You thought you were broken up and that was that.”
It’s strange to be comforting my own father about the one thing that plagued me my whole life. His absence was like a splinter under my skin that I just couldn’t get out. It just festered as the years went on, the pain of his leaving getting worse and worse. And now that he’s here, I’m the one trying to make him feel better.
“I’m sorry, Naomi. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I missed so much.”
I want to change the subject. I glance at his hand and note the absence of a ring.
“You never married?”
Jerry chuckles bitterly. “I was married three times.”
“Oh.”
“I always found some way to fuck it up—sorry. Screw it up.”
“You can swear,” I grin. “I’m a big girl.”
He grins. “I don’t know how to act right now. This is very weird for me.”
“Don’t worry, it’s weird for me too.”
His eyes lighten, and a smile breaks over his face. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re a lot like her.”
“Like my mom?”
“Mm,” he nods. “She was the love of my life.”
His words are like a spear through my heart. Jerry’s eyes mist, and his hand trembles as he reaches for his glass of water. He takes a sip, dabbing his lips with his napkin and clearing his throat.
“Food is good,” he says, nodding to his plate. “Good choice.”
“Yeah,” I say, looking around and trying to ignore the emotion choking my throat. “I found this place a couple years ago. My girlfriends and I come here for birthdays and stuff.”
When he drops me off back home, my mother walks him back downstairs and I sink down on the couch.
That was hard.
Meeting him, spending time with him, hearing his side of the story—it’s hard to take it all in. My entire life, it was one big question mark. And now, he seems so… human. He’s not a monster, or a drug-addicted convict, or an abusive maniac. He’s pretty normal.
A thin tendril of anger curls in my heart when I think about my mother. Why did she never tell him about me? Did she think she was protecting me?
I hear her labored footsteps coming up the stairs before the apartment door opens. Her eyes are shining and her cheeks are rosy. She hums to herself as she takes her shoes off, smiling at me as she brushes past toward the kitchen. I hear the kettle go on, and I take a deep breath.
She was protecting herself.
I think of Jerry’s face when he told me she was the love of his life, and how my mom reacted when he first showed up at my apartment. I think of the spring in her step since he’s been around, and how that compares with the darkness that clouded over her whenever I’d mention him when I was a kid.
Maybe he was the love of her life, too. And by cutting herself off completely, she thought she was protecting herself, and maybe me, from the pain of the heartbreak.
She denied me a relationship with my father, though. For decades.
I look over at her, and then sink down on the couch and close my eyes. I see Max’s face in my mind’s eye. He’s combing his fingers through his hair, smiling that irresistible smile at me. My heart thumps as I imagine his voice, his smile, his touch.
A second later, my heart is breaking all over again. My mother clears her throat and I open my eyes to see her drop a cup of tea in front of me. I smile in thanks, and then I understand.
This is what she was protecting herself from. The heartbreak—the searing pain that cuts through my body every time I think of him. The feeling that the world is just a little bit duller, a little bit less colorful and less vibrant when he’s not around.
Does it last forever?
I pick up the steaming mug of tea and take a sip. Mom sits down in the recliner, staring out the window and smiling to herself. She has her hands clasped over her heart and a smile floating on her lips.
I think my mom was wrong to cut Jerry out of her life. For the millionth time, I wonder if I made a mistake with Max, too.
37
Max
Before I know it, it’s been three months since I quit my job and almost four months since I’ve seen Naomi.
“Westbrook!” Coach Carter says as I walk into the football wing of the athletic building. It still smells the way it did when I was a player—like sweat, cleaning supplies and dedication. Coach stands up and pokes his head out of his office. “Get in here, I want you to meet someone.”
I drop my bag full of clipboards, game notes, athletic tape, and bits and pieces that I carry around with me for practice, and I follow him into his office.
As soon as I see that red hair pulled back in a high pony tail, I know it’s her. I pause in the doorway. My stomach drops and my heart starts racing. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in the headlights, because Coach frowns. He waves me in impatiently.
“Come on, Westbrook. This is our new full-time physio company—PhysioFIT. Miss Rose here is the head physio over there. We were just developing a plan for the season. I was thinking you could be in charge of it.”
He nods to me, waving me toward the chair. I gulp.
Naomi turns to see me and her eyes widen. She wipes her hands on her thighs and takes a deep breath before standing up.
“Max,” she says. “Good to see you again.”
“You two know each other?”
“I was Max’s physical therapist for a while,” she says quickly, smiling at Coach. “How’s the knee?”
“It’s going,” I reply. I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s breathtaking. She’s more beautiful than I remembered. I thought her face had been burned into my mind’s eye forever, but my memory hadn’t done her justice. She extends her hand, looking me square in the eye as she pumps my arm up and down.
“Good to see you again.”
She sits back down, turning away from me and pointing back to a stack of papers. “We’re proposing to have full-time junior physios on site for every game and every practice,” she says to no one in particular. “I, or another senior physio will be here for the games as well.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Coach says. He glances at his watch and leans back in his chair to adjust his cargo pants down below his stomach. He’s built like a tank, with the thick neck and meaty hands that betray a long career as a football player. He nods to Naomi. “I’ll let you discuss the details with Westbrook here. I’ve got a few things to see to before practice. Glad to have you on board.”
He extends his huge hand, engulfing Naomi’s delicate one as they shake. She smiles at him and watches him walk out before finally lifting her pretty green eyes up to me.
“Hey,” she says. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Neither was I.”
“You… you’re working here now?”
I clear my throat, nodding. “Quit my parents’ company right after…” I wave my hand between us. I can feel a blush creeping up my cheeks and I hate it. As usual, Naomi’s got me feeling off-balance.
A smile twitches at the corners of her lips, and the edges of her eyes crinkle. She dips her chin down, looking up at me through her pretty, long lashes. “I’m happy for you. Spreading your wings.”
“Finally flew the coop,” I grin.
“Like a big boy,
” she laughs, and an arrow pierces my heart.
She takes a step toward me and my heart goes wild. When she puts her hand on my forearm, the touch sends my whole body reeling. She looks up at me, taking a deep breath. “I’m proud of you,” she says. “The way your parents treated you wasn’t right.”
I nod. “How are things with your mom… and your dad?”
“They’re good. Mom’s in remission, and I’ve been keeping in contact with Jerry.”
She looks like she’s going to say something, but she closes her mouth and sighs. An awkward moment passes. I point my thumb over my shoulder.
“You want to grab a bite to eat? We can bring this paperwork and go over the work stuff, and then I can write it off as a business expense.”
She laughs and my heart clenches again. “How could I resist?”
Warmth floods through me, and I nod my head out the door. “I need to be back in an hour for practice, but I know a little cafe nearby that has great sandwiches.”
“Sounds perfect.”
We fall into step beside each other. She holds her papers close to her chest and I wonder if it’s to resist holding my hand. I feel her eyes on me and I glance over just in time to see her looking away.
As much as I’ve tried to convince myself that it was for the best to go our separate ways, I can’t deny how good it feels to be next to her.
38
Naomi
By the time our sandwiches arrive at the table, I’ve explained the entire business plan for the physical therapy partnership. Maybe I’m talking faster than usual because of the nerves, or maybe this coffee is just extra strong. My hands are shaking, though, so I keep them folded on the table.
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 16