Page 43 of A Game Plan for Love

Declan: And it will be your last bad date.

Me: Is that a promise?

Declan: It can be.

If he makes the promise, I know he would keep it, and a large part of me wants him to.

CHAPTER 12

Bloom – The Paper Kites

Declan

Asoftfallbreezemovesthrough Deon and Nathalie’s large, manicured backyard, filling the air with the scent of lilacs permeating from the large bushes lining the house. Deon spared no expense with his new patio—one side home to a small herb garden, a massive built-in fireplace in the center, and the opposite side equipped with a grill and a ten-person outdoor dining table.

It’s the perfect place to host, which is how I know Nathalie chose the design. He would never select something thatencouragedpeople to visit.

Sawyer drops a beer on the table in front of me before sitting in an open deck chair. Nathalie sits on the small loveseat beside me, curled beneath a thin blanket, and Maren lies back on a reclining chair, the picture of bliss.

The best part about having a Thursday night game, like we did this week, is the few days we get off on the weekend. Even though this get-together is an obvious check-in to make sure I’m surviving, it’s a beautiful day outside, and I’ve already seen a Stellar’s Jay and two Black-capped Chickadees.

Deon and Nathalie have prime bird-watching real estate.

“Where’s my husband?” Sawyer asks, “He said he would bring out the cheese tray ten minutes ago.”

“Well…it was sitting right next to a batch of cookies,” Nathalie says. “And he’s in there with no supervision.”

“Oh, no.” Sawyer groans. “He ate three on the way here.”

Henry is a lost cause, and so are the cookies. On the opposite end of the patio, Deon and Jack work to set up the temperature probe connected to the grill. Deon threw in the towel and now sits and watches while Jack explains the function of each knob and button.

“Have you guys finished the book for Book Club?” Nathalie asks, sipping on a seltzer.

Maren lifts her sunglasses onto her forehead. “No. And don’t spoil it.”

“That happenedonetime,” Nathalie grumbles.

“Yeah, but you spoiled the plot twist no one was expecting,” Sawyer adds.

“Fine. I won’t talk about it.”

“I finished it,” I admit, “So good. We can discuss later.”

I wink, and Nathalie shoves my shoulder.

I finished the book last week, trying to keep my mind occupied instead of straying to thoughts of Addie. It worked until she texted me.

There’s no playbook for what’s happening between us. It’s confusing and unclear, but I crave her presence and laughter, and every time I see her, I feel the zap in my chest. When I was a rookie, there was no pressure. I dated because I could, and because, for the first time, I felt wanted.

And it went to my head.

I made poor decisions, and hurt people, and it took a long time to reconcile who I was with who I wanted to be.

When I started dating again after some time speaking with Sharon, it was purposeful. Each date was meant to discover if I had a connection with someone. But there was no pressure because there was never any zing.

With Addie, there’s an undercurrent of electricity every time we’re in the same room. My pulse races, and my stomach fills with nerves. It’s like I’m sprinting downfield, arms stretched out, hoping a Hail Mary falls into my awaiting palms.

“What are you thinking about?” Sawyer asks when I’m quiet for too long.

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