“Well, as we have now established, Brock is a saint.” She was crying now. “Mark found out about the money. Assumed the worst and kicked me out. My sponsor was in Dallas, so…”
“Ah, you called Brock.” Guy nodded. “Yeah, he is turning out to be quite the hero of your story here.”
“He is.” She nodded. “Okay, the pictures. I was covered in makeup and slobber by the time we got to his place. This picture is him showing me that the shower handle sticks and how to jiggle it here. This one is me hugging and crying on him for coming to get me from downtown in the middle of the night. And that’s the next morning. I left in his clothes because mine were gross. Him standing there, like that? It’s either relief that he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore or, because he’s a sweetie, he’s hoping I don’t do something stupid.” She paused. “That’s it. There is nothing going on with us. His heart is taken, Guy, but not by me. Any woman who gets him, you better hold on tight because he’s a rare soul.”
Emmy was kicking the blankets back, earning a reproachful meow from Watson and a laugh from her sister. “Sorry, Watson. Mommy has to hurry.”
“Well, that takes care of that.” Guy nodded. “Let’s talk about this new clothing line you’re involved in.”
Krystal hit the pause button and the screen froze. “I think she’s telling the truth. I saw his face that day in the parking lot when you went to see him off. Yeah. She’s telling the truth.”
“I thought you hated him?” Emmy pulled open the dresser drawer, pulling out pants.
“I don’t think I do now.” Krystal slipped out of the bed. “Now, get your tush dressed, get your smile on, and go get your man.” She clapped her hands. “I mean, you are going to see him today, right? The whole singing at the halftime show during one of the biggest games this season?”
“Right.” Emmy nodded, slowing down. “He’ll already be at the field.” There wasn’t much point in hurrying over there. She’d see him at the game. Still, she wanted to see him. The sooner the better. She packed up her makeup and hair supplies and waited for Sawyer to come pick her up. When the black Suburban pulled up, she practically sprinted for the door.
“Guess you saw the show?” Travis asked when Emmy climbed into the Suburban.
“Is that why you’re here?” she asked, smiling, as Krystal and Jace climbed in after her.
“We’ve already established I’m in favor of watching you and Brock’s awkward exchanges. They’re painful—but highly entertaining.” Travis sat back.
“Did you bring popcorn this time?” Krystal rolled her eyes.
“It’s game day.” Travis shook his head. “We’ll buy it there.”
The whole ride, Emmy’s emotions alternated between pure joy and absolute terror. She hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt. That had to hurt. She should have asked him, straight out, instead of jumping to the same conclusions everyone else had. But Vanessa had said he was keeping her secrets…because he was Brock.
It was hard to stay calm through hair and makeup. She ran through a dozen different scenarios, but none of them felt right. Hopefully, when they were face-to-face, she’d know the right thing to say.
“You look incredible,” Krystal said, taking her hand and spinning her around. “Is this the disco-ball dress Travis was talking about?”
Emmy laughed. “Yep.”
“I didn’t think I’d like it, but I do.” Krystal nodded. “You look amazing.”
“I have, what, ten minutes?” Emmy glanced at the clock on the wall, then her reflection. “Or I could wait…”
“Go,” Krystal said. “Hurry.”
Emmy Lou moved as quickly as the formfitting dress allowed, with Sawyer at her side. She smiled and waved, but she tried to keep her head down until she reached the pressroom that fed into the tunnel.
The players were lining up at the tunnel entrance, wearing their game face and getting their minds in the zone. She stood on her tiptoes, looking all over for number eighty-eight.
“Miss King?” Coach McCoy came up behind her. “You know the game is about to start?”
“Yes, sir.” Her heart fell. “Sorry…”
He sighed loudly. “He’s coming now. Good news?” He waited for her to nod. “Good. Can’t have him hearing bad news before a game. Well, from the look on your face, he’s going to want to hear this.” He glanced at his watch. “One minute. Two tops.”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded, standing aside while Gene Byrd and RJ trotted through.
Brock was next. Head down, helmet in his hand, he was…the man she loved. I love you so much.
* * *
Emmy Lou. Sparkling and beautiful and staring at him. He clenched his jaw, holding back all the things he wanted to say. “Emmy.”