by Jillian Dodd
“No, I think you should stay right where you are. Jadyn is a big girl, and she’s been dealing with Lori’s bitchiness for years.”
“You don’t really think Lori will cause trouble, do you?”
Phillip rolls his eyes at me. “It’s all she’s good at. When are you supposed to sign the papers?”
“Wednesday.”
“You just have to make it until then. Lie low.”
“Lying low with Jennifer sounds fun.”
“That’s the Danny I know and love.” Phillip punches me in the shoulder and grins. “It’s about freaking time.”
October 27th
Jennifer
I slowly wake up, coming out of a wonderful dream where I was with Danny on the field as he won the Super Bowl.
I half-expect the last few days to have been a nightmare, followed by a beautiful dream, but as I open my eyes, I see that I’m actually in Phillip and Jadyn’s guest room in Kansas City. That, yesterday, I did see Danny for the first time in years.
Some things about the day were better than I could have imagined. Others times, it felt awkward. We had a great time after the game, eating pizza, talking, drinking a few beers. I had high hopes that he might walk me home and kiss me, but he simply muttered something about it being late and getting his kids to bed.
I close my eyes and remember how easily he slid his hand into mine when he showed me to this room. How his eyes drank in my nakedness. How he touched the small of my back at the game. How I longed for him to sneak over and touch me everywhere.
But the reality is, he’s still married. I met his wife. Even though she left him and is newly engaged and happy, I got the feeling that seeing her husband touch someone else bothered her. And I can sympathize. I felt the same way when I saw the photos of Troy.
I don’t want to hurt her. But I do want another chance with Danny.
I roll over and check my texts, hoping to find one from him. But then I remember he deleted my number a long time ago.
There are, however, numerous others.
Troy: Please come home. I miss you. I need you.
Troy: Remember the song I wrote for you last time I was in rehab? I was just listening to it. I poured my heart into those lyrics, but they were all about me. About my struggles. My demons. I wanted you to understand. But I realized today that our relationship was too much about me. Going forward, it’s going to be all about you. I’m going to spend my life making this up to you. If you will just come home.
Troy: Eddy, please come home.
Me: I’m surprised to hear from you. I hoped you would be in rehab. I’m sorry, but I’m not coming home.
Troy: I don’t need rehab.
Troy: I need you.
Troy: I fell off the wagon. I’ve been mostly sober for years. It was just a mistake.
Troy: Please, baby, don’t hold it against me. I love you. Always have.
Me: Mostly is the key word. It wasn’t a one-time thing, and I can’t do it anymore. I wish you the best.
Troy: That sounds like good-bye. Forever. Please don’t say that. I can’t go on if you don’t love me.
I don’t reply.
My father always used to tell my mother that, if she didn’t take him back, he would kill himself. Last time Troy went to rehab, he said I was the only thing that kept him alive. That is a huge weight to put on someone’s shoulders. I told him so, but I didn’t think he understood. The song lyrics he wrote were all about his struggle. I was the light that shreds my soul.
When I first heard it, I was actually offended. I didn’t want to be a shredder of souls. But he explained it meant that my light shredded the darkness in his soul. He also seemed to think it was quite romantic. When he played the electronic mix version at clubs all over the world, he would dedicate it to me. And I always wondered if people thought that I’d shredded his soul rather than fixed it. If I was the cause of his darkness, not the light.
What I should have been thinking about was what being with Troy was doing to my soul. To my life.
I gaze into the facets of the beautiful little chandelier over the bed, determined to get my own sparkle back. I quickly get up, excited to start the day—and to see Danny again.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” Jadyn says, covering up her phone’s mouthpiece when I slide open the door separating the bedroom suite from her office. She’s fully dressed and ready for the day, talking on the phone while poring over a mess of papers sprawled across her worktable.
“Oh no,” I reply, looking down at my rumpled pajamas. “I was hungry. Thought I smelled breakfast.”
“Breakfast was about an hour ago, but we saved you some. It’s in the warming drawer under the oven. Go help yourself.”
As I pass her desk, I notice the papers are an array of old photos, news articles, drawings, and swatches.
“Yes, I’m looking at that now,” she says to whomever she’s talking to. She pins a photo of an elegantly dressed couple who look like they walked straight out of casting in a 1920s movie to a large, empty bulletin board next to the table.
I make my way down to get some food, and when I get back, she’s off the phone, and the board is half-full.
“What is all this?” I ask, picking up a swatch of a gorgeous teal paisley fabric.
“It’s the history of the hotel in LA. I do an inspiration board for all my projects. As part of the purchase agreement, Tripp got the approval to tear the hotel down. My job is to design a new building. One that would be state of the art but still pay homage to its past. It’s sort of what I’m known for. Mixing classic style and design with modern amenities. But I just had a call with the hotel manager and one of his valets who has been working there for over fifty years.” She slides her fingers across a photo, pulls the pin out, and hands it to me. “This is Robert Lee Andersen. Everyone at the hotel calls him RL. His first month on the job in 1964, both Elvis Presley and Ann-Margret stayed there just after the release of Viva Las Vegas. This hotel has hosted every major film and recording star since the ’20s, not to mention the big hitters in the industries.
“I know I’m going to lose the deal and a whole lot of money, but after talking to some of the staff and reading up on its history, I can’t be a part of demolishing it. I always tell my kids, when someone says mean things, they are just trying to tear you down to their level. That they shouldn’t allow it. That they should praise others, so they can rise higher together. That’s what this job would be—tearing it down to level the playing field.”
“I think you just summed up my life,” I say, starting to get teary-eyed.
“What do you mean? I’ve followed your career. You’re very successful.”
“I make a lot of money, and I love what I do, but I just realized that my relationship with Troy has been nothing but a long series of tearing down and rebuilding. His reputation has affected my career.” I glance at all the architectural drawings on the walls. “Did you design all of these buildings?”
“Yes. And every single one of them was a new build. Don’t get me wrong; our company does renovations, but usually, they are just to make the inside of a facility more up-to-date and fresh for its employees.”
“That was me. I’d swoop in, freshen up Troy’s life, and then wait for it to fall into disrepair again. What do you think I should do? Raze my life and start over or—”
“Restore your beauty,” she says. “From the inside out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think I’ve changed since we first met?” she asks.
“Well, sure. You’ve aged. Your style has changed. You’re a mom. A businesswoman—”
“You’re only taking into account my outward appearance and what I do, Jennifer. The person I am, my dreams, and the core of my being—those things have not changed. Neither has yours. You’ve just been covering them up on the outside. You’re like this building.” She points from a black-and-white photo of the hotel from when it was first built to one of it today. “See how the gor
geous arches got covered with awnings? Look at the tacky marquee for the bar that is hanging over an intricately carved door. And what about its European facade covered by a plastic banner proclaiming that you can stay in a room where a popular movie was filmed? We have to strip all that away and go back to what it was.”
“Are you saying, I have good bones?” I ask with a laugh.
“And a good heart,” she says, causing me to hug her.
“I don’t want it all torn down,” I cry out, emotions overtaking me. Even though I’m talking more about myself than the building.
I hold the hug for too long, but she doesn’t complain.
Instead, she says, “Why don’t you get yourself ready? Today is going to be a busy day.”
“What are we doing?”
“I was going to turn the job down today, but you inspired me to rethink things. If I simply turn the job down, Tripp will hire someone else to do it. If we’re going to save the building, I need to develop a renovation plan. While I do that, feel free to get caught up with some of your work things.”
“I suppose I should at least call my agent and PR team and see how much damage has been done. They have been leaving me messages, all of which I have ignored.”
“Perfect. You’re welcome to make your calls in private, but feel free to use my office here. When I get in the zone, noise doesn’t faze me. Danny will be at work all day, but Phillip is taking off early. The high school’s homecoming game is tonight, and the parade through downtown is this afternoon. We’re planning to meet for a late lunch, pick up the kids from school, and then go watch the parade. Danny doesn’t usually get home on Fridays until around five. I’m going to throw something in the slow cooker on the way out, and we’ll all eat dinner here before we go to the game. You’re welcome to join us for any or all of it. I know you need some downtime, so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything.”
“Thanks. That sounds really fun. I’d love to go.” Mostly because I want to see Danny again.
Danny
After practice, I get in my car and head home. I kept Jennifer out of my thoughts as much as possible today, but it was hard. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to do with her.
I wanted to text her last night after I got the kids in bed, but I deleted her number a long time ago.
When I get to my house, Melvin, the plumber, is loading up his truck.
I park, get out, and give him a wave. “How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, man,” he says, shaking my hand. “All that’s left on the punch list is the install of the shower door. You can still use it. Just wouldn’t turn on the steam. I’ll start on the kitchen as soon as you make the final choices. So, how’s the team doing? Gonna beat Denver this week? You know, I bet on you to win the big game this year. Odds at the beginning of the season were twenty to one. They’re down to six to one now. And those Vegas boys know what they’re doing; that’s for damn sure. So, I’m just saying, you keep playing good, my two grand will become forty.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Jadyn comes flying out of my house, obviously in a hurry.
“Great job, Melvin,” she says to him, causing the tops of his cheeks to turn pink.
“Thanks, ma’am,” he says.
After he heads out, Jadyn turns to me. “Phase one of your house makeover is almost complete.”
“Remind me of what phase one is.”
“Redoing all the bedrooms and bathrooms, your study, and workout room. I’d like to show you the tiles they finished around your tub, but we have to eat and get to the game. You’re home late.”
“Yeah, they were working on my shoulder.”
Her eyes get big. “Did you hurt it again?”
“Not the throwing arm. My other shoulder is a little stiff. It got jarred on a tackle last week. Nothing unusual. Just got an extra-long massage.”
“That’s good.” She blows out a breath of air. “You know Melvin’s got two grand on you winning your third ring. I’ve got to get all the plumbing done in your house before the playoffs.”
“Is Jennifer still here?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m just wondering when she’s going home.”
“Is that why you haven’t made a move yet? You’re afraid she’s going home?”
“She was with the guy for about as long as I was with Lori. You don’t get over that in a day.”
“You do when it is the last straw,” she argues.
“I’ve got enough going on in my life. I don’t need to be jerked around by her. It’s cool that she’s here and all. It was really nice of you. And I will admit, it’s great seeing her. But he’s gone off the wagon before, and she always takes him back.”
“Maybe that’s because you were never in the picture before,” she sasses. “I’m shocked, honestly, that you’re not more excited by this.”
“She’s been here all of twenty-four hours! And I can’t just make a move. I have to think about the kids.”
“Danny, so help me.” She stops in her tracks, turning toward me, the smile wiped from her face. “If you use the kids again as an excuse for not allowing yourself to be happy, I’m going to stop being your friend.”
“No, you’re not,” I scoff.
She’s been my best friend since the sixth grade.
“I. Am,” she says, poking her finger into my chest with each word. “One. Hundred. Percent. Serious. Danny.”
We have a staredown, neither of us allowing ourselves to blink. This is usually the part where she starts laughing.
But she doesn’t.
“Fine,” I say, giving in.
She gives me a happy smirk, grabs my elbow, and then drags me to her front porch. “Before we go inside, I’m just going to say one thing. Dani has the cheerleader sleepover tonight, and your son is spending the night at our house. You know, in case you wanted to have a sleepover of your own.”
I gulp.
“Danny,” she admonishes, “what’s wrong with you? You told me that, if you’d slept with her when you first met, you wouldn’t have left the bed for three days. You’ll have to do with about twelve hours this time. Although I can keep the boys busy in the morning, Dani will be back home before her eleven o’clock spa appointment.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?” I ask.
“Soon? Are you kidding me? You’ve been waiting fourteen years for this!”
“It feels like a lot of pressure. Stop pressuring me!” I spit.
“Danny, calm down. There’s no pressure. You don’t have to invite her over. I’m just letting you know, I’ve opened up a window of opportunity. To use your terms, the offensive line is holding tight, and there’s a crease in the defense. It’s up to you to decide if you’re going to keep the ball or hand it off to someone else.”
“Very funny.” I sigh. “I want to keep the ball.”
“It’s been a while. It’s obvious that it’s awkward for you both because of the baggage you’re carrying behind you, but the sparks are still so evident. Invite her over. Go slow. Get to be friends. She needs a friend.”
“I don’t want to be her friend,” I say adamantly.
“Yeah, you do. You always say you wish you had a relationship like Phillip and I have. He’s my best friend. You and Lori were never friends. I want you to have it all next time around. I want you to feel hot passion, but I also want the woman you are with to really like you as a person. Love, friendship, and respect are important for a long, successful relationship.”
“You’ve always said Lori doesn’t respect me.”
“She doesn’t, Danny. And it kills me to watch.”
“It sounds so old-fashioned.” I smile and then give her a hug.
“Respecting someone has nothing to do with gender roles. There are guys on your team who you respect the hell out of, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And are you friends with all of them?”
“Not like best friends.”
“Respect means you value someone and their feelings. You appreciate them. Even when Phillip pisses me off and I think I hate him, I respect him enough not to do anything stupid. Not to say something in the heat of the moment that I would later regret. I respect him enough to always give him the benefit of the doubt. Even if he doesn’t agree with me, I respect and value his opinion. I truly care what he thinks. He’s smart.” She smiles, wiggling her eyebrows. “Plus, he’s hot. You are, too. At least you’ve still got that going for you.”
I roll my eyes and walk into her house, which is surprisingly quiet. “Where is everyone?” I ask.
“I’m in the study,” I hear Jennifer call out.
“Why don’t you go chat while I do the final meal prep?”
When I don’t move, she purrs in my ear.
“Shut up,” I whisper, knowing what that means—she thinks I’m being a pussy.
I’ve never been nervous around any girl. Ever.
I take a deep breath, push my shoulders back, and walk toward the study with my normal cocky swagger. Like I’m walking out on the field for the biggest game of my life.
That is why I’m feeling nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve played this game.
“So, what did you think of the homecoming parade?” I ask Jennifer as I walk through the doors.
She’s sitting in one of the big wingback chairs by the window with her feet tucked under her, looking like she belongs.
“It was really fun. The floats were cool, and I have a pocketful of Tootsie Rolls.”
She pulls one out and tosses it at me. I snag it out of the air, unwrap it, and pop it into my mouth.
“Thanks.”
“You can sit down if you want,” Jennifer says, making me realize that I’ve been standing here, chewing and staring at her.
“Oh, um, yeah.” I take a seat.
She immediately gets up, shuts the doors to the study, and then takes her seat again. “Are you going to the game tonight?”