Hello loves. Thought you might like an update before I go climb into my lovely, comfy bed.

Thanks for the all the feedback. Love hearing from you all.

Oh, yeah. JE might have created the characters, but this plot is all mine.

RPOV

Les and Bobby left for practice after inhaling almost all the food Steph had brought back. They had shot me many, many significant looks and smirks but had managed, just barely, to refrain from saying anything more about Steph and me. They were really pumped about practice when they left, leaving me behind and seriously feeling like the scrawny kid that never got picked for a team in grade school. Yeah, yeah, I know, broken leg, blah, blah, blah. This hobbling around shit was getting old.

Steph had commandeered my dining room table and was slaving away at her laptop. I'd never seen her take as much time off as she did the last two days and I felt profoundly self-centered as I watched her return calls, reply to emails and take care of her other clients. The end of the season meant that this was probably the busiest time of year for a sports agent. So many deals, contracts and trades were underway. Add to that she was dealing with the possible end of my career.

The end…

In order to stop that shitty line of thought, I made the mistake of checking the messages and calls that Steph had told me about. There were a few from my mom and dad. Their flight was delayed through Denver, but they should get into Newark around eleven tonight. I arranged for a car service to pick them up and bring them here. Then I took a deep breath, tried to push down my disgust and read through the first of 50, fifty, messages from Jeanne. I won't bore you with the details. Just know that they started in as conciliatory fashion as a vapid, completely self-absorbed person can muster and ended in an all caps rant because I hadn't answered her at all. Her last text coming through as I stared in amazement at the ridiculousness on my phone screen.

I guess SHE'S there and that's why you're ignoring me. ASSHOLE!

I really have no idea why I hadn't broken it off with her almost right away. We never really saw each other all that much anyway. Jeanne had been pretty nice at first and I'll admit that I was knocked out a bit by her face and body. It took five or six dates to figure out that she could be a total asshole when she wanted to. Most of the events we had attended until then had been charity functions or movie openings. Those functions don't hold much time for actual get-to-know-you conversations. It wasn't until we had gone to a new restaurant in the city that I realized what she was really like. She was nasty to our server before she could even ask what we'd like to drink. When the poor woman said she'd have to ask the chef if the Kobe beef was grass fed or not, Jeanne said some really degrading shit to her. You'd think that in the age of rampant social media shaming Jeanne would be smart enough to at least be civil to people in the service industry. I'm guessing my profuse apologizing and the massive tip I ended up leaving were enough to keep her viciousness quiet. More than she deserved, honestly.

The only reason why we'd made it through the last year together was that she had left the day after that to film in Sweden for six months. By the time she got back pre-season had started and between practice, workouts, and then games and travel, the only thing I had time for was inhaling some food before passing out at night. In fact, the only time we'd seen each other lately was after the last home game before the playoffs began. She had thrown a tantrum because I had had to be at a post-game press conference and she had had to wait for me. That really had been the final straw for me, but getting actual face-time to end it had been impossible. She had left immediately from there for a press junket. And now here we are, her thousands of miles, away and me, contemplating being the douche that breaks up with someone over the phone or via text. It really was way past time to do it, I just didn't have the energy to keep this up.

While I mulled it over another message popped up.

SHE IS THERE. THERE'S FUCKING PICTURES ON TMZ OF HER LEAVING YOUR BUILDING THIS MORNING. WHY IS SHE THERE?

Before I could think better of it, I fired back.

If you're referring to Steph, yes she is here. And, you don't have to worry about it. We are done. Fucking finished.

I felt like an ass for being intentionally vague about why Steph was here, but are you kidding? Asking me why a good friend is at my house two days after I had a six-hour long surgery?

She sent something else back as I was powering my phone down. There was no need to check it. Her drama always followed the same course and now, just like that, I was free of it.

It took all of three minutes to realize it wouldn't be that simple. Steph's phone started ringing and she answered before I could warn her.

"Steph, don't…"

She turned to look at me as she raised the phone to her ear. "Hello?" She winced and held the phone away from her. I could hear the yelling from my side of the room. She rolled her eyes and mouthed, what did you do?

I mouthed back, dumped her.

She raised her eyebrows, a slow smile spreading. "Jeanne…" her smile grew some more, "Jeanne…" the screeching increased in pitch. "JEANNE!" She snapped. "You want to be careful about those threats." Steph listened for a beat. "Well, that would be considered libel, and we'd have to take steps." She listened again. "I'll contact your publicist then, have a great day." The grin on her face as she ended the call was luminous. Nothing got Steph going like the opportunity for some legal sparring. Her phone started ringing again, but she silenced the call.

"Steph, I'm…"

"Hold on," she said, finger up for me to give her a second. "Let me just block her or it'll be going all day."

"I'm sorry."

She just waved her hand dismissively. "No big. I graduated Dartmouth with her agent and publicist. Connie will handle her. God knows the poor woman should get hazard pay, if that phone call was anything to go by. It might get ugly for a while though if she does follow through on the threats she was just throwing at me." She turned away again and began composing an email. "If I do this now we can try to limit any shitstorm that hits the media. You wouldn't believe some of the shit that she was saying. One thing in your favor, everyone loves you and hates her." She shook her head. "She actually thinks people will think that you're cheating on her, with me of all people. I'm almost forty for fuck's sake." She ended with a mutter.

"Completely ancient. Yes." I countered sarcastically. I hated that she'd say things like that. Age seemed to be a big deal to her, but I hadn't been lying when I had told her in an anesthesia-laced haze that she was "fucking beautiful". She was, I had always thought so, inside and out. And, since I could still feel her pressed against me from this morning, I was becoming increasingly aware of how much I still wanted her after all this time, even with my current invalid status. Steph could convince a monk to cheat on his vows with just a smile.

She finished her email, sent it with a flourish and stood, stretching her arms over her head. "Want something?" She asked, nodding her head towards the kitchen.

It took a beat for me to catch her actual meaning, rather than the immediate pornesque path my mind went down. "Yeah, um, water, please." She smiled and moved away. It took all my energy not to follow her into the kitchen and spill my guts. I knew her too well to think that she would just shrug and say okay to… I don't even know what I wanted to happen from here on out.

She called an end to her work day not long after that, parking herself on couch with me. Occasionally commenting on the game film I was watching again.

"Does this bother you?" She asked later as she watched me catch a long pass and tear over the goal line on the screen.

"Nah," I stopped to think better. "Yeah, a little."

"That we don't know if…?" Thankfully she didn't finish her question.

"That, yes. And, that my first thought watching that was, I got totally lucky on that catch. If Cleary hadn't tackled Vollmer I would've been splattered all over the field the second I caught the ball."

She laughed, "What you have, honey, is talent. I don't think luck plays that big of a part in your game." I started to protest. "Carlos, you forget, I've been watching you play for a long time. No way Vollmer would've caught you on that pass."

Steph had always had this way of praising you without being overly effusive. She could bolster me through a slump like no other.

I shrugged that off, "But, yeah, the part that's getting to me right now is that it's totally fucking useless going over this. I might never run this route again."

"Carlos," she said quietly. She laid her hand on my arm. "We don't know that yet."

"But it's a good possibility," I answered, a little morose.

Her hand slid up my arm to the neck, she pulled until leaned my head on her shoulder. If the sudden emotion hitting me had been even a little bit less intense I would've laughed at the picture we must've made. Me leaning on her for comfort.

"There's no point in worrying right now. Not until you know for sure," she murmured, her cheek pressed against the top of my head. "I had at least three teams this year poking around for you for coaching. Two of whom you really liked and you were talking about that charity you wanted to start up. If Scott gives you bad news, I'll keep you so busy you won't know what to do with yourself." She patted my good leg. We had had more physical contact in the last two days than we had had in the last twelve years. Each time she touched me, even innocently like this, made something hum inside me.

I picked my head up and looked at her, my face closer to hers than I realized. "Oh yeah?" I couldn't help the flirt from slipping out.

Her breath caught and her eyes widened, darkening slightly. "Are you flirting with me?" She chuckled and rolled those eyes. "Did you take your meds already?"

I didn't move away. "No."

Her lips parted like she was about to say something, but nothing came out for a beat. "Which question are you answering?" She finally whispered.

I was saved by the bell, literally, the intercom buzzed. I started to get up but she beat me to it. Have I mentioned that this leg thing was getting old? She came back after a second. "I had dinner delivered. Your doorman's bringing it up."

A couple of hours later found us still on the couch. I had committed to staying awake until my parents got here, but it was proving very difficult. Especially as Steph had passed out not long after dinner. The big meal must've had a soporific effect on her because one minute she was watching the snow drifting past the window against the backdrop of the west side of Manhattan, and the next her face was turned to me, her body curled against the back of the couch, eyes shut, breathing softly. She had looked uncomfortable perched there, so I eased her down to rest her head on my good leg. My hand had been itching to touch her since then and I finally gave in, smoothing back a stray curl from her cheek. The smoothness of her skin, startling. So much so, I very gently traced my fingers down the side of her long neck, just barely feeling the pulse at the base. The repeated motion and the softness of her pulled my heavy eyelids down and that's how my parents found us two hours later.

The look on my mother's face not quite what I expected after what felt like a lifetime of hint dropping about who she wanted as a daughter-in-law from me.

Dun-dun-dun! What could Mama Manoso be upset about, hmmm?

Let me know what you thought. Pretty please?

Thanks for reading,

Love,

EA xoxox