Tossing my bag on the floor in the corner, I grab one of the many Sharpies that Sally has laid out for me and get to work. I sign ten or so jerseys and at least double that in T-shirts before I sign a few balls. I’m just getting ready to start signing the stack of posters, at least a hundred if not more, when the door opens. I’m surprised to see Mrs. Stamper, the team owner’s wife, standing in the doorway.
“Landon,” she greets, gliding into the room like her shit doesn’t stink.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile, not a truly genuine smile, not like the ones I get from Emma. “Mrs. Stamper.”
“A word?” she asks, closing the door.
This is the smaller conference room so there are no windows and I’m suddenly on edge. Bridgett Stamper is not the kind of woman who likes to be told no. “What can I do for you?” I ask her.
“I’m going to cut right to the chase. You need to end things with your girl toy.”
What. The. Fuck? “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. End it.”
“No.” I drop the Sharpie and cross my arms over my chest. “You can’t control what I do in my personal life.”
“Oh, but I can. You see. I don’t like her. I don’t want her around. I can make your life hell, even trade you.”
“Bullshit. You don’t run this team, Joseph does.” I stay rooted in my seat, even though I want to get the fuck out of this room with her. This is so out of left field, I never could have seen this coming.
“Are you willing to risk your career for some piece of ass?” she sneers.
“That piece of ass is the love of my life. You can threaten me with whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“Oh, but you should. You see, my husband, he likes to make me happy.” Her index finger, with a nail that seems even longer and painted blood red, draws a line on the table as she inches closer. I’m out of my seat and moving to the other side of the room before she reaches me. I don’t want to be anywhere near her.
“You don’t even know Emma. How could you possibly hate her?” Hell, how could anyone? She’s the kindest person and most real I’ve ever met.
“I don’t like the way she looks at my husband.”
“Enlighten me. How exactly does she look at him?” I was with Em when she met Joseph and Bridgett, and most of that time she was looking at me.
“Like she can take him away from me.” Something passes in her eyes, but I can’t explain it.
“That’s crazy.”
“I know what I saw. You have until the end of the weekend to end it and announce it publicly or you’ll regret it.”
“Fuck you.”
Her eyes rake over my body, making me feel filthy and ready for another shower. “We could arrange that too. I could show you what being with a real woman is like.” She licks her lips and I want to puke.
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Pity, we’d be good together. Regardless, you know my terms. Make it happen or you will be traded. As for your little girlfriend, I’ll make sure she wants nothing to do with you.”
“Fuck. You,” I say again, because who in the fuck does this woman think she is?
She cackles, a sound so high pitched it feels as though it could make your ears bleed. “I’ve bent over backward to be where I am and I’m not letting you and that little mouse of yours ruin it for me. Do it or else. You have until Saturday night at midnight.” She turns and walks out the door. She’s gone just as quickly as she arrived and I’m left standing here with my mouth hanging open at her audacity, with anger coursing through me. I don’t give a fuck what she says. I’m not losing Emma. Not for her, not for her husband, not for the team, or football. Emma comes first.
It’s a startling revelation for me. I knew I loved her, but the depth of my feelings has never really struck until this moment. I love Emma more than I love the game of football. I meant it when I said I don’t give a fuck what she does to me or my career. Emma is the one thing in my life I won’t give up. Ever.
Taking a few minutes to calm the hell down, I go back to the stack of posters and quickly work my way through scribbling my name and number on each of them. When the last poster is signed, I grab my bag and storm out of the room. Sally is still at her desk and waves at me, but she doesn’t say anything. I’m sure the expression on my face says it all.
As soon as I’m in my SUV, I call Emma. “Hey, how was practice?” she greets me.
Closing my eyes, I let my head rest back against the headrest in my SUV, letting her voice wash over me. “It was good. Stayed back and ran a few routes with Kaden. I had to sign a few things for some fan mail after that.” I’m going to tell her about Bridgett’s little visit, just not over the phone. I need her in my arms when I tell her so she knows, so she can feel that I’m not worried. I need her to see that as long as I have her, my life with be complete.
“You sound tired,” she comments.
“A long day. How’s work?”
“It’s going. Buckwheat is
