Hoops Holiday (Hoops 2.50)

Sadie’s steady stare bores holes into my face.

“Okay, maybe a very little,” I admit, rushing on over her laughter. “What professional athlete wearing a towel hits on a journalist in the locker room? Like, who does that?”

“You said yourself it was ten years ago.”

“It was humiliating, and the guys on the beat teased me about it mercilessly. It took a long time for me to live that down.” I stop pacing to face Sadie, digging in my heels literally and figuratively. “Besides, he may have been a professional athlete, but he’s a novice commentator. No damn way I’m working with him.”

“Okay, for real, mami?” Sadie tips her head, setting a shiny dark curtain of hair in motion. “You are all caps right now and I need you lower case.”

“Isn’t there someone else?” I perch on the end of the desk and kick my foot out to tap her knee. “Work with me here.”

“No, there isn’t.” Sadie glares at the seaweed like it’s compelling her to pop another strand of it in her mouth. “And I couldn’t do anything to change this if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

“You’re the producer. Of course, you have a say.”

“Not in this one. Came from the very top.” Sadie catches the heel of the shoe I’m banging against my desk. “Hey. It’s a coup to have Deck co-hosting. He’s been doing guest spots all season, and killing it. In addition to being a basketball genius, he’s articulate and willing to learn. He may be new to commentating, but he’s a natural on camera.”

“I know,” I admit grudgingly. “I’ve seen him.”

“So what’s the problem? I never heard much about the towel thing after the initial hoopla.”

“No, they ended up reassigning me, and after the initial round of teasing, it died down.” I extract my shoe from her grip and walk over to the window, no less impressed by the New York City view today than when I first landed this job and this office.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” Sadie says from behind me.

I don’t face her and maybe I don’t want to face myself.

There’s always been a huge question mark over MacKenzie Decker. What would have happened if I had gone against my better judgment and taken him up on his offer of “or something”? What if I hadn’t been reassigned from his team’s beat? All I know of him has been through the news and by reputation over the years, but every time I hear his name . . . I don’t know. Something stirs in me, and I’m not sure I’m quite ready for stirring.

So much has happened for us both, I know that encounter at his locker should be water long under the bridge. Deck won an MVP, two championships, and every award that counts. He got married. Divorced. Injured. Retired. I’m helming my own show on SportsCo, one of the biggest sports networks around. I was engaged. My brain short circuits before I go any further because I can’t deal with all the feelings today. Not about my fiancé.

“You seem on edge. Is it . . .” Sadie’s voice is careful in the way I’ve come to hate.

“Is it Will?”

She can be irritatingly clairvoyant at times.

“I’m fine.” My mouth autopilots the words, a knee-jerk response to the question people have asked me a thousand times in a thousand different ways over the last year.

“If you need to—”

“I said I’m fine, Sade.” I swivel a look over my shoulder that tells her not to push. For once she listens.

“Okay. Just saying I’m here. I know things have been—” Her mother’s ring tone, Ricky Martin’s “Livin’ la Vida Loca,” interrupts. “Hold on.”

Thank God for Mama and Ricky Martin. This is the last thing I want to discuss.

“What, Ma?” Sadie asks, phone pressed to her ear.

That’s the last English word from her mouth for the next five minutes since Sadie unleashes a torrent of Spanish to the woman on the other line. The only words I understand are “burrito” and “Atlanta Housewives.”

I’m grateful for this brief reprieve from our conversation. Bad enough I have to work with Mack Decker. Now the feelings and memories that come with Will rise up and try to steal any peace, any confidence I’ve found.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sadie says, easing back into English. “I’ll tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I demand, leaning my back against the cool glass of my window.

“How do you know she meant you?” Sadie lifts one perfectly threaded brow.