Kicking Reality

“Sorry Mom and Dad,” Ash warns them before turning back to me. “You picked someone up, didn’t you? Was it that blonde with the low-cut tank and short mini that asked where you were staying?”

“Which blonde?” I screw my face up, pretending to be interested.

“Oh yeah,” Emmy adds with much delight. She pushes her tongue against her cheek, watching me with a wide smirk. “The blonde that offered you her room key. She said she was kinky and wanted to tie you up. Sorry Mom and Dad.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You soooo got laid,” Emmy teases. “She would have tired your little socks off.”

Ash laughs, stealing the last sausage off the plate. “Good. You need a good screw after your dry hump. Especially after your breakup with Louisa.”

He continues to laugh at the same time that Emmy’s face changes. It’s a look of curiosity, and something else I can’t figure out.

“Who’s Louisa?” Emmy questions, clearing her throat.

“Remember I told you about her?” Abbi intervenes. “The love of Logan’s life.”

I’m about to stop that statement until Ash interrupts. “You were about to marry her. Did I tell you I ran into her last week? I don’t know why I forgot to tell you. She broke up with what’s-his-face and asked about you.”

If that had happened three months ago, I would have gladly called her and picked things up from where we left it. But I sat here, unaffected by what he told me and more worried by Emmy’s quiet reaction. I hated the fact that I couldn’t read her; a blank expression on her face.

“Honestly, bro. She was great,” Ash continues. “Yeah, I know I disliked her but you were happy with her. Looking back now, I’d never seen you happy with anyone besides her.”

“Second chances don’t come often,” Abbi says, placing her arm on mine.

“Abbi, leave the boy alone. He has time to worry about a relationship later. The next four weeks is training and games and I don’t want anyone distracting him,” Chris says sharply.

Emerson refuses to look my way, removing the napkin from her lap. “I’m going to head back to the hotel, we have one final shoot today and then we fly out tomorrow.”

Abbi and Chris stand up, hugging her before she turns to congratulate Ash then waves across the table to me—without any eye contact—and says congratulations.

Moving her chair into the table, she turns around and hurries out of the restaurant.

I think on my feet about an excuse to use, then tell them I accidently handed her my credit card last night to buy drinks and needed to get it off her. I chase her down the street before she hops into a cab.

“What was that back there?” I say out of breath.

“I’m tired.”

“You’re not getting off that easily.”

She motions her eyes across the street where a man stands with a camera taking photos of us. I smile, pretending everything is okay then grit through my teeth asking again.

“I don’t know, Logan. Try sitting at a table hearing about the woman that is the love of your life suddenly wanting you back.”

“C’mon.” I brush it off like it’s nothing because it was nothing. “Are you seriously believing what Ash said?”

“Why would he lie, huh?” She laughs to herself. “Why would Ash make that stuff up? You know what, don’t even answer.”

“Emerson, c’mon.” I beg her to stop.

“No, Logan. You’ve got the love of your life waiting for you. Better go find her.”

The window winds up and the cab drives away, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk. The paparazzi run across the road, dodging traffic and almost getting run over by a bus. They demand me to answer their impromptu questions, and I answer only to distract myself.

“How did it feel to win last night?”

“Is it true that Real Madrid offered you a position next season?”