Only One Chance (Only One 2)

“Okay, the suspense is killing me,” I say when I grab my fork and knife and cut into the steak.

“What’s with the bowl?” I look at him and take a bite of the steak, the meat melting on my tongue.

“That,” he says, grabbing his own fork and knife and cutting into his steak and popping a piece into his mouth, “is the question bowl.”

“A question bowl?” I ask, taking another bite of the steak.

“It’s to get to know each other,” he says, and I look at him, shocked that he set this up. “Figured this is one way to get to know you.” He winks at me. I have never had a guy try this hard. I have never had a guy want to try this hard. And before he even says the next line, I already know that I’m in uncharted territory. “And it’ll be a step to you giving me a chance.”Chapter 14MillerI watch her face as I say the words. “And it’ll be a step to you giving me a chance.” She is mid chew when I say it, and she just looks at me. I know I should go easy, but I finally have my chance to lay it out on the line. “Besides, all the other things I’ve tried to get your attention with have fallen flat.” I ignore my sweaty palms, trying to stay cool, calm, and collected, and I hope to fuck she can’t hear the pounding of my heart.

“By getting my attention,” she says now, cutting her steak roughly. I can tell by her tone that nothing good is going to come from this. “Was it flirting with me and leaving with a different woman each time?” She looks up at me. “I mean, that first time I met you. I left you, and by the time I finished peeing, you were dry humping someone by the bathroom door.”

My mouth hangs open now. “I’m not just about the women,” I tell her and cut my own steak. “Do you want me to grab a paper, or do you want to go first?”

“Did you actually write the questions?” she asks before she takes another bite.

“I did,” I tell her. “This morning when I was having coffee.”

Her eyes go back to looking at her plate and coming up. She puts down her fork and knife and puts her hand in the bowl to grab a piece of paper. “So I ask you this question, and then do I have to answer it?”

“If you want to,” I tell her. “What’s the first question?”

“What do you like to do on your day off?” she asks.

“Is it off-season or during the season?” I counter her, and she sits back in the chair. “Off-season just chill at home and watch a couple of movies. During the season, same,” I say, chewing a piece of steak. “What about you?”

“On my day off, I usually go for a run, depending on how hot it is, and then I hit up a market, and then”—she looks down—“I like to bake.”

“Really?” I say, shocked. “Baking like Grandma Nancy’s brownies or baking like banana bread?”

She laughs now. “My favorite is key lime pie with a graham cracker crust.”

“Will you marry me?” I ask, laughing, and she shakes her head, putting down the piece of paper on the table. “My turn.” I pick a paper out of the bowl and open it. “Name a moment that changed your life.”

“My parents dying,” she says right away. “Even though I was too young to understand it or even realize it, it changed my life.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, putting the paper down and placing my hand on hers. “I didn’t know.”

“I sometimes wonder how different my life would be if they were still alive,” she says. “Now don’t get me wrong, Grandma Nancy was the best, and I wouldn’t change her for the world. But I sometimes wonder if I would even still be in Dallas if they were alive.” I watch her eyes blink away tears.

“You’re a strong, strong woman,” I say, and she doesn’t say anything.

“So what is yours?” I can see her trying to take the focus off herself.

“That’s easy.”

“I swear.” She grabs the glass of wine. “If you say this date, I’m going to drown you in the pool.”

I slap my hand on the table and laugh. “For the record, that wasn’t what I was going to say.” I smile when she glares at me. “Seventeen years old. Second overtime period, game-winning goal in the playoffs.” I think back to that moment. “There was a scout in the stands, and I didn’t even know.”

“That must have been the best night,” she says, and I love that she gets it. “I can’t imagine.”

“It was a good one,” I say. “Your turn.” I point at the bowl. She sits up and mixes the papers around.