Finally (2 page)

I laughed and looked at my friend. “They call you Q? Like you’re a rapper or something?”

The joke wasn’t received with the easy smile I was used to.

In fact, Quinn seemed nervous, but managed, “I have no say with the team.”

“You love us, chica.” Dawn looped an arm around her.

“What’s the story with you?” She shot her eyes back to me.

“Me? I’m secretly hoping that Q, here,” I tapped a hand against the solid shoulder next to me, “will get me a tryout on the team. I fi gure I’ll throw people off with my size. I just hope talent isn’t a necessary requirement.”

The twosome stared at me, not quite sure what to make of me.

Not everyone got my sarcastic sense of humor. “Oh-kaay,” Iris drew out, still making up her mind. “You’ve been hanging out a lot with our friend here.”

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Continuing with the lighthearted tone, I replied, “That’s because I’m holding her loved ones hostage. I fi nd it’s an effective way to make people spend time with me.”

Snapping out of her quiet mood, Quinn laughed along with her teammates. “Listen, guys, I swear I just saw you both a couple hours ago. I’m dead tired, and I’m sure Willa has something better to do than be grilled by you.”

“Hey, no problem. We just wanted to meet her, that’s all.

You’ve been so secretive. We thought you might be having some torrid affair. You know us, we wanted to embarrass you if at all possible,” Dawn said.

“Very thoughtful,” I joked, catching what looked like a fl ush appear on my friend’s cheeks. “It was nice meeting you both.”

They stood, towering over me. “Same here. Too bad you weren’t scandalous. That woulda been really fun at practice.”

“Guess you’ll have to get used to disappointment.” I waited for them to retreat before I commented sarcastically, “They seem like a pain in the ass.”

Quinn laughed, a little more at ease once they’d left her line of sight. “They’re young. At practice it’s fun, but when we’re checking in at airports or hotels, I just want to disappear while they’re talking.”

“So, that’s it.” The earlier subdued mood made sense now.

“I’ve got friends like that. You never know what’s going to come out of their mouths. It does keep you on your toes.”

Blue eyes studied me for a moment while the waitress appeared and served our food. “Yeah. Sorry if they embarrassed you.”

Tilting my head slightly, I looked directly at my tablemate.

“They didn’t, really. They seem like fun.” I hesitated a moment then asked a question I normally wouldn’t think was any of my business. “Is everything okay? You get along with your team, right? I just assumed you did. You always look like you’re having 9

Lynn Galli

fun at the shoot around with them before games.”

“Sure, they’re great, but I’m not like them. On nights like tonight, it becomes very evident. They’re probably on their way out dancing or something. I might go shoot some pool with them every once in a while, but they’re out every night. I don’t remember ever doing that. Clubbing all night then jumping on a plane fi rst thing to get to a game that night. It doesn’t make any sense. That’s what I mean about them being young.”

I could relate. As much traveling as I’d done with my coworkers, I never joined in their reindeer games after a long day with them.

Before I could agree, a voice called out from the sidewalk.

“Willa?”

Without needing to turn around, I knew it belonged to my last boyfriend. I winced, not wanting to see or speak to this guy and certainly not in front of Quinn, but he’d already crossed into the patio area.

“Chip,” I spoke his name in what I hoped was the civil tone he was used to hearing. He had the impression that ours was a let’s-be-friends breakup whereas I knew better, having grown sick of feeling nothing in another meaningless relationship.

“Will, it’s been ages.” He bent down to kiss my cheek, and I felt myself fl inch. “Yes. Well, this is my friend, Quinn Lysander.

Quinn, this is Chip Taglio.”

She stood to shake Chip’s hand. I took note of his height, about four inches taller than Quinn. How hadn’t that annoyed me while we were dating? His classic Italian good looks probably had something to do with it. Some people put a lot into the whole tall, dark, and handsome routine. For me, he’d been there and interested, so I’d gone for it.

“I can’t stay long,” he was saying, not that anyone had asked him to stay. “I just wanted to say hello. It’s been at least two years, hasn’t it? I’ve tried calling a few times to see how you’re 10

Finally

doing, but maybe you never got the messages?” I nodded in that noncommittal way where it started as a “yes” then bobbed into a

“no.” “You’re happy, obviously. You must be seeing someone?”

Forcing myself not to even glance at Quinn, I met his eyes. He didn’t need to know that I’d starting feeling like these dinners with Quinn were more than just two friends hanging out. She didn’t need to know that either. I was still in the middle of convincing myself it was nothing more than giddiness at fi nding a good friend.

Chip smirked his version of a sexy smile. The warm breeze on the patio mixed with the heat from my growing embarrassment.

He squeezed his arm around my shoulders. “Still very private, I see. Whoever he is, he better know he’s damn lucky.” His voice held that annoying wistful quality that accompanied regret. Could the evening get any more uncomfortable?

“Good to see you, Chip.” I tried to pull out of his one-armed restraint.

“Uh, sure.” He seemed surprised by my dismissal. “We should go to dinner sometime soon, Wills. I’d like to catch up.

See how things are going for you.”

“Nice seeing you.” The response satisfi ed me. Hopefully, it would be enough to rid Chip of the table.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek again and intentionally captured my mouth. I could feel myself fl ushing red, embarrassed that he’d show this kind of affection in public when we were no longer together and in front of a friend that he’d just met. “Bye, Wills,” he attempted an intimate voice. Glancing at Quinn, he gave a friendly wave then departed.

“Wills?” Quinn mocked good-naturedly.

Heat touched my cheeks, fl ushed again from the tease. “Oh, I don’t limit myself to just wills. No, I cover the whole spectrum of estate law.”

Her laugh eased my embarrassment. “So, Chip?”

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“Salvatore, actually, but his family called him Chip, for chip off the old block, if you can believe it.” I knew I wasn’t giving a complete answer, but I wanted off the uncomfortable topic.

She nodded, trying to keep her curiosity from showing. The ensuing silence must have gotten the better of her because she asked outright, “Old boyfriend?” Something in her intrigued stare told me that she had a vested interest in the answer. It lasted for just a moment until genuine curiosity took over.

“Old mistake,” I replied, watching Chip step into a building two blocks away. When I realized how insulting my remark might sound, I turned back to clarify. Her look told me I didn’t need to explain.

“Have you ever had long hair?” The subject change caught me by surprise.

“No.” I took a sip from my coffee mug. “I’ve never been able to get it to grow out past my shoulders. People have been commenting on haircuts I’ve never gotten my whole life.”

Quinn’s hand lifted from the table and casually touched my hair. Delicate fi ngers weaved in along the curve of my ear.

“Maybe it’s the curls. They have a mind of their own. Perhaps they don’t like being weighed down? You don’t color your hair, do you?”

“Please, would anyone really choose ‘plain brown’ as a hair color?” I laughed, a nervous reaction to being touched so tenderly.

“You do realize we’re talking about hair, right? Have we really run out of things to chat about that we’re left with a subject that neither of us ever thinks twice about?”

Quinn laughed and pulled back her hand. “You’re right. It just struck me sitting out here in the sun how nicely your hair and eye color go together.”

Now I gave her a doubtful look. “Right, brown hair and brown eyes, really diffi cult to mismatch that combo. You, on the other hand: fl axen russet dye and implausibly blue contacts, I 12

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don’t know who you think you’re fooling.”

At the obvious tease, Quinn’s face cracked into a wide smile.

She’d probably spent a lifetime hoping people would notice her athletic ability rather than her beauty fi rst. I looked away, realizing that I’d allowed my mind to consider again how striking she was. I had to stop this. We were becoming good friends, and I was going to ruin it by letting my mind wander toward intimate thoughts. The poor woman had enough admirers at her games.

She didn’t need her friends drooling all over her, too.

“Well, we’d better get going.” Pushing my chair back, I didn’t give her the chance to disagree. I needed to distance myself otherwise I might do something inappropriate. And shocking, at least to me.

“Okay.” She stood unenthusiastically. Money dropped onto the table before she could object. “Wait, I invited you. I’ll pay.”

“You paid last time, remember?” I gently pressed on her back to propel us from the table. As soon as I had us moving, I dropped my hand. Touching Quinn wasn’t a good idea for someone whose thoughts kept returning to intimacy.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said as we approached my car.

“My pleasure. Thanks for the company.” And for the unfettered access to daydreams about something that could never be.

For a moment, Quinn stood very still. Then slowly she leaned in, her arms slipping around my back.

She’s hugging me, I thought. When was the last time I’d been hugged? Nearly a year, when a friend had come into town for a visit. This hug didn’t feel the same, especially when she pressed closer and a strong thumping drummed against my ear. The sound drew my arms up from my sides to squeeze her in return.

“That was my pleasure,” she whispered and stood back from the hug. Briefl y our eyes met then she was walking off to her car, calling out an airy goodnight.

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Therapy. That was what I’d need to help fi gure out what just happened. For now, the light touch of her body against my own and the breath on my ear as she said the word “pleasure” started an apprehensive pumping of my heart.

14

THREE

Quinn looked up, searching the stands. Section 101, Row 17

on the aisle. It wasn’t always easy to spot from the court, but she made a point of looking up there every game and glancing occasionally whenever she was on the bench.

Willa Lacey had gotten under her skin. She’d had other non-basketball related friends in the few years she’d been on the team, but they’d always wanted to go places to be seen with her.

They’d always wanted some piece of her. She’d known that from the start with most of them. Willa was different. Very different, and she didn’t know what to do about that.

Spotting her, she lifted a hand to wave, trying for casual but feeling like a liar. Nothing about this friendship was casual to her.

It was important. Crucial really, and she couldn’t put her fi nger on why it felt so vital. She just knew that she had to maintain it.

That losing it would crush her.

She’d never felt that way about any friendship. She’d probably lost more friends with all her relocations than most people had made in their lifetimes. She’d never been torn up about it. It was something else to deal with, a result of her out of the ordinary job. She fi gured when she was fi nally done with the basketball, done playing on one team in the summer, coaching in the winter, and playing for a European team in the spring, she’d fi nally be able to make some lasting friendships. Coaches didn’t have the 15

Lynn Galli

groupies that pro ball players did. Assistant coaches especially.

She could make friends that would want to be her friend for her, not for the chance that she might be spotted out in public.

But here she was, at least three to fi ve years before she planned to retire, and she’d made that kind of friend. The kind that could make her rethink her plan and any golden opportunities thrown her way. That was a dangerous kind of friend. She had to be open to anything. Careers in basketball after the WNBA were fl eeting.

Having an anchor that could keep her from being able to accept what she needed to advance in her future was not a smart idea.

She knew this and had known it since she realized how fi ckle friendships were when she became semi-famous. Just take them at face value and move on when she had to leave for her career.

She could tell herself this all she wanted, but with that quick smile and shy wave from the small fi gure up in the crowd, it was hard to convince herself that this friendship was the kind she’d always been warning herself against.

***

“Did I just pay twenty bucks for a bland beer and a hotdog that wouldn’t satisfy a kid’s appetite?” My best friend, Nykos, whined as he slumped into his seat. He’d never even liked basketball until I’d taken him to a game, and now, he went to almost all of them. When Nykos got hooked, only a 12-step program could pull him away.

I felt his thigh and arm brush against me as he settled his large frame into a seat that was built for people two-thirds his size. As long as I’d known him, he’d been overweight, lazy, and balding, even as a college student. Twelve years later, I’d stopped noticing his size and receding hairline. His loyalty, caring, and humor always overpowered. Now that we were trying to start a business together, I couldn’t ignore the laziness anymore. Before 16

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the summer was over, I was going to get his ass in gear or shut down the effort.

Ignoring his attempt to get comfy in the too small seat, I focused on the court. The team was heading off to the locker room for the fi nal pre-game meeting. Many of the players stopped to sign autographs for the fans leaning over the rail by the locker room. Some were talking to the usual fanatics behind the Storm bench. I watched as Quinn turned and looked up at my section.