Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

Ah, the guilt trip.

“I was really only here for a day.” I stay calm as I sit at a table with him.

“But that was Thursday?” He offers a questioning smile, asking why I didn’t reach out sooner.

I don’t take the bait. I home in on the things Carla and I have talked about. You don’t have to engage. “Yes. And then I had business to take care of. So I stayed an extra day,” I explain.

His eyebrows shoot up. “What sort of business? New sponsorship deal?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“You’re still getting a ton of those?”

“I am.” I rap on the table. “Knock on wood.”

He lifts his coffee cup, like he’s toasting to me. “I’m proud that you’ve been able to strike so many business deals.”

For a brief second, I wonder if there’s subtext there. If he’s waiting for me to offer up money. But that’s not why I’m here today. I didn’t say yes to figure him out. I said yes to figure me out. “What are you doing in the city today?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Seeing a new woman.”

“And she lives nearby?”

He nods. “Not too far. She’s over in the Outer Sunset. I had some business here in the hood, but I’m heading back there after this.”

“Is it going well with her?”

“I met her at AA,” he says, and I don’t even know if he’s sober again, if he’s a newcomer once more to the program, but I’m not going to ask. I don’t know if I’ll hear the truth from him anyway, and I don’t need his sobriety to be happy. I want it for him, but I don’t need it for me. “She just got her two-month chip,” he adds.

That’s a red flag. I’ve done my research too, talked about AA with Carla. Dating a newcomer to the program isn’t advised. Which tells me Dad’s more interested in what he wants than her sobriety. But again, this is not my battle. I can’t micromanage his program or his life. “I hope it works out for you both, Dad,” I say, though I doubt it will.

He spends the next thirty minutes telling me about Tricia. What a wonderful woman she is. How he wants to change for her. How he thinks she’s the one. How grateful he is, too, that I made time for him today.

“Listen, you’re probably sick of hearing this from me,” he says. “But I wanted to say I was sorry for what happened a couple years ago. When I went to Vegas with some friends. Lost all that money. Asked you for help. I need to stop asking you for money.”

That surprises me—his out-of-the-blue apology.

But then, it doesn’t.

Amends is a seesaw for him.

I’ve been up and down on each end of it.

I try to remember what Carla would say. Just because you accept his apology doesn’t mean you have to let him into your life. You can love him without enabling him.

“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it,” I say, and then it’s time to go.

I say goodbye on the street as I head to Grant’s car, parked a few feet away. My dad whistles at the Tesla. “Nice wheels. Bet that wouldn’t take long to get to the Outer Sunset.”

I toss the keys up in my hand. “Probably not. Bye, Dad,” I say, then wave goodbye. He blinks, then waves too, and I get in the car.

I don’t offer him a ride.

Maybe that makes me a dick. Or maybe it means I’m finally learning some boundaries.

On the way to Grant’s house, I stop at Fog City Bakery and grab a sesame bagel.





32





Grant





For the record, I am an excellent sleeper. I can crash anywhere.

Team plane? Not a problem.

Any hotel on the road? I’m down for the count in seconds.

My own bed on a Saturday morning?

There is literally no place I’d rather be.

That’s why it pisses me off that my brain has a motherfucking bee in it right now. It’s flapping its wings, whispering dangerous thoughts.

Check your phone.

Maybe he sent you a breakup text.

Don’t check your phone.

He probably took off for New York without saying goodbye.

I figured, stupidly, that I could sleep through Declan’s morning outing to see his father. Like it was just a dream. I’d wake up and he’d be back kissing me.

But that’s not what happens. I can’t fall asleep again. Still, I’m glad he went. This is a test.

It’s not a test for Declan though.

It’s for me.

Can I trust him to return? Can I trust he won’t break my heart again?

I want to pass the trust test so badly.

Staying busy will help.

I get out of bed, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and pull on some hot briefs—because positive thinking—and a pair of gym shorts—because I’m meeting Crosby and Holden for a workout later. I pad downstairs to the kitchen and start some coffee. When it brews, I pour the mug, go to my couch, grab my tablet, and catch up on sports news. The Dragons still don’t have a new manager. Our cross-town rival team has been cleaning house lately, and the last piece of the puzzle is a new skipper. Holden’s been antsy, hoping for one.

When I check the clock, it’s been forty-five minutes since Declan took off, and my heart grows a little more restless every second.