Your Biggest Fan
Page 9
"Well, maybe in a few years, when I'm done winning. I'll come on over and help you guys out."
"I could use some help now." I slipped before I could stop myself.
"What's wrong?" Preston's tone grew serious.
I remained quiet.
"Who is she?" Preston asked.
"Her names Callie Blake," I whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You know that thing we weren't going to do until we were out of the league and old and it didn't matter."
"You didn't." Preston asked.
"I did." I plopped on the coach. "I fucked up."
"Fucked up." Preston groaned. "You did it. You fell in love."
"Yep."
"No sweat man." Preston said. I stared at the receiver. "I think I fucked up, too."
Preston wasn't telling me anything I didn’t know. He and his girl Kate would be married within a year.
I worked out, cleaned up, and did everything I could to clear my mind. It didn't work. All I could think about was what was missing. I headed to my meeting telling myself to forget about Callie.
As soon as I walked in the office, Randall and I went over the contract. It was a good deal. I smirked thinking about how much Callie would love to hear about it. I saw her in every sentence, every figure, in each clause and incentive. I wanted to be the one to tell her. See the sexy gleam in her eyes as she told me how happy she was for me.
I joined Sampson at his press conference. He introduced me to the fans of New York, and we ended the day with dinner. After sulking around the brownstone all week, I wasn't ready to return to an empty house.
I checked into Coach’s hotel. Thoughts of Callie faded when I drifted off to sleep, but then I dreamed about her.
I met Coach for breakfast the next morning.
"Am I seriously spending Valentine's Day with you?" Coach asked as he sipped his coffee.
"Yeah, well. If you weren't between wives, maybe you'd have a better option."
"What about you?"
"You're asking me about my love life?"
"Well, I read about what you went through a couple of months ago. Is it still a problem?"
"Maybe you should have asked me before you signed me."
"I'm not asking as your coach. I'm asking as your friend." I peered out the window. "Noah, you are a good man. You deserve to be happy. You need to find that one woman out there who gets you."
I sighed.
"What's wrong?"
"Well, I think I did."
"Really. That was quick. So what's the problem?"
"I've known her for three weeks, and I already let her down."
"Even I can't let someone down that quick."
"Coach, tell me the truth. After three divorces—"
"Two divorces, the last one isn't finalized." He shook his head.
"Do you still think it's possible to find someone who can deal with all your shit?"
"Is that the goal?"
"Yeah, well, isn't it?"
"I think the goal is to find someone who no matter what shit is going on, she will always be rooting for you."
I scratched my head as I laughed out loud.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Life is crazy, isn't it?"
"You got that right, son."
As far as finding someone to root for me, the person for me might never want to speak to me again. I let her down. I did exactly what she expected me to do.
Well, the only way to win her back was to do exactly what the blog version of Noah would do. Be her hero. Remind her what we had was every bit as good as her fantasy.
Not too weird, right?
Nineteen
Callie
The snow finally melted, and with my mother driving me nuts, it was time to go home. The news about Noah's new contract flashed across my newsfeed for the last two days. While having him in New York would be weird, I had at least eight million people to hide behind to avoid seeing him.
If I could figure out how to stop the Noah Patrick Google alerts hitting my inbox every day, I could get him out of my life.
"Where you heading, ma'am?" the driver asked.
"Brooklyn. Park Slope." I settled in the cab and stared out the window.
"Sure thing."
I forgot it was Valentine’s Day. I spotted men delivering vase after vase of roses in every other office building as we drove out of Manhattan.
"I know it's a little out of the way,” I leaned forward. “But can you take the Brooklyn Bridge."
"Your dime." He chuckled.
I hadn't returned to my blog but had answered a few fan emails. I knew I couldn't continue to write it even if I wanted to, too weird. I didn't tell my fans that, but I had to tell them something.
I drafted the final post, appropriate considering I started the blog on Valentine’s Day three years ago.
The entire blog was a lie, a fabrication to entertain my soul, and I missed it already. It might not have been so bad if I didn't already have one huge hole in my heart.
For the final post, I figured I would tell the truth, some version it anyway.
Blog Entry Posted on Lifewith89.com
February 14th -
Happy Valentine's Day!
I think for the first time in my life I mean it. I'm still not a big fan of the holiday. If ever I was ready to start appreciating the blessing of love, it might as well be this day.
I love you guys. Every single person who has followed, read, and commented on this blog. I appreciate the support for my overactive imagination and obsessive infatuation with Mr. Eighty-Nine. People have told me they wanted to find their own Mr. Eighty-Nine. I hope that for you, too.
But I also want to warn people that Mr. Eighty-Nine isn't the guy who catches a football now for a certain team in New York.
He could be someone in your life already. He may not be the guy who makes a lot of money or who buys you crazy gifts or takes you on trips around the world.
He may be the guy who remembers to let your dog out. He may be the guy who carries you to the hospital because you broke your foot in the snow. Perhaps, he's the guy who throws you a Super Bowl party for two.
Whoever he or she is, the best thing you can do for them is let them know you are on their side. Let them know you are on their team. Let them know you are their biggest fan.
Happy Valentine Life, my friends.
I posted it as we hit the bridge.
I watched as my favorite borough came into view. I loved Brooklyn. The warm feeling I experienced the first time I crossed the bridge bubbled under the surface. I couldn't wait to get back to it; back to the life I began to create for myself.
It was time for me to grow up.
I thought creating the blog would allow me to discover my passion. Maybe it had. Writing made me happy.
I wrote about Noah, but he barely resembled the man I spent the last month with. Besides the job, Noah wasn't like the guy on my blog.
I wasn't much like Carrie either. She looked like me and kind of talked like me. She exuded confidence and self-esteem.
Nothing like me.
The Noah I created with his cocky swagger and heart of gold paled in comparison to the sweet, vulnerable, and passionate man I got to know.
The things I made up and the adventures I took these two characters on were all my imagination.
I sighed as we pulled up to the brownstone. It was time to put Carrie and Noah to rest, ready to move on to new characters, new adventures, and new loves.
I peered up at the door as I climbed the steps but turned and took a seat on the stoop.
My new life could start in a few minutes. No need to rush into it.
I took Noah, the dog, out of his carrier and let him run around. He ran up the steps and then back down.
"Come here, Nip." He placed his feet on the bottom step and peered up. Something down the street distracted him.
"Nip, come," I demanded, and he jumped up the steps. I reached for him and he st
opped short and took off back down the stairs, looked at me, and then took off down the street.
"You have got to be kidding me." I grabbed the railing and pulled myself up. I got around good in the boot, but not good enough to chase after a Chihuahua at a full sprint.
"Nip," I called out and a couple of people stopped, but they didn't try to stop him. "Noah, stop."
Halfway down the next block, Noah stopped and jumped on the heels of a stranger. The man bent over and picked him up. My heart went in my throat.
The stranger pushed his hood off his head.
I groaned.
It was Noah ... and he was heading my direction.
I'm taking Nip to the pound first thing in the morning.
I stopped in my tracks and glared.
He scratched Nip under his chin.
Nip yowled as Noah whispered in his little floppy ears.
Noah stood in front of me with my dog in his arms. Little Nip nuzzled under Noah's chin. My dog had turned on me, and I couldn't be mad at him. I wanted to cuddle with Noah, too.
"No need to yell.” He smirked. “I'm right here."
“ I wasn't talking to you.” I placed my hands on my hips.
"Oh, you were calling my namesake." He chuckled.
His voice hit me in the gut. He had stubble on his chin and wore sunglasses.
"Well, you both have a lot in common." I looked away. "You both are stubborn and don't listen."
"I accept that." He handed him back. "We have a few more things in common."
"What's that?"
"We're both happy you're on our side, on our team."
"You're reading my blog now.” I looked up. “Next thing you know, you're going to tell me you are my biggest fan?"
"Well, yeah." He reached out and tugged on my coat sleeve. "That and I thought we should give that girl Mary's idea a try."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Callie and Noah reality tour. See if I can make reality live up to your imagination."
"That's a pretty tall order. You think you're up for it?"
“I’d like to try.” He removed his glasses.
The tears formed in my eyes. While I loved the idea, it all seemed too strange, too weird. Too good to be true.
"I don't know, Noah." I bit my lip.
"Well, Noah and I have another thing in common." He ran a piece of my hair through his fingers.
It sent a chill up my spine.
"What?"
Noah stepped forward.
"We're both completely in love with you and can't imagine our lives without you." He touched my cheek.
Noah, the dog, yelped in agreement.
I stepped back.
Noah reached for me, and I stepped back further.
"What was that?" I asked. Not sure I heard him correctly, or maybe I just wanted to hear him say it again.
He reached out for me and wrapped his arms around my waist, not allowing me to move away from him any farther.
"Callie Blake … I … love … you."
I beamed, as my name fell from his lips.
He loved me.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't need to hear any more.
I saw it in his eyes; I felt it in the way he touched me.
I stood on my toes and whispered, “Happy Valentine's Day?"
"Happy Valentine’s Day," he whispered back as he kissed me.
The End.
Also by Sydney Aaliyah Michelle
Another New Life
A New Season
Let it Breathe
Hope Series
Hope for Her
Hope for Him
Hope for Us
Hope: A Sports Romance Boxed Set
Hope for Us All (Hope Series Christmas Novella)
Love Sick Series
Anxious Love
Highland Park Chronicles
Salvage Him
Educate Him
The Fan Series
Your Biggest Fan
Your Loyal Fan
Your Fan Forever
About the Author
Sydney Aaliyah Michelle is a Contemporary Romance writer, a voracious reader, tattoo lover, and movie fanatic who hails from Texas.
After surviving 5 1/2 years living in China, she had the courage to finally pursue her passion and become a writer.
She identifies the sci-fi action flick "The Matrix" as the best representation of her life in the past. She is now blessed to be awake and doing what she loves.
She can recite the entire script from the 80's teen comedy/drama "The Breakfast Club" and loves any and everything associated with the Avengers Movie, especially Tony Stark.
When it come to books, Sydney reads different genres, but some of her favorite writers are Stephen King, Alex J. Cavanaugh, J.A. Huss, M. Never & Emily Bronte. Under the Dome, The Great Gatsby & Wuthering Heights are her favorite books.
Email Sydney at sydney@sydneyaaliyahmichelle.com.
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