Page 104 of The No Try Zone
“Okay, enough with the chips,” I chide, leaning into my best friend.
Kari grumbles. “I don’t know why any of you bother, anyway.”
Allyson’s brows raise. “Bother with what?”
“Love. It’s disappointing and lets you down. Maybe not immediately, but let’s be real: it’s inevitable.”
“Wow,” Allyson drawls. “Way to rain on my wedded bliss.”
“I’d like to remind you that you were the one to push me toward Ansel.” Elodie points a chip at Kari.
Kari shrugs. “I just wanted to get you a job that would allow you time to chase your dream. Being a nanny was perfect.”
“And you introduced me to Allyson,” Elodie presses.
“Because you needed a push. Not because I believe in happily ever after.”
“Spoken like a true cynic,” I mutter.
“Fine,” Kari says, putting her hands up in surrender. “Maybe your giant Samoan and your slutty thigh-tattoo having men are the exceptions to the rule. But what about Colin? Men like him are the problem.”
I bite my lip, wanting to argue with her but knowing it’s useless. Because they’re all right: until Colin is brave enough to love me in the open, then there’s nothing else to do. And I don’t know if he truly loves me to begin with.
He does.I know he does. But it doesn’t matter. We move forward with the divorce.
Chapter38
Colin
THE JEWELRY BOX is burning a hole in my pocket. It’s got her necklace in it, the one I’ve been too chicken-shit to give back, and my ring. With a sigh, I pull it out of my khakis and toss it into the carry-on before leaving the house.
The team makes quite a scene at the airport, surrounded by people taking photos and asking for autographs. Ansel warned me it’s like this every time we travel by plane, but admittedly, I wasn’t prepared for the scale of it. It’s professional rugby, not basketball or even football. But put a bunch of athletes in one spot and I guess it doesn’t matter whether they’re popular or not; just the chance of getting a picture to post on social media is enough.
“Coach.” Ansel appears at my side, drawing the attention of a group of women I’m guessing are in their thirties.
“Miles. This is worse than you said.”
“Just try to ignore it,” he counsels. “It gets easier. Besides, aren’t you used to it from the college gigs?”
I snort. “Not even a little.”
“Excuse me,” a female voice says. “Are you Colin Thicke?”
I turn and see an absolute stunner of a woman: tall, dark hair, brown eyes, bright smile. I’m so taken aback by someone knowing my name that I stare for a second before finally answering. “Uh, yeah. Yes. That’s me.”
Her smile widens. “Thought so. Can I get a picture? I’m a big fan.” There is absolutely no mistaking the suggestion in her voice.
But Ansel is watching with an amused expression on his face, so I nod. “Sure.”
“Mind if I put my arm around you?” she asks.
“No problem.”
She hands her phone to Ansel. “I like you, too,” she tells him, “but you’re taken. I follow all the pro sports in Atlanta,” she tells me, wrapping an arm around my waist and snuggling in close. “You can touch, you know.” She smiles up at me. “I won’t bite.”
I highly doubt that, but I also want this over with. So I move my arm behind her, lightly touching her shoulder and hoping I’m not grimacing at the camera.
Ansel nods and hands the phone back to the woman. “Here you go.” Then he gives me a shit-eating grin as she inspects the pictures.
