“So you made sure I didn’t see any of this stuff?”
“It’s my job to keep my clients focused on the game. If that means I have to remove the little distractions that pop up along the way, I’m not above picking up a thresher.” She wriggled her fingers. “I have my spies set up in all aspects of my clients’ lives: housekeepers, security personnel, PAs, even a coach or two. It’s nothing personal, Jordan. It’s good business.”
Queasiness washed over him. “You know, Paris, it’s too bad you released me from my contract when the surgeons declared my career over. I would have delighted in firing your ass right now.”
Leaving her sputtering, he headed away from the field where the service continued, away from the memorial garden where, soon, Bertie’s likeness would be enshrined.
Jordan had always teased Cam about how much she disliked Paris. Turned out, she was right to be suspicious.
Her words on the dais came back to him. Because whether you believe me or not, I still love you.
He was an idiot. Cam might have turned down his marriage proposal, but she’d never stopped loving him. He would need a big play to win her back.
And he’d need it fast.
Chapter 14
She had no idea how she made it to the very last mourner without breaking into tears. Her own fault, really. Because despite the multitude of reasons she had to hate Jordan, she still loved him and always would. What a pathetic loser she was.
She studied the crowd on the dais and the grounds. How many of these people had noticed how quickly he’d abandoned her when Paris popped up? Paris, who’d dumped him when an injury ruined his football career, because he was no longer useful to her. Maybe that’s where she always went wrong. Instead of kicking him to the curb and letting him rot there, she kept welcoming him back into her life. Maybe men were only interested in the women who treated them like garbage.
Okay, fine. She would let him go. This time, for good. She’d survived his departure before. She could do it again. Even if she didn’t have Bertie to fall back on this time. Bertie had given her the tools to live her life with passion. Now it was up to her to follow his phenomenal example.
As the crowd began to disperse, she detoured past her mother and Mr. Ellison to exit the makeshift platform.
“Cam?” Mr. Ellison’s voice stopped her at the first step.
She turned and waited for him to approach. “Your mother and I are going to Ruby’s for lunch. Would you like to join us?”
Cam looked past him to where her mother stood, hands twisting as she watched their interaction while desperately trying to feign indifference.
“For what it’s worth,” Mr. Ellison whispered, “she’s sorry. She knows she went too far last time.”
As big a step as Mom had taken in admitting her mistake, Cam shook her head. “I wish I could say that’s good enough for me, but she went too far about a thousand miles ago. Maybe someday, we can mend our issues. But for now, I think we’re both better off leaving some distance between us. Thanks for the invitation, though.”
He offered her a curt nod, his smile nowhere near happy. “I understand. You can divorce a spouse for lots of reasons, but a parent...?” He shrugged.
She took his hand. “You’re a nice man. I wish you and my mother years of happiness together.”
Before he could say anything else, she descended the stairs and stood on the field. Here was where both her father and Bertie spent so many of their happiest days.
Val appeared at her side. “Hey. You okay?”
She nodded. “I will be, I think. I’ll miss him, though.”
“Which one? Bertie or Jordan?”
The question jolted her. “Oh, God. You heard that conversation?”
Val wrapped an arm around her shoulder and whispered, “Cam, everyone in the stadium heard you. You were standing right next to a hot mic.”
Well, crap. Could this day get any worse? She glanced down at the ground, wishing for a hole to open up and swallow her. But the wish was short-lived.
Straightening her shoulders, she flashed Val a bright smile. “You know what? It’s okay. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m done playing Little Orphan Cammie for the press and for everyone else.” She stole a glance at her mother and Mr. Ellison, making their way off the dais. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I run a multi-million dollar foundation. I’m nobody’s victim. It’s about time I stopped acting like one. I love Jordan. Turns out, he doesn’t love me back. I’m not the first person in New York to suffer from unrequited love; I won’t be the last.”
Val’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly and gave a curt nod. “Okay, then, grown-ass woman. What happens now?”
“This.” On a whim, she took off her shoes and allowed her bare feet to touch the turf all the men she’d loved had once run upon—each at different times.
To her delight, Val followed suit.
“When I was a kid,” she told Val, “my dad would bring me here to play two-hand-touch with his teammates’ kids. God, it was so much fun!”
The memories evoked all of her senses: the sound of children’s laughter, the smell of dirt and grass, the rough texture of the football, the indulgent smiles on the grownups’ faces, spicy hot dogs covered in mustard washed down with sugary sodas. Her childhood might have been odd, but at times, it had been a lot of fun.
She took a deep breath in, tilted her face toward the sun, and let the spirit of the men who’d guided her through her formative years fill the empty places in her heart. She’d go on. She had a foundation to run—and a life to live.
“Come on,” Val said. “I’ll race you to the end zone.”
“You’re on! Loser buys the first round at Brady’s Place. On
