Page 166 of Biggest Player
“I love Margot. Not only is she amazing, but she’s smart, funny, and incredibly strong. I’ve never met anyone like her—no one has ever told me to my face that I suck. She swept me off my feet.”
She smacks me, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh my God, I did not tell you you suck to your face.”
I shrug. “Not in those words, but you did call me an asshole at least a dozen times after we just met.”
“That’s true.” She flips her hair, laughing.
“Is this your way of flirting?” Wyatt asks, quizzically gazing between her mother and me. “Because it is so weird.”
We all laugh.
“It’s no secret that we’ve had a few rough patches, but ... you know. She’s my best friend.” I take a drink of my cocktail. “Don’t tell my best friend Landon that, he’ll kill me. But yeah—I love her.”
The table falls silent for a moment, the weight of my words hanging in the air.
“What about more kids?” her mom asks, a hopeful look on her face.
Some things are private, and it’s still too early for more kids, but yup, “I’m sure that day will come.”
Margot’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and Lydia’s face softens into a warm smile. Robert studies me for a long moment before nodding slowly.
“Well, Dex,” he says, his voice gruff but kind as he moves to spread his napkin across his lap. “That’s all I needed to hear. Let’s eat, shall we?”
Epilogue
Margot
Two months later ... give or take
I couldn’t be more nervous if I tried.
Well.
That’s not true—I could be.
I could have lain in bed last night, staring up at the ceiling, wide awake, conjuring up scenarios in my brain that aren’t going to happen but could. Such as: I could say something stupid. I could ramble. I could tell his best friend I think their agent is an asshole who needs to mind his own business.
I could have and I did.
Stomach in knots—the kind of knots you feel when you’re finally meeting your new boyfriend’s best friendAnd His Girlfriendfor the first time.Say it with me: They are normal people! They go grocery shopping just like us! They go on coffee runsJust Like Us!
I mean, let’s be real—since when did I give a fig about football before meeting this man? Answer: I didn’t.
And if I wasn’t nervous enough, the date Dex has planned is giving me anxiety too!
Game night.
At his house.
Competitive much?
As I get out of the car, I spy Dex standing at the door, his large form taking up most of the doorframe as he waits for me to collect my stuff. His smile has my heart racing. He looks so relaxed. So confident. He looks like this is the most natural thing to be doing on a Sunday night.
Maybe for him, it is. But for me? I’m about to walk into a battlefield of board games—and first impressions. Could there be a worse combination?
Ugh.
I drag my sorry ass to his massive front porch and lean up when he goes to kiss me on the lips.
