by West, Harper
That wasn't the whole truth, of course, but I couldn't tell her the whole thing. She'd immediately shoot it down, and then I'd feel like a dick for pursuing it.
"You don't have to send me shit, Kevin," she said. "I've told you it's fine. I'm over it. I've moved on with my life, and you obviously have, so there's no need to dwell on it. I can be a professional about this if you can."
It sounded like she wanted nothing more than a truce, but that wasn't good enough for me. I missed the way we'd been so close that we could practically read each other's minds back in college, and I knew I wasn't going to be satisfied with professional distance for the next however long and then never seeing her again.
I wanted more than that from her, but I didn't know what she wanted.
She was still the girl I'd been so into back in college, but she'd gotten more beautiful, more headstrong, and it was so damned alluring to me.
"I'm always professional," I said with a grin. "You don't need to worry."
Chapter 8
Caro
The next morning, it was very apparent that I did, in fact, need to worry.
For multiple reasons, which was even worse than I had imagined. I knew when Kevin put his mind to something, he went through with it, and our conversation from the night before had clearly not been enough to deter him from doing stupid things.
The first thing was an alert on my phone that 'Baseball superstar Kevin Smith is an alcoholic', complete with a grainy phone picture of Kevin at a bar, leaning over it and talking to a pretty blonde woman.
It wasn't anything scandalous, considering he didn't even have a drink in front of him in the picture, but the bartender was smiling in a way that made it clear someone was flirting, and the fact that it was in a bar was damning enough.
Luckily for everyone involved, it was hard to see if it was actually Kevin in the picture. It was taken at an angle where shadow fell over his face, making his skin seem darker than it was, and there wasn't much else to identify him positively.
So it could have been anyone. But I was pretty sure it was him. The idiot.
The second thing was, as soon as I was up and showered, someone was knocking on my door.
I went to answer it, bewildered at the notion that someone would be knocking before eight in the morning, but it was a delivery person.
"For you, ma'am," he said, and handed me a plastic bag before hurrying away.
I stood there for a second, staring after him because what the hell?
When I finally had the presence of mind to close the door and open the bag, I was torn between being touched and immediately annoyed.
Inside was a to go cup of coffee, still hot, and a box of pastries from the upscale bakery on the upper West side that I loved but hardly ever went to because it was expensive.
In the box was an assortment of things, from the bear claws I couldn't get enough of, to a smaller box that held delicate macarons, in a variety of bright colors and flavors.
Pastries were my one weakness, and I usually avoided them because I'd easily gain more weight than I wanted to if I let myself have them every time I craved them, but they smelled so sugary and good, and my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten yet.
There was no question who had sent them, and I rubbed my forehead.
The smart thing to do would be to throw them in the trash and send Kevin a picture of it, telling him in no uncertain terms that I didn't want his gifts.
But that would be wasteful.
Or something.
I lifted out a bear claw and the delicate box of macarons, saving those for myself. I worked hard, and I deserved treats every now and then. The others I put back in the bag and took them with me to work.
At least my coworkers would be able to enjoy them.
I didn't give Kevin the benefit of a response.
It wasn't exactly the friendliest option, but I didn't trust him. I knew there was something else he wanted or he was just trying to butter me up for further rule breaking.
A few days later was the first scheduled interview.
It was with a small morning show, nothing too major, just enough to get the word out that he was addressing the concerns. Conveniently, images of him working at a shelter over the weekend had been 'leaked' the day before, so it would give the hosts something to talk about.
They were two energetic women, both blonde and peppy, and I stood backstage while Kevin was in hair and makeup, going over the notes I'd put together.
We'd barely talked since that night on the phone, and he seemed to be accepting my silence, though he came out of his dressing room, grinning broadly.
"I love being on TV," he said.
"I've noticed," I replied dryly. "You know what you're supposed to say here, right?"
He nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Mother. You and Kath have drilled it into my head a hundred thousand times. I won't embarrass you."
"You should be more worried about embarrassing yourself," I pointed out.
And then it was time to go live.
Casey and Tiffany sat in their chairs, laughing at some joke that wasn't even remotely funny when they came back from commercial break.
"And now we're so pleased to welcome our special guest, third baseman for the New York Empires, Kevin Porter!"
The studio audience erupted into applause, and it was clear that even if some of them had issues with his behavior, his talent in the sport was enough to keep fans happy with him for the moment.
Kevin walked out, waving to the crowd, grinning brightly and flashing white teeth and dimples. Casey and Tiffany looked like they were ready to swoon.
He hugged them both, but refrained from kissing them on the cheek, which was a nice touch. Once he was settled in his seat across from them, they launched in.
"It's so great to have you here, Kevin," Tiffany said. "For those of us who have followed your career, getting to sit down with you is an honor."
He grinned broadly. "Thank you. I've always given my all for the team and my fans, and I'm always happy to do it."
The audience clapped again.
Once they had settled down, Casey launched in, rattling off a list of Kevin's achievements and accolades, pointing out how he was one of the youngest players to ever have so many.
The baseball talk was easy, and Kevin was relaxed and in his element, but we both knew it was going to take a turn soon enough.
"Now," Tiffany said after coming back from another commercial break. "We're all familiar with how good you are at baseball, but it seems like things might be rocky in other aspects of your life."
On the little screen behind them, a picture of the cover of the magazine that had started this whole mess popped up. Christine Williams' smiling face was right there, and I was going to be so happy when I never had to see it again.
"Do you have anything to say about what Ms. Williams had to say about you?" Tiffany asked.
Kevin's jaw clenched for a second, but he covered it with a smile. "Christine and I didn't part on the best of terms," he said. "I'm sure anyone who's been divorced knows what I'm talking about."
There was a ripple of laughter from the audience, and Casey and Tiffany giggled as well.
"True. But her accusations were pretty harsh," Casey jumped in. "Anything to say about that?"
That was the part we'd gone over time and time again. His job wasn't to discredit Christine or call her a liar. It was to bring attention to him being reformed.
"I can definitely say I've made some mistakes in my life," he answered, and I nodded along. "When you're in the public eye, the opportunity for partying and other activities is always right there, and it's hard to turn it down sometimes. I've gotten caught up in it more times than I should, for sure. But what I'd really like to say is that I'm sorry to my fans. I know they expect better of me, and I don't want them to feel like I've let them down."
The audience was right there, erupting into cheers for him, and Kevin smiled and waved, and for a moment he
looked genuinely touched.
"I'm sure your supporters know you're more than your mistakes," Casey said, smiling. "And it's clear you really care about the people who support you."
The picture of the magazine cover was replaced by pictures of Kevin's philanthropic work over the years. Pictures of him doing Habitat for Humanity with his teammates, the team serving at a soup kitchen, the more recent pictures of him reading to kids at a shelter and then helping change a lightbulb in the front room.
Those were supposed to be 'candid', but we'd staged them all, of course.
And the audience was loving it. They oohed and ahhed at the pictures, and I patted myself on the back for a job well done.
The rest of the interview went off without a hitch, and by the time they were signing off, it was clear that the plan had worked.
News and quotes from the interview would get spread around quickly, and it would work to combat the negative press.
We were taking steps in the right direction.
Sometime that afternoon an article was going to appear with the rest of the pictures from Kevin's trip to the shelter, all of them taken “without his knowledge” except for a few posed shots with him and the kids playing baseball outside even though it was cold outside.
It was all very strategic, and I was proud of myself for coming up with it. I was good at my job, and now Kevin was going to see that.
I didn't know why that part mattered, really. I knew I was good at my job. I had plenty of successful plans and campaigns that had worked out well. It didn't matter if Kevin realized I was good or not, but there was a part of me that wanted the validation.
We'd both been devoted to our goals, and his success was much more in everyone's face than mine.
I was still scrambling for recognition most of the time.
When he was finally released from shaking hands and signing autographs, he found his way over to me.
I had a cup of truly terrible coffee in my hand, and I used it as an excuse to avoid looking at him.
"You're a genius," he said. "I didn't even know they were going to have those pictures from the shelter."
"I know," I replied, and the answer went for both parts of his statement. "Your surprise needed to be real. And it was, so it worked. People will buzz about that for a while, and then we'll move onto the next thing. If you can stay out of the bar for longer than a few days, we might just pull this off."
"I said I was sorry about that," he said, pouting a little. "I didn't think it was going to be that big a deal."
"You never do," I shot back. "Anyway, we're making progress. Just stay out of trouble, and it should be fine."
I turned to leave. We'd done what we came to do for the day, and there wasn't any other reason to hang around.
But Kevin caught my wrist, keeping me from pulling away.
"What?" I asked, turning back to look at him.
"Let's do something tonight," he said.
I frowned. "What?"
"I know you know more words than that," he teased. "Let's do something. Dinner, drinks, dancing. Whatever. To celebrate, you know?"
"It's too early to celebrate. You could still fuck this up completely."
"Your faith in me is astounding. You know what I mean. Let me take you out. As a thank you for your hard work."
I narrowed my eyes at him, finally shaking him off my wrist so I could fold my arms. "You already sent me flowers and coffee. And pastries. You don't have to keep thanking me."
"Yes, I do," he said. "You're saving my career. You know how much it means to me."
"Oh, I definitely know how much your career means to you," I said, and even though I was trying to keep the bitterness out of my tone, it was hard to do.
He could hear it, though. I could tell from the way he frowned as he looked at me. "Your career meant just as much to you. Don't try to pretend like it didn't."
I opened my mouth to tell him the thing I'd been holding back since the moment he'd broken up with me six years ago, but then closed it, shaking my head. "I'm not pretending anything."
For a moment, he just stood there, looking at me, and then he shook himself and that smile was back. "Okay, then. So...dinner?"
He was so damned persistent, and I knew the smart thing to do was to tell him no. That I didn't have any interest in being around him outside of the time we had to spend together for me to do my job.
But he was just as suave and charming as ever, and the thought of being taken out in appreciation of the work I was doing was tempting. No one had ever done that before, and usually when clients sent gifts to the office after the fact, my boss commandeered them, so I never saw any of it.
"You know what?" I said, not quite believing what I was about to agree to. "Fine. Sure. Dinner."
Kevin's eyes lit up, and his smile only grew. He'd probably been sure I was going to say no.
"Great," he said. "I can pick you up."
I shook my head. I really didn't want him coming to my place and trying to talk his way in or poke around or whatever. "No, that's fine. Just text me the details and I'll meet you there."
The firm stare I leveled at him hopefully impressed the fact that if he argued I wouldn't come at all.
It clearly did the trick, and he nodded. "Sure. Seven?"
"Seven's fine."
"Probably the earliest you've left work in ages, right?" he teased me.
I rolled my eyes, but he was right. He didn't have to know that, though. "Goodbye, Kevin," I said, turning again to leave.
"See you tonight!" he called after me.
Chapter 9
Caro
By the time I was leaving work to go home and take a quick shower and change, I couldn't quite believe I'd actually said yes to having dinner with Kevin.
Aside from meetings in coffee shops and the one at the gym, we hadn't really spent much time together. Definitely not somewhere that could be considered a date.
All at once I was thrown into a memory of our very first date, a late-night pancake dinner at IHOP of all places, during finals week sophomore year.
It wasn't glamorous at all, but it had ended with him kissing me in his car, and me thinking about him every time I ate pancakes for the next two years, so clearly it had worked out alright.
He'd come a long way from IHOP, though, and I'd looked up the address he sent me to check the place out earlier.
It was one of those high-class Japanese fusion places that did sushi and noodle bowls and ramen for more than most people were willing to pay, but Kevin had insisted it was on him.
Of course the annoying thing was I'd wanted to go there for years but couldn't justify the price.
Either way, I deserved to be treated to some nice food for how much work I was putting in, so I brushed my hair out, leaving it down, falling in a thick, black curtain almost all the way down to my waist.
I put on a nice sweater dress that I hadn't had reason to wear in years. It was a dark green color that brought out my eyes, not low cut or tight enough to be considered scandalous or flirty at all, but it hugged my figure nicely, showing off the curves of my chest and hips.
Low heels completed the look, and I left my work-appropriate makeup in place before heading out. I just wanted to look nice for the restaurant. I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
Of course there was a wait at the door, but when I dropped Kevin's name, I was whisked inside immediately and taken to a private booth in the back where Kevin was already sitting.
And fuck, it was so unfair of him to look that good when he was just casually sitting in a restaurant drinking sake. His hair was artfully tousled, and he was dressed in a black jacket and jeans with a white shirt underneath the jacket, but he looked effortlessly good even in just that.
When the hostess brought me over to the table, Kevin's eyes traced over me, and I fought the urge to blush. It wasn't that serious. He looked at me all the time, and I definitely didn't care if he thought I looked nice or not.
I made mys
elf comfortable in the booth, taking off my jacket and putting it to the side. "Drinking?" I asked, arching an eyebrow and glancing at his sake cup.
"It's sake," he said. "It's traditional. I'm not going to have much. Just because I'm reformed or whatever now doesn't mean I can't have a drink with dinner."
"I think that's exactly what it's supposed to mean," I pointed out, but I wasn't about to get into it with him.
“You look beautiful,” he said, changing the subject. “That’s a very good color on you.”
“Thank you,” I replied simply, going for the menu so I had something else to do other than look at him and the way he was half slouched in the booth.
Of course, it wasn't that easy. It never had been. He was the kind of person who managed to draw attention everywhere he went. He had a kind of presence about him that was impossible to ignore, no matter how much I wanted to.
Every few seconds I caught myself glancing up at him, and he would smile, not even paying attention to his own menu, just looking at me.
I felt that prickly anger under my skin, and I had to let out a deep breath.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that I was the only one still affected by what had happened between us. Clearly he had well and truly moved on, no longer holding any feelings for me whatsoever, but he wanted to play whatever game this was. Showing his 'appreciation' and forcing me to be around him.
The very unhelpful voice in the back of my head reminded me that I could have said no. I didn't have to come here and have dinner with him. And I didn't have to poke too hard to know why I'd agreed.
There was still...a confusing tangle of feelings in my chest about Kevin. Most of them were negative, but right at the heart of it all, I could remember why I'd loved him. Why I had been willing to fight to keep us together.
He was tenacious and bright. He was funny and clever. He was handsome and ambitious, and all of those things had been so attractive to me.
They still were.
But that ship had sailed, and sitting around remembering the past had never done anyone any good at all. Especially me. I needed to be looking forward.