Page 47 of Playbook
A lump forms in my throat. Good god, are we really going to do this? I consider telling him not to worry about it, but then I picture walking in alone and facing Chris and having to admit I made it all up.
I’m never lying again. Nothing good comes from it.
I hear the front door of the apartment open, and then Alec’svoice calls out, “Are you home?”
“I gotta go. My roommate just got home, which means his date must have been a disaster. I think we’re good for this weekend. I’ll text you the details.”
“Ah, gossip time. All right.”
I stand, carrying my phone with me. “You’ll be able to keep yourself occupied until your brother gets home?”
“Yeah, I’ll find something to do.”
“Call the next girl on your list and ask her if it’s creepy to call without texting.”
He laughs. “Can’t. I’m a one-woman man now.”
I groan and his laughter continues.
“Later, London.”
“Sorry. Practice ran late.” Brogan buttons the black dress shirt as he comes to a stop in front of me outside of the restaurant.
We’re standing out of view from anyone inside, namely my family. I spotted my parents’ vehicle, as well as Ben’s, so I know they’re all here already.
“It’s okay,” I say. Nerves make my voice sound strained and tight. I’ve spent every day since agreeing to this questioning my sanity. I cannot believe we’re going through with this. I can’t believehe’sgoing through with this. I really expected him to bail at the last minute.
“You look stressed. Anything else I should know before we go in?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head and try to clear out my anxiety. “They know it’s new, so they aren’t going to grill you or expect you toremember their names or anything.”
“Mom is Renee. Dad is Wes. She’s a middle school principal and he’s a lawyer.” He grins. “I remember.”
“Sierra is two years younger than me. She’s starting law school this fall. Following in my father’s footsteps. Her fiancé, Ben, is a zookeeper.”
“Got it.” He finishes buttoning his shirt and then starts to unroll the sleeves.
“Leave them rolled up,” I say. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Your family? I should probably know something about them.”
He gets a blank expression on his face like he hadn’t considered that, then shrugs it off.
“They won’t come up. And if they do, just say you haven’t met them yet.”
“Okay.”
“We’ve got this.” He takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Unfortunately, his touch elicits a whole other kind of anxiety. I’m so aware of him and how good he looks and how good he smells and how nice he’s being. It’s too much.
He drops my hand and fixes the sleeves on both arms. “Better?”
Dammit, his muscular and veiny forearms scream professional athlete. “Let’s see one rolled down.”
He doesn’t question my request, just pushes one sleeve down and buttons it at the wrist. When he looks up at me, it’s with one brow arched in question.
My gaze trails up his arm to where his bicep pushes at the material. The man is broad and muscular and there’s really no way to hide it. “Either way is fine.”
