“That was a lot of money to drop in one place,” he said.
She only vaguely remembered the total, and bristled until she heard the genuine concern in his tone. “I’ve got money. The European leagues pay better than the WNBA, and I saved most of what I made. Teaching plus coaching is more than enough for me.”
“How’s your mom doing?”
This was the other problem with a dinner date. Their conversation on the court extended to trash talking and not much more. Back then, they’d known everything they needed to know about each other through the osmosis of high school, truth and rumor and secrets swirling in the air like hormones, drug store perfume, and Axe body spray.
“She’s okay,” Charlie said. “Still checking at Safeway. She remarried again a couple of years ago. Again.” She shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of how hard it was to make a relationship work when a couple lived in the same house, much less with the added strain of a taxing job two time zones apart.
“She had a tough life.”
“Bill seems like a nice guy. He’s got a steady job doing repair for Great Northern. Grown kids. I don’t know them that well. He transferred here from Pittsburgh for the job, and they’re still out East. But for the first time in her life, she’s got someone looking out for her. I sent her money once I was making some, but it’s not the same as having another person by your side. She feels safe, I think.”
“That’s good.”
Charlie straightened her silverware, remembering not once but twice reading her mother’s arrest reports and finding Jamie’s father’s signature as the arresting officer, the seething blend of humiliation and shame and anger she took out on opponents, on Jamie. Her little house was cute and renovated, but it wasn’t on the Hill. All the money earned by winning championships wouldn’t make her feel like she belonged on the Hill. Jamie, when he left the Navy, would segue easily into the civilian world. She couldn’t see him joining the Lancaster Police Department with his brother, but he’d do something.
“What are you going to do when you leave the Navy?”
“No idea,” he said frankly. “I’m planning on twenty years, so I’ve got another decade to go. I’ll spend as much of that on the teams as I can. Then maybe I’ll stay as an instructor, or work as a contractor.”
“Oh,” she said, bitter disappointment spoiling the excellent spinach dip. “That sounds good. It’s a meaningful career. Do you come back often?”
“Not really,” he said. “Mom and Dad like Virginia Beach. They’re even talking about wintering out there when Dad retires for the second time.”
She swallowed. “Special circumstances this time.”
“Yeah,” he said.
The conversation was getting more awkward by the second. Emotion layered up like a good defense: relief because this would answer all the questions she’d asked herself since high school, like had she made a mistake, was she missing out on anything, were they meant to be, and she’d screwed it up? Yes. They had chemistry and an adolescent longing to work through, but reality was totally different.
Layered over that was disappointment, growing more profound by the second. She thought she’d been honest with herself about Jamie. Turns out, she hadn’t.
“Have you walked the red carpet?”
She blinked at the random question until she connected it back to Taylor. “Once,” she said. “A Paris premiere for a movie a guy I was dating took me to.”
“You were dating someone who could take you to movie premieres?”
His voice was light, curious, but he wasn’t blinking as he watched her. She shrugged. “Premieres are supposed to be star-studded, so they invite people the paparazzi will recognize.”
“Who?” She named a top-ten ranked tennis player. Jamie’s eyebrows lifted before he shifted his weight and sipped his wine. “So you had a pretty interesting time in Europe.”
“I doubt I can compete with a Navy SEAL serving all over the world,” she said.
He leaned forward, a sharklike grin on his face. “I’ll trade you, one for one.”
Now they were back on familiar territory. “Check,” she said, verbally bouncing him the ball.
“Who was your first?”
That was a chest pass, shot hard, and she couldn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “Leo, a soccer player from Italy,” she said.
Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Did you meet him in college?”
The excellent wine wasn’t solely responsible for the blush heating her ears. “No, after I turned pro.”
He sat back, blew out his breath. “You didn’t have sex until you were out of college?”
She shook her head. “Not until I had my diploma in my hand, a signed contract, and a prescription for birth control.” Because the Pill could fail, but money in the bank and a degree meant she’d always be able to take care of a child.