IT TURNS out that Christmas morning is a lot more fun when you’re in a houseful of people, and when the guy by your side told you he loves you… and that he’s yours. I think James thought I was asleep last night for that part, but I caught it in between waking and dreaming. I’ve spent the morning curled up on the couch with him, watching his family unwrap presents while instrumental Christmas music plays in the background, and between the teasing and laughter, I haven’t stopped smiling. James’ siblings surprised me with a very thoughtful mini tripod and a book of Annie Leibovitz’s photography. James loved the monogrammed leather duffel I got him; I texted Laura immediately to thank her for helping me pick it out.
James presses a little blue box into my hands. “Here, princess.”
I look up at him, blushing like I do every time other people are around to hear the nickname. He has a gleam in his eyes that instantly makes me wary that he spent too much money on me. I recognize the particular shade of blue; I doubt there’s a woman in America who wouldn’t. When I open the box, a pair of cheesy football-shaped earrings fall into my lap. Which is adorable, but I’m too focused on the gorgeous pair of diamond hoops nestled into the velvet underneath.
“James, this is… this is too much.”
“Do you love them?”
I nod, touching one of the hoops with my fingernail. It’s so delicate. Pretty and perfect—just big enough to show off, but not too flashy. I don’t even want to think about how much he spent on them, especially after the camera.
“Then that’s all that matters.”
“You’re too sweet.” I lift one of the hoops from the velvet and put it on. “Did you help him pick them out, Izzy?”
“Nope,” she says. “That was all him. He disappeared into Tiffany’s for like, an hour. On Izzy Day.”
I kiss his cheek as I put on the other one. “Thank you. Although this means you don’t need to buy me another present possibly ever.”
My phone buzzes in my lap. I pick it up distractedly; I tried calling my mother earlier to wish her Merry Christmas, and she didn’t pick up. “Hey, Mom, Merry Christ—”
“Bexy. I knew you’d pick up.”
Darryl’s voice stops me cold. I get up, murmuring an apology to James, his family, the room at large—I don’t know. I can barely swallow. My heart is in my throat.
“Yeah, their house is beautiful,” I say loudly, so James won’t follow. “James got me the prettiest pair of earrings; I’ll text you a picture.”
Somehow, I make it to the bathroom. I lock the door and slump against it. “Darryl. What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re with him?” He snorts. “Should have guessed. You’re still riding his dick for all it’s worth.”
“What do you want?”
“Is that all it takes, babe? A mansion and fancy earrings? I thought you had more substance than that.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“Wait.” There’s a genuine note of emotion in his voice, so I don’t. Damnit, why is he calling me on Christmas? “I want to know.”
“Know what?”
“Why him?” He pauses, breathing heavily on the line. “Why’d you pick that asshole?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I barely resist the urge to correct him about Sara; he doesn’t have the right to that information, plus I don’t want him to know I caved and confronted James about it. “And he’s not an asshole, he’s my boyfriend and your teammate and you need to back the hell up.”
“You never wanted to meet my family. Go to my parents’ house. I had to drag you to dinner with them. The one time I tried to do something fucking nice for you and buy your stupid photography, you wouldn’t let me.”
I shut my eyes. “Who cares, Darryl? It was a year ago.”
“I know I fucked up when I cheated,” he says. “But I’m not letting you go.”
“You need to.”
“No.”
“Saying no won’t—”
“No,” he snaps. His voice cracks over the line like lightning. “Don’t fucking tell me no.”
I take a deep breath. I’m trembling, but it’s not like he’s actually here. He’s in Boston with his family. I’m on Long Island. We’re hours away from each other; the freakin’ Long Island Sound is between us. But his voice feels so forceful that for half a second, I have to resist the urge to look over my shoulder.
“Bexy,” he says, his voice breaking, softer now. “I miss you. I still…”
I’m quiet for a moment. “Darryl, we’re not together anymore.”
“You’re the only one I’ve ever—”
“Stop calling me,” I interrupt, terrified of whatever he’s about to say. I can’t hear those words come out of his mouth. Not now, not ever. Especially not so soon after James said it to me.
“You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?”
I hang up. He calls again immediately, and when that goes to voicemail, he just calls again. I block his number, shaking so badly I miss the button the first couple of tries. I flush the toilet, in case anyone is waiting in the hallway, and run the sink to splash some water on my face.
I look normal enough to re-join the party, I think. I tweak one of the earrings. James will be wondering where I went.
But when I exit, Richard is waiting for me.
“Bex,” he says. “How is your mother?”
“Oh, um, fine.” I stand up straighter. I haven’t been alone with Richard, and after the conversation with Darryl, I’m jumpy as hell. He doesn’t love me, but if he really thinks he does, that makes me more uncomfortable than I’d like to admit. “Thanks for asking. Should we…”
“You love my son,” Richard says.
It’s not a question. I nod.
“And you agree that he’s destined for greatness.”
I’ve never heard someone use that expression seriously. But it’s not like he’s lying, so I nod again. “He’s so talented.”
My response makes Richard relax slightly. He puts his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall. He came down this morning in a sweater with a fuzzy Christmas tree on it, and his outfit juxtaposed with the serious expression on his face is making me feel slightly hysterical. “I like you, Beckett. I think you have a good head on your shoulders. I admire practicality.”
“Thank you?”
“I want to talk to you about a matter of practicality.” His eyes, so like James’, look me over. I shiver. How James and his siblings handled having that look directed at them growing up is beyond me. “I have no problem with you dating him. In fact, I think you’ve been good for him. In an ideal world, you’ll be in his life for a long time. But we agree that the most important thing is for him to fulfill his destiny, right? He should have the chance to become the legend he has the talent and potential to be.”
I nod; that’s easy. “Yes. It’s all I want for him.”
“Good. We’re in agreement.” He cocks his head to the side slightly. “All I’m asking is for you not to threaten that. If my son cares for you, he’ll put you first. He’ll never put himself first. And that’s exactly what he needs to do right now.” He takes a step closer. “Whatever problems you’re dealing with, whatever leads to phone conversations like that—don’t tell him. Don’t make it his problem. Not now. Do you understand?”
He’s right. There was a problem at the diner, and James practically fought to come with me. If he knew about Darryl, he’d do something he’d just regret later. “I understand.”
“Good.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “And Bex? A word of advice.”
I look up at him. He has a serious expression on his face, but there’s softness in there, too. It’s almost fatherly. I haven’t had a look like that directed at me in years.
I hate how much it affects me.
“This goes for the diner, too. Think long and hard before tying yourself to it. Because he won’t choose the team he ends up on.”
“I know.”
“He’d be faithful, but would it be the best thing for you both? Think about it.”
He gives my shoulder another squeeze before smiling and walking back to the den, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I wipe at my eyes, taking a deep breath, and tell myself to move.
Instead, I stare down at my phone. Since I blocked Darryl’s number, I have no idea if the calls have stopped. I take a chance and unblock it, sending a text that does nothing to slow my heart rate or ease the tension in my shoulders.
Let’s talk before the game.
