by Allison Parr
* * *
Tanya called me into her office at the end of January. She was blunt and to the point, and since I had been expecting it, I was able to constrain some of my unhappiness. “You can’t report on the Leopards anymore, you know.”
I stared out the window at the endless sky, winter blue and bright. Far above, puffs of white lay in easy formations, while all the buildings that interfered were touched with the cold, unforgiving sharpness of morning sun. “I know.”
She shifted behind me, and Tanya rarely shifted. “You’re too close.”
My lips curved. In bed with the team, in fact.
But I still didn’t want to say goodbye. I loved this team, these players. I loved how they laughed with me and protected me and how they’d started to now call me “RB” for Rosenberg, which shouldn’t have made me laugh, but did anyways.
It would be a lot of work, learning a new team’s habits, getting them to trust me. I would have to overcome the fact that I was the reporter who had broken the silence, and that I was involved with a member of a different New York team. It wouldn’t be easy. It wouldn’t be quick.
But it would be worth it.
* * *
“I for one, am glad you won’t be covering the Leopards anymore,” Rachael Hamilton said as we piled on her couches, along with Natalie and Briana, who had just finished telling us about her honeymoon. “It made it feel a little awkward to just talk about normal stuff. Like there was a barrier.”
I grinned. “Like I was a member of the press, perhaps?”
“Why, yes,” she deadpanned. “That may have been it.”
Bri quirked a brow. “Like about who’s getting married next?”
Rachael rolled her eyes. “Please. I’m happy to live in sinful debauchery.” She stretched her arms high. “Also, I’m pretty sure Ryan’s waiting until they win a Super Bowl.”
“I felt really bad,” I admitted. “When you were telling me about Loft, and Ryan was all mad. Did that work out?”
She grinned wickedly. “It always works out. Working it out’s the best part.”
Briana pushed Rachael with her foot. “Look at you.”
I laughed, and felt giddy and bubbly and pleased.
My roommates were also blatantly pleased. Lucy, in particular, was thrilled. “This means you’ll get married and then I’ll have an unlimited supply of football players. This is awesome. You can draw up the list for the next dinner party.”
“Whoa, there.” I held up a hand and grinned. “Maybe a little too fast.”
Jasmine took it in stride, as she took most things. “Cool. Glad that worked out. You guys are a good match.”
Sabeen asked, “Are you happy?”
“I am happy.”
She smiled her sly smile. “I’m glad.”
Of course, all three of them were bound to be especially glad because it meant that with me spending half my time at my boyfriend’s, they were all bound to snatch a little more privacy or shower time.
Shoshi was the only one who sat me down, back at the same Alice and Wonderland restaurant where we’d had brunch the first day. She delicately sipped at her jasmine tea. “All right. I’ll admit he seems pretty sincere.”
I raised my brows. “Pretty sincere? He risked his career for me.”
She snorted. “No publicity’s bad publicity. He could have found another team like that.”
I smiled fondly at her, because I knew she was only trying to look out for me. “Maybe.”
Her eyes widened and focused behind me, and then she switched back to me. “Are you serious?”
I tilted my head up so Abe could tilt his down and kiss me. He grinned at my cousin as he unwrapped his scarf and sat down. “Hey, Shosh.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m still telling you. Don’t let her down.”
He swung an arm around my shoulders and gave me a private look. “I don’t intend to.”
“Hmph.” She studied us carefully, and then let out an elaborate sigh and waved to summon one of the waitresses. “We’re going to need another menu.” She looked back at Abe. “I suppose you can stay.”
I talked to Cindy and Gabi on separate occasions. They reacted exactly how your oldest friends are supposed to act: thrilled and delighted and shocked and pleased. They oohed in all the right spots and said the right things and basically did exactly what you want your best friends to do after your boyfriend makes a grand gesture.
And as for our parents... Well, there was nothing to be said about our parents that hadn’t already been said. Perhaps they’d always believed we’d be together, in the end.
Parents were wise that way.
* * *
After the Super Bowl, after the Pro Bowl, some of the members of the NFL finally got a bit of rest. Tanya gave me a week off, too—or not off, really, we were never off, but out of the office.
Abe and I caught a flight home immediately and were greeted at the airport by all four of our parents, who made such a fuss over us I began to think my privacy might have been better respected back in New York. Even Mrs. Krasner couldn’t help a moment of glee when we were over that Friday for Shabbat. She smiled brightly at me. “I was right then, wasn’t I?”
I smiled at her, and then turned my face up to her grandson’s. “Yes, you were.”
That weekend, we waved goodbye to our families and packed our bags for a three-night trip on the other side of the Bay. Because it really wasn’t fair to make us spend all our nights apart.
Abe and I walked through the tall redwoods of Muir Woods. After the cold dreariness of New York, these bright skies and balmy winds were soothing. We’d escaped our families that afternoon and driven across the Golden Gate Bridge, the mist curling around us like the friendly spirit of my childhood.
The roads to Muir Woods wound and wended, and I’d been scared in the past of driving too quickly and making the long plunge to our deaths down below, but it didn’t bother me this time.
We parked at the National Monument in the shade of century-old growth. Back in New York, it was far below freezing, but here the temperatures reached the mid-sixties, a very pleasant warmth for February in the Bay Area, where it usually hovered in the fifties. It was cooler here than at our parents’ homes in Menlo Park, but we’d come prepared with jeans and sweatshirts. In the Northeast they said, “Wait five minutes and the weather will change,” but here in the land of microclimates we said to drive five miles if you wanted a different temperature.
It was still much warmer than New York.
The boardwalk meandered slowly through the ancient groves, and we took our time walking it. Nothing had changed since we were children here. The red-brown trunks remained straight as arrows, solid and real. They were the tallest living things in the world, and as much as one can ascribe traits to plants, I found them honorable and patient. I always breathed easier walking through these trees, and now I felt the last tension from my months of fight drain out of me, tension I hadn’t even known was there. Moss crept up the trunk, and their leaves shaded us above. Everything was green here. Everything was perfect.
Abe noticed though, and he reached out and took my hand. I smiled at him. Was he a river or a redwood, this man that I loved so much? He was both, strong and honorable, determined and playful.
Afterward, we pulled a basket and blanket from the car and spread them out in the picnic area.
Abe leaned back on his elbows, tilting his head up to the buttery warmth. “Do you want to get married?”
Joy and happiness bubbled up inside me. “Yes.”
“To me, I mean,” he finished, and then looked at me. “Oh. Yes?”
“Yes.” I leaned over and cupped his face in mine, and kissed him.
When I drew back, he was smiling. “I don’t have a ring, though.”
“You’re in good company, because neither do I.”
He grinned at me. “But I know what’s going to be on it.”
I raised a brow. Love filled every nook and cranny
of me, an absolute, pure emotion that lifted my head and made my feet tingle and made me certain that while the rest of my life might be strange and uncertain in so many regards, this one part of it would always be the same. It would always be Abraham. “And what’s that?”
He sat up and brushed his lips under my ear. “A moonstone.”
* * * * *
Can’t get enough of the new adult genre?
Pick up the first two novels from Allison Parr—Rush Me and Running Back—available now!
Rush Me
When post-grad Rachael Hamilton accidentally gate-crashes a pro-athlete party, she ends up face-to-face with Ryan Carter, the NFL’s most beloved quarterback.
While most girls would be thrilled to meet the attractive young millionaire, Rachael would rather spend time with books than at sporting events, and she has more important things to worry about than romance. Like her parents pressuring her to leave her unpaid publishing internship for law school.
Over pancake brunches, charity galas and Alexander the Great, Rachael realizes all the judgments she’d made about Ryan are wrong. But how can a Midwestern Irish-Catholic jock with commitment problems and an artsy, gun-shy Jewish New Englander ever forge a partnership? Rachael must let down her barriers if she wants real love—even if that opens her up to pain that could send her back into her emotional shell forever.
Running Back
Natalie Sullivan is on the verge of a breakthrough most archaeology grad students only dream of: discovering a lost city. Her research points to a farm in Ireland, but to excavate she needs permission from the new owner: the Michael O’Connor, popular NFL running back.
On TV Mike seems so charming and good-natured that Natalie figures getting his cooperation will be a breeze. So she’s not prepared to deal with the arrogant—and adamantly opposed—man she meets in person. Or the way one look from him sends shivers down her spine...
Determined to kick-start her career, Natalie stalks Mike all the way across the Atlantic when he goes to Ireland in search of his roots. She tells herself her interest is strictly professional, but the more she gets to know him, the harder it is to deny her personal attraction to the sexy sports star. And when Mike confides why he refuses to allow the dig, Natalie must decide if she can follow her heart without losing sight of her dreams.
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About the Author
Allison Parr is the author of Rush Me and Running Back, the first two books about the New York Leopards. She grew up in small-town New England, where she developed an incurable case of wanderlust. After graduating with degrees in archaeology and creative writing, she spent the next several years living in San Francisco, Paris, Boston and New York. When she’s not traveling or writing, she’s making a mean chocolate cake or bad historical jokes. She’s also amassing enough books to rival the library in Beauty and the Beast.
To learn more about Allison’s books and travels, visit her at www.allisonparr.com.
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ISBN-13: 9781426897757
IMAGINARY LINES
Copyright © 2014 by Hannah Reynolds
Edited by Angela James
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