Page 3 of Sidelined By Love

“Her dad owns the team. It’s not like this is the first game she’s been to.”

But this time is different. This time she’s not famous for the movie poster she’s on. She’s famous for a very public catfight with her boyfriend’s wife. And an angry director blaming her for having to recast and reshoot his movie.

“Come on, guys.” I pound them both on the shoulder and give them my QB voice, the one I use to make sure they can hear me even when we play in notoriously loud stadiums. Including our home field here in Colorado Springs. “We’ve got a game to win.”

They both give the box seats another long look.

Card flexes his not insubstantial arms, which sacked more quarterbacks last season than any other defensive end in the league. “Right. First we win. Then we chat up Zoe.”

Two

Zoe

Isee you made the front page ofThe Post. Again.”

PeopleandUs Weekly,too. Thank you very much.

Not that reminding my dad of that fact is going to help the situation. Without a doubt, his new wife, his assistant, and his lawyer have all beat me to the big reveal.

“Good to see you, too.” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my tongue. Especially when he can’t even be bothered to more than glance my way. He’s looking out over the field, his arms crossed and narrow shoulders stiff beneath a tailored suit. His scowl is the stuff of legend, at least among the Peebles women. And I think even my mom would be impressed with this one.

The starched fabric of his jacket twitches at his collar, but he still doesn’t condescend to look over his shoulder again.

Heaven forbid he actually greet his daughter with an embrace. Even one as frigid as a Rocky Mountain winter would be better than his cold shoulder.

Then again, I’ve clearly embarrassed him. And our family name. And if he tries hard enough, I bet he could blame last week’s loss to the Bills on me. Even if I was on a film set in South Africa, still blissfully clueless about my future in the tabloids.

Truth be told, I’d rather be anywhere other than this suite—a full-on tribute to leather and luxury. But I didn’t have much of a choice. If I had ignored my dad’s summons, he would have sent his driver over to hassle Nan until I showed up.

No way am I going to make life harder for Agatha Peebles, the only person who bothered to reach out to me after that video went viral. The only person kind enough to offer me a place to stay after my director dismissed me from set. The only member of my family not interested in what I can do for them.

So, here I stand, shifting from one high heel to the other. Waiting. For who knows how long. I have no idea what for. His assistant texted me only one line.

Your father will see you before the game today.

Very paternal, Dad. Thanks.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not, really.

But just because he lives up to my expectations doesn’t lessen the sting. It’s right in the middle of my chest, straight over my heart and beneath the buttons of my blue Oxford. It squeezes like a fist, and I pinch my eyes closed against it, forcing myself to stand perfectly still.

He wants me to react. To defend myself or start an argument that he will insist on winning.

Hecan wait for that.

Silence hangs heavy in the air—save for the fifty thousand screaming fans filling the stadium. As the team runs out of the tunnel through a haze of smoke and fireworks, the volume surges until the windows rattle. Dad’s scowl eases for a brief moment. It’s nowhere near a smile. But it’s a little less severe.

Until it’s not.

“This is getting ridiculous, Zoe.”

Why, yes, Dad. I couldn’t agree more.

I too think it’s ridiculous that Marissa Kellyn thought it was okay to come up to me in the middle of a restaurant, slap my face, and accuse me of trying to break up her marriage.

For the record, I did not know she was married. Or more accurately, I did not know she existed until the dessert course that night. And I sure didn’t know that Joe Kellyn was married. He failed to tell me that any one of the three million times he asked me out before I decided to give him a chance.

My cheeks flush hot as I feel the imprint of Marissa’s hand on my face all over again, tears stinging my eyes just like they did five days ago.

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