by Joanne Rock
Her hands hovered beside the ring.
“Did you...?” She felt embarrassed. Flustered. She should leap into his arms and say yes. Any other woman would. But Adelaide had waited most of her life to hear those words and she didn’t want to miss any of it. “I’m sorry. I was so mesmerized by the ring and the setting and—” She gestured to the balloon above them and the scenery below. “It’s all so overwhelming. But are you saying you want to get married? For real?” Happy tears pooled in her eyes already. “I love you so much.”
And then she did fling herself into his arms, tears spilling onto the beautiful silk collar of his tuxedo. But she was just so happy.
Only...he still hadn’t said he loved her. Her declaration of love hung suspended like a balloon between them. In fact, Dempsey patted her back awkwardly now, as if that was his reply.
She hadn’t missed the words in his proposal, she realized with a heart sinking like lead. He simply hadn’t said them. She knew, even before she edged back and saw the expression on his face. Not bewildered, exactly. More...unsure.
It wasn’t an expression she’d seen on his face in many years. Her Reynaud fiancé was used to getting what he wanted, and while he might want Adelaide for a bride, it wasn’t for the same reason that she would have liked to be his wife.
“Adelaide. Think about the future we can have together. All the things we can achieve.” He must have seen her expression shifting from joy to whatever it was she was feeling now.
Deflation.
“Marriage isn’t about being a team or working well together.” She wrapped a hand around one of the ropes tying the basket to the balloon, needing something to steady her without the solid strength of Dempsey Reynaud beside her.
“There are far more reasons than that.”
“There’s only one reason that I would marry. Just one.” She stared out at the world coming closer to them now. Dempsey must have signaled Jim to take them back down.
Their date was over.
“The ring is one of a kind, Adelaide. Like you.” His words reminded her of all she was giving up. All she would be turning her back on if she refused him now.
But she’d waited too long for love to accept half measures now. She owed herself better.
“We both deserve to be loved,” she told him softly, not able to meet his gaze and feel the raw connection that was still mostly one-sided. “You’re my friend, Dempsey. And I want that for you as much as I want it for me.”
When the balloon touched down, it jarred her. Sent her tumbling into his arms before the basket righted itself.
She didn’t linger there, though.
Her fairy tale had come to an end.
Twelve
Three days later, back home at the Hurricanes’ training facility, Dempsey envied the guys on the practice field. After the knife in the gut that had been Adelaide’s rejection, he would trade his job for the chance to pull on shoulder pads and hit the living hell out of a practice dummy. Or to pound out the frustration through his feet with wind sprints—one set after another.
Instead, he roamed the steaming-hot practice field and nitpicked performances while sweat beaded on his forehead. He blew his whistle a lot and made everyone else work their asses off. Fair or not, teams were built through sweat, and he’d played on enough teams himself to know you balanced the good times—the wins—with the challenges. And if the challenges didn’t come on the field on Sunday, a good coach handed them up in practice.
“Again!” he barked at the receivers running long patterns in the heat. Normally, Dempsey focused on the full team as they practiced plays. But today he had taken over the receiver coach’s job.
In a minute, he’d move on to the running backs, since he’d already been through all the defensive positions.
Adelaide had not publicly broken their engagement yet, but she had moved out of his house. Which shouldn’t have surprised him after the epic fail of his proposal. He’d planned for the moment all week. Spent every spare second that he wasn’t with his team figuring out how to make the night special. Yet it had fallen short of the mark for her.
Of course, they hadn’t gotten to half of it. He’d ordered an outdoor dinner set up in the mountains with a perfect view of the sunset. He’d had a classical guitarist in place, for crying out loud, so they could dance under the stars.
And she hadn’t even taken her ring.
Of all the things that had gone wrong that night, that bothered him the most, given how much thought he’d put into the design. Sure, he was to blame for not understanding that he could have scrapped the balloon, the limo and the guitarist to simply say, “I love you.” Except, in all his planning, that had never occurred to him. He’d known what he felt for Addy was big. But was it love? He’d shut down that emotional part of himself long ago, probably on one of the nights his mother had locked him out of the house, claiming some irrational fault on his part, but mostly because she was high.
Love wasn’t part of his vernacular.
That had worked out fine for him in the Reynaud house full of men. Caring was demonstrated through externals. A one-two punch for a greeting like what he and Jean-Pierre still exchanged. Covering up for Henri when his younger brother had broken a priceless antique. His first well-executed corporate raid had won the admiration of Gervais and Leon alike.
Dempsey understood that world. It was his world, and he’d handed it to Adelaide on a silver platter, but it hadn’t been enough.
And now he’d lost her in every way possible. As his friend. His lover. His future wife.
Stalking away from the receivers, he was about to put the running backs to work when his brother Henri jogged over to match his steps.
“Got a second, Coach?” Henri used the deferential speech of a player, a sign of respect Dempsey had never had to ask for, but which had always been freely given even though Henri thought nothing of busting his chops off the field.
“I probably have one.” He kept walking.
Henri kept pace.
“Privately?” he urged in a tone that bordered on less deferential. “Practice was supposed to end an hour ago.”
Surprised, Dempsey checked his watch.
“Shit. Fine.” He blew his whistle loud enough for the whole field to hear. “Thanks for the hard work today. Same time tomorrow.”
A chorus of relieved groans echoed across the field. Dempsey changed course toward the offices. Henri still kept pace.
“You’re killing the guys,” Henri observed, his helmet tucked under one arm, his practice jersey drenched with sweat. “Any particular reason?”
They were back to being brothers now that practice was done and no one would overhear.
“We have a tough game on Sunday and our first two wins have not been as decisive as I would have liked.” He halted his steps and folded his arms, waiting for Henri to spit out whatever was on his mind. “You have a problem with that?”
“I’m all about team building.” Henri planted a cleat on the first row of bleachers. “But you’ve run them long every day this week. Morale is low. The guys are confused in the locker room. I know that’s not what you’re going for.”
“Since when do you snitch on locker-room talk about me?” Dempsey shooed away one of the field personnel who came by to pick up a water cooler. He didn’t need an audience for this talk.
“Only since you started acting like a coach with a chip on his shoulder instead of the supremely capable leader you’ve been the whole rest of my tenure with this team.”
The rare compliment surprised him. The complaint really didn’t. There was a chance Henri was correct.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” He accepted the input with a nod and tucked his clipboard under one arm to head inside.
“So where’s Adelaide?” Henri asked, stopping
Dempsey in his tracks.
“Running her own business. Having a life outside the Hurricanes.” Without him.
The knowledge still gutted him.
“Since I’m on a real roll with advice today, can I offer a second piece?” Henri brushed some dirt off his helmet.
“Definitely not.” Pivoting away from his brother, he noticed some of his players were lying on the field.
Were they that tired? Had he run them that hard?
The idea bothered him. A lot.
“Dude, I’m not claiming to be an expert on women.” Henri hovered at his shoulder, carrying the water cooler inside. “Far from it with the way my marriage is going these days.”
The dark tone in Henri’s voice revealed a truth the guy had probably tried hard to keep quiet.
“Sorry to hear it.” Because even though Dempsey was waist high in self-pity right now, he felt bad for his brother.
“My point is, I know enough about women to know you’re going about it all wrong.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Henri laughed, a loud, abrupt cackle. “How much time do you have, old man?” Then, tossing his helmet and the water cooler on the ground, he pantomimed a quick right hook to Dempsey’s gut. “Seriously. Don’t let Adelaide go.”
And then he was gone, scooping up the helmet and shouldering the cooler to go hassle the slackers left on the field. No doubt reinstalling the team morale that Dempsey had single-handedly shredded.
He wasn’t sure what had shocked him more. He’d never been particularly close with Henri, sensing that the guy had resented Dempsey more than the others as kids because Henri had been close with their mother. The mother who’d left as soon as Dempsey had set foot in the Reynaud house. But that was a long time ago, and maybe he needed to shake off the idea that he was a black sheep brother. Figure out how to be a better brother.
How to show he cared about people beyond stilted words about being good teammates.
Henri was right. It was time for Dempsey to stop expecting Adelaide to read between the lines with him. Just because she understood him better than anyone didn’t excuse him from spelling out his feelings for her. She deserved that and much, much more.
So damn much more.
But he was going to lay it on the line for her again, without any distractions or big gestures. And hope like hell he got it right this time. Because the truth of the matter was he couldn’t live without her. His championship season didn’t mean anything if he couldn’t share it with her.
The woman he loved.
* * *
Adelaide dug to the bottom of her pint of strawberry gelato while seated on her kitchen counter in the middle of the afternoon, wishing strawberry tasted half as good as chocolate ice cream.
Except everything chocolate reminded her of Dempsey after their chocolate-sauce encounter, and if she thought about Dempsey, she would cry. And after three days back home alone in her crappy apartment, she did not feel like crying anymore.
Okay, she did a little. Especially if she thought about how much effort he’d put into romancing her on Sunday after the game. How many other women would trade anything to be treated the way Dempsey treated her? Yet she’d discounted all his efforts in the hope of hearing he loved her.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
Except that she’d do it all over again because she was one of those romantic girls who believed the right guy would hand her his whole heart forever and ever. She didn’t think she could go through life if that turned out to be a myth. Then again, she wasn’t sure she could go another day without Dempsey.
But she could probably go through a few more single-serving-size gelatos. She’d bought every flavor that didn’t contain chocolate, determined to find some new taste to love.
Her doorbell rang as she was on her way back to the freezer.
No doubt her mother on a mission of mercy to lift her spirits. Little did Della know that Adelaide was only going to stuff her with gelato to avoid hearing any kind platitudes about waiting for the right one to come along.
She yanked open the door, only to have the safety chain catch, and remembered too late she was supposed to look through the peephole. She didn’t live in Dempsey’s ultrasafe mansion anymore.
He stood on her welcome mat.
The man who hadn’t left her thoughts in days wore black running shorts and a black-and-gold Hurricanes sideline T-shirt like the ones the players wore. He must have come straight from practice, because he made a point not to wander around town in team gear that made him all the more recognizable. He looked good enough to eat, reminding her why all the gelato in the world was not going to satisfy her craving.
“May I come in?” he asked, making her realize she’d stood there gawking without saying anything.
“Of course. Just a sec.” She closed the door partway to remove the chain, then opened it again, more than a little wary.
She told herself it was just as well he’d stopped by, since she had wanted to give him that damn deed back to the manufacturing facility. Except he looked as tired as she felt, the circles under his eyes even darker than the ones she knew were on her face. The rest of him looked as good as ever, however, his thighs so deliciously delineated as he walked that she thought about all the times she’d seen them naked. Against her own.
“How’d practice go?” Her voice was dry and she cleared it. She’d continued to work for the team from home, not wanting to leave him in the lurch.
He hadn’t said anything about her absence at the training facility, acknowledging her work-related emails with curt “thanks” that had been typical of him long before now.
“Poorly. I haven’t been myself this week and I’ve been pushing the guys too hard. Henri called me on it today. I’m going to do better.” He wandered around her living room, touching her things, looking at her paintings over the ancient nonfunctional fireplace.
She was surprised that he’d admitted to screwing up. No, that wasn’t true. She was more surprised that he’d screwed up in the first place. He normally put so much effort into thinking how to best coach a team, he didn’t make the type of mistakes he had described.
“I’m glad. That you’re going to be better with the team, that is.” Nervous, she wandered over to the refrigerator that was so old that modern retro styles copied the design. “Would you like a gelato?”
She pulled out a coconut-lime flavor and cracked open the top.
“No, thank you.” He set down a statue of a cat that she used to display Mardi Gras beads. “I came here to bring you this. You left it behind when you moved out your things.”
He set a familiar ring box on the breakfast bar dividing the living area from the kitchen. Her on one side. Him on the other. A ring in between.
As if her heart wasn’t battered enough already.
“That stone is worth a fortune.” She hadn’t taken the yellow diamond either, of course. That one, she’d left on his bathroom vanity.
“And you’re worth everything to me, so you can see you are well suited.” He opened the box and took out the ring. “It’s not an engagement ring. I’d already given you one of those. Adelaide, this one is the grown-up version of that bracelet I made you. Something you’ve worn every day of your life since I gave it to you.”
“Friendship is forever,” she reminded him, something he’d told her the day he gave it to her.
He came into the kitchen and eased her grip on the coconut-lime gelato, then set it on the linoleum countertop.
“I’m glad you remember that.” He held the ring close to her bracelet. “Look and see how the patterns match.”
“I see.” She blinked hard, not sure what he was getting at. But she couldn’t wear that beautiful ring on her finger every day without her heart breaking more.
“The spoon
part is supposed to remind you that you’re still my best friend. Forever.” He slipped his hand around hers. “The rare blue garnet is there to tell you how rare it is to find love and friendship in the same place. And how beautiful it is when it happens.”
Her gaze flipped up to his as she tried to gauge his expression. To gauge his heart.
“That’s not what you said when you gave it to me.” She shook her head. “It’s not fair to say things you don’t mean—”
“I do, Adelaide.” He took both her hands in his. Squeezed. “Please let me try to explain. I got it all wrong before, I know. But it was not for lack of effort.”
“It was a beautiful date,” she acknowledged, knowing she’d never recover from loving him. There would never be a man in her life like this one.
And it broke her heart into tiny pieces if he thought he could win her back by trotting out the right phrases.
“I spent so much time thinking about how to make the proposal perfect—how to make you stay—I never gave any thought to what you might want. What was important to you.” He shook his head. “It’s like spending all my time shoring up the defense and ignoring the fact that I had no offense.”
She tried not to mind the sports metaphor. And, heaven help her, she did understand exactly what he meant.
“So I was just caught off guard at how much I missed the mark that day. It must tell you something that a mention of love threw me so far off my game I didn’t even know what to say in return.”
“You would know what to say if you felt it, too.” She stepped back, needing to protect herself from the hurt this conversation was inevitably going to bring.
“No. Just the opposite. I didn’t understand what I felt because I don’t say those words, Addy.” He looked at her as if he was perfectly serious.
And beneath the trappings of the wealthy, powerful man who was the CEO of international companies and would one day coach a team to the Super Bowl, Adelaide saw the wounded gaze of her old friend. The boy who hadn’t been given enough love as a child yet still found enough kindness in his heart to rescue a little girl from a trouncing because he was an innately fair and honorable person.