Page 106 of Playmaker

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not universally, no. And you’ve worn that same T-shirt for two weeks now.”

Had I?

“You’ve got circles under your eyes, your face is pale, and even your hair is, like, muted somehow.”

That wasn’t possible, was it? I grabbed a strand, looked at the red between my fingers. Was it less bright? “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“You’re miserable. And you don’t have to be.”

I held up my hand. “Don’t say it.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I’d be more miserable later.”

“You don’t know that there’d be a later.”

I turned for my bedroom. “There’s always a later.”

* * *

I rubbedmy hands over my eyes, trying to improve my concentration. I was at the office physically. But mentally? I’d been reading the same document for half an hour, and it wasn’t sinking in. A notification popped up on the screen.

A new client, Mr. Whittaker, was scheduled to meet me in the small boardroom at eleven o’clock. Wait, had I missed that before?

I messaged reception.

What is this Whittaker meeting about?

New client,transferring assets, worried about tax consequences.

For Whittaker’s sake,I hoped this wasn’t too complicated. I was going to have to take some kind of sleeping aid tonight, because I couldn’t function like this.

I grabbed a notepad and pen and my laptop to make my way to the boardroom. I stopped to get another cup of coffee at the break room. My client deserved my best, not the half-assed performance I’d been giving lately.

Darcy’s face popped into my head. Was I inflicting misery on myself needlessly? Should I have given Cooper a chance?

I blinked my roommate’s image away. This was not the time. Instead, I walked briskly down the hallway to the reserved room. I was early, the way I preferred. After setting everything down on the table, I opened my laptop and pulled up my cheat sheet—notes I’d made previously to remind myself of the major issues to consider for asset transfers. I didn’t know if my client was planning to transfer to his family, or a trust, or a foundation of some type, and those kinds of details were important to work out his best plan going forward.

Wait, had I seen a headline about a change to trust rules recently? I started a search just before I heard footsteps indicating someone was headed this way.

I looked up with my polite smile, only for my mouth to drop open when I realized Cooper was the man following the receptionist. The connections finally tweaked in my brain—WhittakerCooper.

I stood up, glaring at the man. “What the— What are you doing here?”

The receptionist smiled warmly at him and I wanted to shove her out of the room. “This is your appointment, Mr. Whittaker.” She raised an eyebrow at me, so she knew who he was.

Damned golf tournament and damned hockey player.

“Thank you, Elena. You can go now.”

She left slowly, casting a glance back at Cooper as she went. He, however, was looking at me.

For a moment, I just enjoyed seeing him again. Blond hair, blue eyes looking tired and wary, perfectly fitting suit and a polite smile. I wanted to walk over and wrap him in a hug and assure him everything would be okay. And that thought finally snapped me out of my stupor.

“Please sit down, Mr. Whittaker.”

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