Текст книги "Covering Kendall"

Автор книги: Julie Brannagh

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“I had a long talk with the owner. He officially offered me the GM job. He is happy with what I am doing with the organization and the team, and he’d like to have things settled in the next several days. His attorneys have notified him to expect an indictment.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure if he will give the team ownership outright to his wife before the paperwork arrives or what is going to happen, but the franchise will need to batten down the hatches to survive, so to speak.”

“Where does that leave us?”

She looked into his face. “I will have to live in California for the foreseeable future, if that answers your question.”

“If we want to stay together, I’ll be living alone in Seattle six months a year.”

“Drew, we haven’t been on a real date yet. Maybe we should try the meeting in the middle thing you talked about last week before we decide it’s not going to work,” she said.

“I’ll be in rehab for at least six months now, most likely a year. In Seattle.” He let out a sigh. “I’m not sure this is going to work, Kendall. You’ll be working sixty to seventy hours a week for the Miners. Our GM must be part giraffe; I don’t think that guy ever sleeps. You’ll be so exhausted on the nights we can see each other that dating will be out of the question—”

“I’ll make it happen,” she said. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

“What if I want to start a marriage and a life in the house I picked out for my future family? What then?”

He realized he was starting to sound like his dad, but he’d made a plan. He wanted to see his smiling wife in a luxurious house, watch his kids playing in the grass in the backyard, and holidays and birthdays and family celebrations there all year long. Was it a crime to wish for such a thing?

“Why does it have to be your house and your city? Is there any room for compromise at all?” She pushed the plate of eggs and turkey bacon away. “I know you lived in California in college. Would Portland be an alternative? I’d have to fly in for weekends, but we could make it work.”

“I can’t get on a plane six months a year to go to practice.”

The argument could go around and around and never get anywhere. He wouldn’t budge. Right now, she couldn’t. She’d given Mr. Curtis her word last night that she would stay with the Miners until his legal problems were over at the least. The coaching staff and players needed to know that their world wasn’t changing all that much.

She glanced up from staring down at the rolling table to see him flinch in pain.

“Do you need some painkillers?” she asked.

“I don’t know when the last dose was. Maybe I should call the nurse.”

He started to get up from the chair, and she said, “Let me do it.”

DREW OPENED HIS eyes from another pharmaceutically-induced haze to see Kendall asleep in the reclining chair next to his bed. The TV in his room had been replaced while he was out too. Whoever installed it left it on ESPN. The volume was muted and the closed captioning was enabled. He noticed there was a special report coming up about the Miners’ current situation, so he hit the button on his bed to sit up a bit and turned the volume low enough that he could hear it, but not so loud it would wake up the (obviously) exhausted Kendall.

The sportscasters started out by showing a clip of the security camera footage from the hotel where Rocky Hill used his girlfriend’s face as a punching bag. Even in black and white, the pictures were chilling. The next clip was Kendall answering a question from a reporter asking her if she was ashamed the incident happened while she was acting GM of the Miners.

Kendall looked stricken by his question. She took a sip of water while she gathered her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was strong and she looked directly into the camera. He was stunned by her admission that yes, she was ashamed. He listened to the rest of her comments with his mouth hanging open. He resisted the impulse to applaud. No wonder the owner of the Miners moved toward her at the podium to shake her hand. She’d defused a disastrous PR situation with honesty and a commitment to the future. She handled a room full of media who wielded questions like pointy sticks and didn’t back down to them.

The strong, decisive leader on his television set, the woman who said she wouldn’t let anything like it happen again on her watch, stirred a little in her sleep. The sports anchors were now opining on what this all meant for the Miners. He didn’t care what they had to say about the whole thing, so he hit the “mute” button again.

He was so proud of her. Even more, it was evident to him that Kendall would dedicate herself to home, family, and her career. Watching her lead a franchise in trouble made him understand she was born for the job, even if she wasn’t sure she wanted it. She’d have a husband and a family, but she wouldn’t be happy if the only things she had to worry about were what she’d serve for dinner, or getting the kids to their soccer practice beforehand. He knew she would love her family and do her best, but she would also have a career that absorbed and challenged her, whether it was with the Miners or another pro football franchise.

His dad was currently having heartburn over his mom’s serving him pasta sauce out of a jar because she was enjoying the opportunity to have a job. His mom wanted a challenge too, and she went out and got it. It wasn’t about Kendall’s serving him takeout for meals or forgetting to wash his shorts. How was he going to deal with the fact she lived in another state and could not move, let alone the knowledge that she had a lot bigger things on her plate than whether or not things in their house were running smoothly?

If he wanted Kendall, his definition of the perfect family needed to change. They would be handling the details of any future home together. They might have those holidays and birthdays and friends over to visit, but it might not be in a suburb twenty miles east of Seattle. Whether he realized it or not, Drew’s dad had taught him a very valuable lesson. Home wasn’t a place in which one person worked to meet the needs of her entire family. It was a place in which everyone worked together to take care of each other.

He glanced up to see his mom and dad in the corridor outside the room.

“Shhh,” he said, putting one finger over his lips.

“This must be Kendall,” his mom whispered.

His dad gave Drew a nod. “Let me go find out if I can get another chair or two,” he muttered.

Kendall stirred again and opened her eyes. “Oh. I must have fallen asleep,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She smothered a yawn, stretched a bit, and got to her feet. She extended her hand to Drew’s mom. “You must be Mrs. McCoy. I’m Kendall.”

Drew’s mom hurried around his bed and threw her arms around Kendall.

“It’s so nice to meet you. You are as lovely as Drew told me.”

“He’s been bragging about you also. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Call me Bonnie,” his mom said, gesturing for Kendall to take the chair. “My husband went to get a couple more chairs so we could sit here and have a good visit.”

Bonnie kissed her son on the forehead and said, “Is there anything we can get for you, honey?”

“A new shoulder would be nice.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bonnie told him. “How about some brunch in the meantime? I’ll ask the nurse if you can have something to eat. I’ll be right back.”

DREW PATTED THE bed next to him when his parents wandered out of the room. Kendall perched on it.

“Maybe we could continue our conversation later on.”

“I’d like that.”

She was thinking the chances of that happening were small to none. Drew’s parents would most likely stay until visiting hours were over, and part of the deal she’d struck with her boss was the fact she’d be back in San Francisco by tomorrow morning. The Miners had a bye next week, so she could come back on Friday afternoon and stay until Monday morning.

She wasn’t sure how she and Drew could realistically make things work. She couldn’t telecommute. She had to be in the Miners’ offices at least five days a week to do her job, and most of those workdays stretched into the evening hours. Any relationship they managed to carve out would wither and die due to absence and inattention.

He was also facing the biggest challenge of his professional life. Would he be able to come back from such a catastrophic injury, or would he be forced into retirement? If he had to retire, he might want to move where she was, but she couldn’t count on that. He’d be facing the biggest fear of all NFL players forced into premature retirement: Who would he be after a life spent being Drew McCoy, football star? He’d have to start over. Even more, he’d have to redefine himself, and many former players struggled with that challenge.

Drew didn’t seem interested in coaching. He’d lose his mind being stuck in a broadcasting booth each Sunday for six months a year. He probably thought he had several years to decide what he wanted to do after football. Those years had evaporated on Dallas’s turf last Sunday morning.

He might resent her because she still earned a living from football, and he did not.

Chapter Seventeen

LATER THAT DAY, Kendall pulled the blankets up Drew’s chest as she watched his eyelids flutter shut. The nurses had re-packed and changed his dressing about half an hour ago. They’d pumped him full of painkillers before they did it, but the pain etched on his face told her whatever shot they gave him wasn’t quite enough. He was exhausted. His parents had left a few minutes ago.

She wished she could stay.

“They’re letting me take a shower tomorrow, baby,” he whispered. “Can’t wait.”

She had to smile. “Alone?”

“I’ll have a couple of assistants. Maybe you’d like to help too.”

“Sounds steamy,” she said. “Are you sure you’re ready for all that action?”

“Bring it on,” he said.

She leaned over the bed and touched her mouth to his as she stroked his hair. His mom had brushed the tangles out of it earlier and put it back into a ponytail, but it was already rumpled.

“I heard you’re getting out of here tomorrow.”

“That’s what the doctor said.”

He was half-asleep. She had to leave. There was so much to say and he wasn’t awake to talk about any of it. She’d spent the entire afternoon talking and laughing with him and his parents instead.

Neil and Bonnie McCoy were terrific people. She really liked them. She knew her parents would love Drew. He would joke with her dad and flirt with her mom, and there wouldn’t be in-law problems or unpleasantness. The longer she stayed, the more she ignored the truth.

It wasn’t going to work between them. Neither of them was willing to give an inch on the compromises needed to make any relationship thrive. She could give up the things she wanted to be with him, but she knew she’d resent those sacrifices. She’d be giving up her own goals and aspirations, and that scared her more than a lifetime of being alone.

He could retire or get himself traded to a team in California, and he’d still be wondering if he’d done the right thing. Bitterness would build.

She knew she was falling in love with him. She knew she might spend the rest of her life kicking herself, but maybe it was best to cut it off before things were even worse—the exchange of “I love you’s,” the lonely nights spent Skyping or texting when you’d give almost anything to lie next to your loved one and tell him about your day.

She reached over to kiss him one more time. He was almost asleep. Hopefully, he wouldn’t figure out she was gone until morning.

“Good night, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll be back soon. Sleep well.”

He let out a murmur of protest, but he was so drugged up he couldn’t force himself awake. She watched him relax into a deep sleep. She stroked the roughness of his cheek and kissed the middle of his forehead. She turned to pick up the backpack and handbag she’d brought with her from San Francisco.

She hurried out of his room, took the elevator to the first floor, and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag to let Mr. Curtis’s pilot know she was on her way to Boeing Field.

DREW’S BEDSIDE PHONE rang the next morning. He reflexively reached out to grab it and let out a “son of a bitch” as he realized that probably wasn’t the best career move. He should have put the fucking thing on the table next to his left hand. In those split seconds, he also realized that Kendall wasn’t in the room. Her stuff was gone.

Shit.

He knocked the receiver off of the cradle, said, “Just a minute,” and finally managed to grab it with his good hand.

“Hello?”

“It’s Kendall,” she said. “Good morning.”

“Where are you? I thought you were going to be here this morning—”

She let out a sigh. “I thought I was too. I’m so sorry.”

“When did you decide you were leaving?”

“I had meetings today.”

“Wouldn’t it have been a good thing to tell me about yesterday?”

He could hear the strain in her voice, but he was hurt and angry. Pissed enough to finally say something about it, as a matter of fact.

“Drew, I’m so sorry—”

“That’s what you claim, but I’m not sure you really mean it. I need you right now.”

He heard her gasp, and he heard voices in the background.

“Kendall, we’re ready to get started,” a male voice said.

“I have to go,” she said.

He’d make it easy on her. He knew it was childish and he should cut her a little slack for being in an impossible situation, but right now, he didn’t want to. He hung up on her.

AFTER A SHOWER that had nothing in common with the “naughty nurses” porn he’d seen at other guys’ bachelor parties, Drew’s incision was inspected, re-bandaged and wrapped again for the trip home. He was helped into cross trainers, Sharks warm-ups, and a very loose button-down shirt. His mom draped a fleece jacket over his currently useless shoulder and his entourage (nurses, parents, and Sharks security) made their way to the SUV that would be taking him home.

“I thought we’d see Kendall this morning,” his mom said as he was wheeled down the hospital corridor.

“She had to go back to San Francisco,” he said.

“Maybe you could talk with her later, or she can fly back for the weekend.” His mom sounded so hopeful. He knew he was about to break her heart.

Drew had dated a lot of women over the years. His parents had been friendly toward them. His mom even hinted around about a couple of them. In other words, she would have been happy to have a daughter-in-law. Kendall had evidently joined that shortlist. His mom knew what his schedule was like during football season. She didn’t understand Kendall wasn’t going to be able to get out of going to the Miners’ game on Sunday in Atlanta unless she was bleeding from every pore, and even then it was not a certainty.

“Mom, I think we broke up this morning,” he said.

His normally calm, quiet, sweet mom grabbed the arm of the wheelchair he was currently riding in and shrieked, “WHAT?”

The small group of people surrounding Drew came to a screeching halt. His dad reached out to slide his arm around his mom’s shoulders.

“Bonnie, we can talk about it later.”

Drew reached over to take his mom’s hand in his good one. “Mom. It’ll be okay.” His mom pulled away from him.

“You broke up with her? That poor girl got on a plane to spend twenty-four hours with you. Why would you do such a thing? I really like her. Are you nuts?”

“Why would you think I broke up with her? Maybe she dumped me,” he said.

“I saw the way she looked at you yesterday. She’s in love with you, or my name isn’t Bonnie McCoy. I’m ashamed of you, Andrew David McCoy. Ashamed.”

His mom dropped his arm and walked away from him. He stared after her in astonishment. Maybe the pain meds were making him hallucinate or something. She wasn’t that mad when he dented the fender on his dad’s month-old truck as a newly-licensed driver.

If (and when) she found out he hung up on Kendall’s attempt to apologize, there would be additional hell to pay: His mom would not tolerate rudeness.

After a pause, Cheryl got his wheelchair going again. “It looks like you’re in trouble, Mister. Are you sure you want to go home right now?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Maybe the neighbor can come over and help me take a shower,” Drew joked. “I also have a guest room, Cheryl.”

“Mr. Cheryl might have a problem with that.”

“Tell him it’s a business thing.”

“God, you’re a flirt,” she said. He had to laugh.

He was rolled onto the sidewalk in front of the hospital a few minutes later. A small knot of jersey-clad Sharks fans held up “Get Well Soon” signs for him, and they chanted “Go Sharks! Go Sharks!” There were a few members of the media filming his exit from the hospital. It must have been a slow news day.

He glanced up at Cheryl.

“Will you take me over there?”

“I suppose.” She grinned at him.

“Have they been out here all day?”

“They’ve been out here on and off since you were admitted.”

He didn’t have a pen, but he was willing to bet someone in the crowd might let him use one. The fans burst into applause when he was wheeled over to them. He tried to stand up, but he felt Cheryl’s hand on his good shoulder.

“You can’t be out of the wheelchair until you’re in a vehicle and off hospital property, Buster.”

“Crap,” he said good-naturedly. A little boy with no front teeth wearing a reproduction McCoy jersey bounced up to him.

“Will you sign my shirt?”

“Of course I will,” he said. “I think I need a pen, though.”

Someone from the crowd handed him a Sharpie.

“Thank you so much,” he said to the woman with the pen.

He saw color rising in her face, and she gave him a shy smile. In other words, she wanted to talk with him, but she was too shy. He’d make sure she got an autograph. He could sign a few more in the meantime. He’d have to use his non-dominant hand. Hopefully, nobody would mind.

He felt his dad’s hand on his good shoulder. “Son, I’m taking your mother back to your house. I think she needs to lie down for a little while.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s a little overwrought. I think she’s tired.”

Drew’s stomach clenched in concern. He wondered if she was getting sick. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d freaked out like she had a few minutes ago. Maybe she was stressed out from taking care of him and the ongoing fights with his dad over her job. He was going to find out what was wrong as soon as he could get out of here.

“Do you need my keys?” Drew said.

“No. We’ve got the other key. We’ll see you at home.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Drew went on signing autographs until he’d signed for everyone. He gave the pen back to the woman who’d handed it to him in the first place right after he signed her McCoy jersey. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Abby,” she said. She gave him another shy smile. She’d waited until everyone else got their turn to talk with him, she didn’t complain, and she wasn’t wearing a ring. If Collins or Taylor were here right now, he’d be introducing her and letting them slug it out over who got to take her out for coffee.

“You saved my butt, Abby. Thanks.” He extended his hand to shake hers and said, “If you’ll call the Sharks headquarters on Monday and leave your contact information with the receptionist, I’ll make sure you get some Sharks gear on me.”

“I would love that!” Abby said. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

Cheryl leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. “Listen, big guy, I need to get you in that car to go home. My boss is going to kill me.”

“Got it.”

He waved goodbye to the Sharks fans, who cheered as he was helped out of the wheelchair and into the black SUV the team’s security guys drove. Chuck threw himself into the driver’s seat, pulled on his seatbelt, and they were off.

DREW TALKED CHUCK into obtaining a to-go order from Burgermaster on the way to his house. This might have had something to do with the fact Drew offered to treat Chuck and his colleague.

“I need a Tom & Jerry shake,” Drew told Chuck. “The hospital food wasn’t terrible, but I could go for a cheeseburger too.”

“Gotcha,” Chuck said. “Is there any place else we need to stop before we take you to your house?”

“I think I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

He reached into the pocket of his warm-ups and scrolled down his contacts list with one fingertip. Every Shark knew Amy Hamilton Stephens, the owner of Crazy Daisy in Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood, specialized in smoothing the feathers of infuriated females among other flower-and-gift-sending emergencies. He hit the number and held the phone up to his ear.

“Crazy Daisy,” a cheerful female voice answered.

“Hi. Is this Amy?”

“It sure is. Who’s this?”

“It’s Drew McCoy, and I think I need your help.”

He heard Amy laugh, and she said, “Well, this is a first. I usually hear from your teammates. How are you feeling? Didn’t you have surgery the day before yesterday?”

“I did, and that’s why I need your help. My mom is a little irritated with me at the moment. I’m wondering what you might recommend. I’d also like to send something to the woman I’m seeing, but I’m not sure what she might like.”

“An irritated mom is a new one,” Amy said. “This might call for fine jewelry. I know you just got out of the hospital, though, so you might not be in the mood for shopping. My brother-in-law knows his way around a jewelry store. Let me call him and get an opinion or two, and I’ll call you back. Is the number on my caller ID your phone?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’ll think about what the woman in your life might like as well. Talk to you in a few minutes.” She hung up.

“Sorry to eavesdrop, but that little Tiffany’s box can get you out of a hell of a lot of trouble once in a while,” Chuck said. He pulled into Burgermaster’s parking lot and parked in one of the stalls. “Maybe you should call your parents and ask if they’d like you to pick them up some food.”

“Good idea,” Drew said.

Twenty minutes later, the SUV was on its way to Drew’s house again with multiple bags of food and drinks, and Drew’s phone rang.

“Hey, McCoy,” Brandon McKenna said. He hadn’t lived in New Orleans for almost fifteen years now, but he’d never lost the accent. “How are you doin’? My sister Amy called. She says you’re in a jam.”

“My mom is mad at me. I know it’s ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” Brandon said. “I just happen to be at Tiffany’s at Bellevue Square right now. If I remember correctly, you live in Clyde Hill, don’t you?” The last year Brandon had played for the Sharks, Drew hosted the pre-function for the defensive players’ holiday dinner at his house. He was fairly sure his neighbors still remembered it too.

“Yeah. Just off the main drag,” Drew said.

“Got it.” Brandon let out a breath. “The last time my mama was irritated with me, I bought her a charm bracelet with “Mom” engraved on it. She cried and everything, man. How about I pick up one of those for you?”

“I think I have some cash.” Drew was already grabbing for his wallet to see how much cash he had. “How much will I owe you?”

“A couple hundred dollars and I’ll drop it by your house on the way home.”

“Deal. I’ll buy you a beer for your trouble.”

He heard Brandon’s booming laugh. “I’ll take you up on that beer. How about an interview for Sunday’s show too?”

After Brandon McKenna retired from the league, he took over Matt Stephens’ (also retired from the Sharks) seat on the Sunday morning pre-game show. Brandon was well-liked by viewers and his colleagues. He had no problem getting interviews with players, either: After all, he remembered what it was like to answer the same questions over and over. He didn’t ask the obvious, and his efforts were rewarded by the stature of players that would sit down with him and nobody else.

“As long as I don’t have to fly anywhere, you’ve got yourself an interview,” Drew said.

“We can do this at your house or at a studio in Seattle, whichever you prefer. Let’s discuss it when I get there. I should see you in the next half an hour or so.”

“Thanks, Brandon.”

“You’d do the same for me, man.”

“You’re right. I would.”

Chuck was pulling several bags of food and drinks from Burgermaster out of the SUV. Drew picked up the duffel bag he’d shoved clean underwear and socks into. There were also some written instructions on what to do with his shoulder, a couple of prescriptions, and a referral to a rehab doc. He knew the Sharks training staff would handle his ongoing care, but it was always good to have a variety of options.

He had hoped he’d make the trip up the stairs to his front door with Kendall. He’d wanted to spend the evening with her, despite the fact all he could do right now was talk. He missed her already. Hanging up on her was a dick move too.

No wonder the women in his life were disgusted with him right now. He felt like shit, but that was no excuse. His mom (and dad) dropped everything to come out and take care of him. The woman he cared for had also gone out of her way to spend even a few hours with him.

He needed to make amends. He’d better start now.

DREW AND CHUCK spread the burger feast over his dining room table. Drew’s dad’s face lit up as he grabbed a juicy cheeseburger and a chocolate shake out of one of the bags.

“Don’t tell your mother,” Neil said. “She’s restricting my red meat intake.”

“I’m already in trouble with Mom.” Drew dropped into a chair. “Where is she, anyway?”

“She’s taking a nap. We came back here last night and she still couldn’t sleep for worrying about you.” His dad sat down at the table. “She’ll be in a better mood when she wakes up.”

“She hasn’t acted like that since I was in high school and I missed curfew by an hour.” And he never did it again after listening to how scared his mom was he’d been in an accident or something. Maybe he was a mama’s boy, but he still called her first thing after the Sharks’ plane landed when they traveled to an away game. He loved his dad and he knew his dad loved him, but he knew his mom worried about her kids and grandkids.

“I’ll be taking a little nap myself after I finish this, Son.”

His dad reached out for a container of excellent fries and one of the small cups of ketchup they’d gotten with the order. Chuck and his colleague were devouring their food. Drew reached into the bag for a couple of cheeseburgers and grabbed his Tom & Jerry shake. He lifted it up to toast.

“Here’s to a speedy and complete recovery,” Drew’s dad said.

“Cheers,” the three other men said. The only noise in Drew’s dining room for the next fifteen minutes or so was crinkling paper and foil food wrappers and an occasional “Mmm.”

Drew’s front doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” he said and shoved himself to his feet. Damn shoulder.

Brandon McKenna stood on the porch with two small Tiffany’s carrier bags. Drew had talked with him several times before, but he knew his dad would love meeting him.

“C’mon in,” Drew said. “How about a beer? We’ve also got cheeseburgers and shakes, if you’re hungry.”

“My wife would appreciate it if I didn’t eat this close to dinner, but I will take a beer,” Brandon said. He reached out to shake Neil McCoy’s hand. “I’m Brandon,” he said. “Good to see you both too,” he said to Chuck.

Drew managed to get a beer and the bottle opener one-handed and delivered both to Brandon, who handed him one of the carrier bags in return.

“Your mama should love this. My mama hasn’t taken hers off since I gave it to her.”

“What’s in the other bag, guy?” Drew dug the cash out of his wallet and handed it to Brandon.

“I got my wife a high-heeled shoe charm for her bracelet.”

“That’s nice,” Chuck said.

“What’d you do?” Neil said, and the men sitting at Drew’s table burst into laughter.

“Well, it’s actually what I didn’t do.” Brandon passed one hand over his face. “I told my bride that I would handle things with our twin sons yesterday so she could go to some shoe sale at Nordstrom with her mama and her sister—”

“That was your first mistake,” Chuck joked. Brandon grinned at him.

“I was having lunch with a couple of my colleagues, and time got away from me. When I arrived at home, her mama and sister couldn’t break away, and my wife very sweetly told me she wasn’t happy about my behavior.” Brandon shook his head. “She doesn’t like missing a good shoe sale. Plus, our boys are mobile now. A visit to the ladies’ shoe department wouldn’t have ended well.” He glanced around the table. “They take after their daddy.”

“Has she forgiven you yet?”

“Let’s put it this way: I apologized. She puts up with a lot from the three men in her life. She accepted my apology, but wait until she finds out what else I’ve got up my sleeve.”

“What might that be?” Drew asked.

“The shoe people are visiting our house tomorrow night. I’m taking the twins out for ice cream with their grandpas while my wife, her sister, and our mamas sip champagne, eat appetizers, and buy some shoes.”

“That’s going to get expensive,” Drew said.

“She’s worth it. I can’t wait to see the look on her face.” The other guys at the table teased Brandon a little, but he grinned at them. “My mama didn’t raise any stupid children. With that, I’d better be on my way home. Thanks for the beer, Drew, and we’ll be here at nine tomorrow for the interview, if that will work.”

“Sure,” Drew said. He gestured toward his shoulder. “I’ll try to find something to wear.”

“The production assistants will take care of that. Don’t worry about it.”

Brandon got to his feet, shook hands with everyone, and hurried out to his car.

Drew walked back into the dining room, picked up the Tiffany’s bag, and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll put a shake in the freezer for your mom, Son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Drew trudged up two flights of stairs that he would have run up last week. He needed a little time to think. Maybe he needed to solicit advice from McKenna: The guy was obviously crazy in love with his wife, and he knew they had had to make some pretty big adjustments so his opera diva wife could keep working after their sons were born. If he wanted to get anywhere with Kendall (after he apologized profusely for hanging up on her) he’d better be willing to make some compromises himself.

He tapped on the guest room door next to his bedroom. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“Come on in, honey,” she said.

He shoved the door open with his shoulder while hiding the little carrier bag behind his back. “Are you okay? You were pretty upset earlier. I’m sorry for what I did.”