The Billionaire Player (In Too Deep)

CHAPTER48

LARISA

After having spent so much time looking Tanner up online to find the pictures and pieces I’d wanted for the baseball wall, my computer now thought I was interested in him. As a result, articles about him were automatically included in my news feed on my phone, and whenever I opened my browser on my computer, there he was.

It was frustrating, but as often as I’d stared at the I’m not interested in this option to disable the stories from coming through, I just hadn’t been able to click on it. Frankly, I was interested in this. The computer had gotten it absolutely right. It simply didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to be interested anymore.

I couldn’t blame it, though. My heart hadn’t quite gotten the message yet either. Someone had to break the news to it and to the internet that I was not, in fact, allowed to be interested in what he was doing anymore.

Since he hadn’t really been in the news much when I’d started looking him up, I hadn’t even really noticed that the algorithm had included him in subjects I wanted to read about. Now, however, he’d invested in some big e-sports tournament coming up, and he was popping up in articles and opinion pieces about it here and there.

The here and there felt like everywhere to me since my phone seemed to have made it its personal mission to ensure I didn’t miss a single word written about him. It seemed he’d made his big debut as a billionaire with this investment and was now officially known for something other than being a retired baseball player who’d struck gold with cryptocurrency.

I knew that I shouldn’t have been reading the articles. It wasn’t good for me or my resolve to put him behind me, but it was starting to look like I had a previously undiscovered masochistic streak since I couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone.

Every damn time one of those mentions about him appeared in my feed, I promised myself I wouldn’t read it this time. An hour or two later, I’d find myself happily and attentively devouring every last shred of information contained in the article about him.

I was a hopeless case. In the past, I’d considered myself a strong woman. I worked hard, I did my thing, and I didn’t waste my time pining over players who had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Well, no more.

I’d joined the ranks of the people who pined. And also the ranks of the people who’d screwed up a job so badly that they’d never get over it. It’s great. Just great. Come to the dark side, they said. We have cookies.

I didn’t even really fucking like cookies. Yet here I was, on the proverbial dark side, chomping down on their stupid cookies and drinking the Kool-Aid, too. Possibly the worst part of it was that I wasn’t overly concerned about myself for doing it. No, instead of worrying about myself and considering professional intervention, the worst part was that, selfishly, I was just so glad that none of the photos of him ever featured other women.

It had been just over a week since I’d last seen him, and I knew a guy like him wouldn’t be single for long. Just because there wasn’t photographic evidence of it didn’t mean that he wasn’t hooking up with half the city, but it helped me believe that maybe he wasn’t.

Once he started making appearances in the media with other women, though, that was going to hurt. I knew I was just going to have to suck it up, but it was easier said than done.

Ultimately, whatever I’d thought might’ve been brewing between us was over now, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was like a disease. I had the Tanner’s, and I had it bad.

For the past week, I’d been doing my best to focus on work. It had been one of the most productive weeks I’d had in a very long time, but the other downside to the Tanner situation was that I now second-guessed every design decision I made for a client. I couldn’t afford to screw up that badly again, and I was determined to find my way back to the top of my game.

To that end, I’d developed an all-new client questionnaire and I would never again listen to a client who told me they wanted the end result to be a surprise. My new questionnaire was extensive, and it included absolutely everything I could possibly think of to ask. I used to think I was thorough, but now I knew any client would be hard pressed to find a designer who was as thorough as I was. If my new comprehensive list of questions couldn’t get to the bottom of exactly what a client wanted, nothing could.

Last night had been his housewarming party. I’d been thinking about it nonstop from five p.m., which was when the invitation he must’ve erroneously sent me had stated the festivities would begin. Front and center in my mind had been what his guests must be saying about the house and the person who’d done the interior.

If Tanner hated it, I was pretty sure every other person he knew would hate it too. These things tended to work that way. As soon as one person pointed out something they didn’t like, others started picking up on things they didn’t, either. There were usually platitudes about it being fine or that a person would get used to it, but the general impression that people went away with wasn’t wonderful.

That fact was weighing heavily on mind, knowing that he’d had people over there for the first time and everyone had likely been talking about the mistakes I’d made. Even when I still didn’t know what those mistakes had been.

I’d also come to the realization that it was going to be damn near impossible regaining my confidence in my designs without knowing what had gone wrong. Since the only way of finding out was talking to him, though, I’d resigned myself to not knowing. I’d just have to get the hell over it.

With that thought in mind, I closed the latest article I’d been reading about him and once again promised myself that it would be the last. I sat back in my chair, wondering what to do with the rest of the weekend. I wanted to work, but I was too preoccupied with all things Tanner to actually do it.

My computer and all my programs were open, but every time I started on something, I remembered the look on his face as the tour progressed and I stopped. It was like I had the designer’s version of writer’s block.

All week, I’d been fighting against it, but with the housewarming having been last night, I just kept imagining that same look on everyone else’s faces, and because of that, I couldn’t seem to get past that mental block today.

I’d not only let Tanner down but Stephanie as well. She’d recommended me to him, and she must have kicked herself—hard—when she’d walked in and saw what an utter disaster it had been. Not that I felt like it was an utter disaster, but that look on his face had said otherwise.

I groaned out loud. The disappointment in myself that I’d been living with all week rose up again, just as strong as it had been that very first day. Covering my face in my hands, I let out a muffled scream.

I just can’t believe it ended like that. What in the actual fuck went wrong?I’d gone over every inch of my design with a fine-toothed comb, and I really couldn’t seem to get to the bottom of it.

Just as I lowered my hands, my phone rang. I lunged for it, welcoming the distraction. It didn’t even matter who it was. I just needed to think about something—anything—else. Even if it was a call center agent wanting to sell me something, I was about to make a new best friend.

Tell me your life story, call center agent. Start at the beginning and tell me every good and bad thing that has ever happened to you. Today, you won’t get hostility and annoyance on the other end of the line. No. Today, your call shall be celebrated and we’ll form a bond that will last forevermore.

For the first time in my life, I was also disappointed that it wasn’t a suspected spam call. I’d kind of been looking forward to getting to know my new best friend. On the other hand, a call from my current best friend was probably even better.