Holy shit was right.
New client was tall and dark and handsome. New client had muscles on muscles, and a dark, forbidding expression that sent a shiver down my spine.
"I know him," Lia murmured as she came to stand next to Isabel. "He was an MMA fighter. Finn loved watching his fights."
Just before he approached Amy, he glanced at us, eyes touching briefly on Isabel, before he dismissed us completely.
I heard Iz suck in a breath. "Yeah, he was. His wife just died, so he retired to take care of his daughter."
That cast a quiet hush over the four of us.
"You okay, Iz?" Claire asked.
She blinked. "Yeah. We're done, right?"
I exchanged glances with Lia and Claire, who gave me identical shrugs. "Yeah, we're done. I should go home to shower and pack anyway."
"When do you leave?" Lia asked.
"I have about three hours. But we're taking a private plane, so I can get to the air strip right before we take off and be fine."
"Baller." Claire grinned.
"Ha. Yeah, I am."
Isabel started picking up around the bags, and her cheeks were bright pink.
"What's her deal?" I whispered.
Lia shrugged again. "Who knows. I'd ask but …" Her voice trailed off, and we all knew why.
We could ask, but unless Isabel wanted to share, she wouldn't tell us shit.
"Maybe she was a fan of his," Claire said, pointing at Mr. Tall, Dark and Scary-looking.
"Maybe." I sighed. "Okay. Tell me that I'll be fine this weekend."
“You will,” Claire said. “No matter what happens, you’ll be fine.”
Lia grabbed my shoulders, serious face in place. "You can do this. He's just a big dumb football player who won't remember you when he's gone from Washington, which will probably be soon since players are traded all the time."
Claire's mouth fell open. "You are terrible at this,” she told her twin.
My mouth screwed up like I had sucked on a lemon. "Thanks."
I gave all three of them hugs and made my way home to shower and pack.
As I did those things, Lia's poorly delivered words banged around my head like it was an empty crate.
She was wrong. He wasn't dumb, and he wouldn't forget me.
But she was also right. He could leave at any time, given his abrupt exit from Miami.
That still wasn’t justification enough to put my job on the line. But it did add a certain edge to my thoughts, an urgency that I couldn’t deny as I packed my suitcase.
My history with Noah had started off with a poorly thought out decision, one that was made without heeding any possible consequences, and ended—for me, at least—in humiliation and tears.
We were both older and wiser, but I couldn’t say we were any less stubborn, not in the ways that counted.
Noah was decisive and self-controlled. His journey to making a choice, no matter how big or small, was quick and instinctual. It was why he was a great player. All the great players had that in common. If you took the time to pause and second-guess, someone else would move past you.
In his new house, he’d decided that kissing me was his next course of action, and he never wavered. Kissing him back had felt amazing, but there’d still been a niggling sensation in the back of my head, a voice that I hadn’t quite been able to mute.
I zipped up the side of my suitcase slowly.
Could I walk into this weekend and not allow that voice to hold me back?
What I wouldn’t do was be a typical football groupie, begging for whatever scraps he’d allow me.
And I wouldn’t ask him to sacrifice something he wasn’t ready to sacrifice. I respected his drive more than that. Just as he respected me enough to stop when I’d asked.
The choice was mine.
I could take this weekend and own the opportunity for what it was. A chance, even if it was my only one, to finally bring this tangled history with Noah full circle. I could clearly, and deliberately, take a step into action and understand the weight of what I was doing, if he got on that plane and wasn’t shutting me out completely.
Noah's career, my career, was so much bigger than anything we were working on that weekend. I wasn't even sure that this Amazon documentary would make a highlight reel by the time he retired. Which also meant my time with him was short within the context of his career.
A window to finish something we’d started a very, very long time ago.
The comparison had me smiling because a window is what got us into this mess in the first place. His behavior back then had guided my own, and as I finished up, I knew I’d treat this weekend no differently.