Page 82 of The Comeback

The woman’s eyes light up, and she motions frantically for the camera operator to follow her. She twirls her finger in the air as a universal signal to roll the tape. Even though there hasn’t been tape inside a video camera in years. Perfect. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep them from shaking.

“Charlotte Tillman?” She woman smiles as she rushes over to me while shoving out her hand. “I’m Dominique Parks with Channel 5 news. You’re Charlotte Tillman, correct?”

Lie. Escape. Toss a glass of soda on her and run. I don’t have a drink. My gaze darts to a woman holding a 64-ounce Styrofoam cup. She has long, dark hair and a wide smile. Isn’t that Tony Timmerman’s wife, Jenna? I’d much rather talk to her than participate in this circus, but it’s part of the package of being with Weston, and he’s worth it.

“Yes, I’m Charlotte Tillman.”

Her face lights up like she’s a paleontologist and cornered a real live dinosaur. “What did you think of Weston’s game-winning touchdown?”

“I’m excited. The team played a phenomenal game. Both sides of the ball were focused and put on a strong performance.”

“Weston is now the highest-paid running back in the league.”

And? “Yes, he is. I’m proud of how hard he worked to earn that contact.”

“How long have the two of you been dating?”

Is she implying what I think she’s implying? My eyes narrow as my jaw flexes. Don’t lose it. She’s doing her job. But she doesn’t work for TMZ. “We’ve been tog-”

“Ms. Parks.” Weston nods, places his arm around my waist, and slaps a grin on his face. One that doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re beyond excited to be together and looking forward to a beautiful future together.” His smile drops as his eyebrows arch upward. “Now, how about that game?”

“Yes.” The woman flinches and settles back onto her heels. “Yes, tell me about the game. How does it feel to be wearing a new team’s colors?”

“It feels fantastic,” Weston rambles effortlessly about the game, his move to Kansas City, and the team in general. I rest my hand on his back and rub in a slow circle. Just being with him makes me feel better. No more nausea. No more intrusive, nosy, busybody reporter spinning my words around.

The crowd increases as more players exit the locker room and mingle with their families. The scent of aftershave and soap circles above my head, teasing at my scent intolerance, but it’s not having the same results this time.

When the light on the camera goes off, and the woman in jeans and a T-shirt drops the lens down to her side, Weston steps into the reporter’s space. “Don’t bother my fiancée again.”

“It’s part of the game.” She steps back, returning to a more comfortable distance between them.

“I appreciate I’m the big story in town and in the league, but my family is off-limits. If you want to grab an interview with me, contact the team or my agent.” He shifts to stand between the reporter and me.

“Sure thing.” She nods and tugs on the camera operator’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Weston leans his head down to mine when they’re several feet away. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. She isn’t a problem.”

“I don’t like it when someone upsets you.” He pulls me into his arms and rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too. You did good out there today.” I grin and stand on my tiptoes.

He places a chaste kiss on my lips. “All because of you.”

“Stop. You had to do all the work.”

“I did all the work to put that baby inside you, but I still let you claim you’re doing something amazing.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I got the keys.”

“What?”

“I have the keys to the house in my pocket. How about we go home and christen the place?”

“I can’t believe it.” Excitement flows through me. Our first home together, and it’s perfect. Five bedrooms. Three bathrooms. And an in-ground pool. Oversized kitchen with two ovens. Seriously, two ovens. And a combination weight room and dance studio.

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