Round 29

T he door flung open, and William’s eyes darted between Shaun and me until we stepped apart.

“I heard voices. What’s going on?” William asked, taking me in as he always did.

I passed Shaun the quickest of looks, and he understood it. After years of working together, Shaun and I could basically communicate telepathically. I didn’t want William to know about my conversation with Mr. Markham. Knowing what I knew now, he would feel responsible. Or worse, like he’d ruined everything.

“Nothing,” I said. “Work sucks, and I really want to hear about the game review. Please put me out of my misery.”

William’s eyes narrowed, his expression hard and unplayful. But William was William, and we had been playing our game long enough that I knew which moves would suck him in.

I shot him a coy smile and pushed past him with a whisper. “William, I struggled to sleep last night, plagued by too many dreams, and now I need you to come and talk to me.”

I sat on the couch and waited, watching as he fought back a smile and dragged himself to the couch, falling into a heap beside me. He was warm and sleepy, the smell of pine and lavender still lingering around him. It must be his shampoo.

“Well, they loved it. They literally told me so.” He turned to me, offering me his sweet dimple. “I could see it in the way they played.”

“No, no, no.” I kicked off my shoes and curled my feet underneath me. “Start from the beginning—from the instant you stepped into their offices. What was it like? Had they already played the other finalists’ games? How old were they?”

William’s eyes lit up, and he threw his head back before giving me a dramatic sigh. “Fine. It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, and the flowers were in bloom. I approached their office and rang the buzzer. The buzzer had thirteen buttons and—”

“William!” I poked at his ribs.

He flinched away but immediately came back as though there were something pulling him toward me. I wanted to move closer to him too, to sit in the bend his chest made when he slouched forward.

He wiped his face with his hands. “They called me in at exactly eleven. There were five of them, ranging from about early twenties to late sixties. I’m not sure. They all dressed very casually. It reminded me of my office.”

He paused as Shaun passed him a cup of coffee. I waited, resisting the urge to grind my teeth as he took his time inhaling the scent of the rich brew and blowing over the rim of his cup. He was doing it on purpose.

“I’ll remember this.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

Now I had his attention.

“Okay!” He laughed.

Such a delightful sound.

“So,” he continued, “I handed them the game, and they used the same rule and instruction sheet you submitted to set it up. It took them a few minutes, maybe two minutes longer than Lincoln did the other day. One of the men timed it and made note of it, but he nodded while doing it. It seemed positive.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I let them pick their markers. I ended up being the scientist. The game lasted for about two and a half hours or so, pretty much on schedule with what we predicted. But there was some conversation in between, which also seemed like something they were marking on.”

“What do you mean?” I gulped down the rest of his coffee. It was hot, but my entire body was already burning with excitement.

“Some of it seemed rehearsed. I think they were testing to see if chatting throws the game off or if it enhances it. I don’t know. They wouldn’t explain it.”

I huffed out a frustrated breath.

“I did ask,” he offered.

“You didn’t fight them about it, did you?” Shaun asked, obviously still unimpressed at William’s physical altercation.

William side-eyed his brother and then turned his focus back on me. “When it ended, they asked me a few basic questions about you—why I think you created this game, and why I think you should win, et cetera.” He bit down on his lip, his playful eyes wide-awake now.

“Curveball. I should have sent Neema.”

“What did you say?” Shaun asked him.

“Oh, I told them she’s the most ridiculous woman in the world and they’d be better off letting her win instead of trying to explain why she didn’t.” He smiled, nudging me with his shoulder.

It felt so good having him here. I considered nudging him again, just to touch him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He studied me again, glancing at Shaun briefly as if wishing him away. “Are you okay?”

“Did they say when they’d let us know?” Shaun asked.

“They said they needed to play another two games. They wouldn’t tell me which ones, either.” William huffed, clearly annoyed with the secrecy in how the games were being judged. “But it shouldn’t take long.”

Before I could question him further, Neema texted, letting me know she was downstairs to pick me up for our last pole dancing class. With everything going on, that had completely slipped my mind. I made vague excuses to leave since the boys still had no idea what Neema had in store for them this weekend.

“I’ll come down,” Shaun said, happily running ahead.

I turned to follow, but William pulled me back into the apartment and kissed me until my entire body hummed. When our lips parted, I gazed into his eyes, searching for answers. But I saw as much confusion as I felt.

I turned to leave, but he tugged me back for another kiss, his hands touching all the places my body had missed him.

“One second you’re giving me one-word texts, and the next you’re doing this. I’m getting emotional whiplash.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d want me to tell you about it in person.”

“Obviously. But you could have, like, added an x or an emoji or something to your texts,” I said angrily.

“This one?” He made the silliest kissy face, which was also somehow incredibly attractive.

Silly, silly man.

“Yes, that one,” I replied.

“Wanted to do that in person as well.” His lips kicked up on one end.

I rolled my eyes. “And last night? What was going on with you?”

“That’s a long story, and I’m trying to figure it out. I have a plan, kind of. I’ll be good enough. I just need some time to finish it…” He glanced away and, before I could question his statement, he turned his gaze back on me. “What was going on with you and Shaun when I opened the door earlier?”

“That’s a long story, and I’m trying to figure it out. I have a plan, kind of,” I mimicked.

We tutted at each other, and I wrenched him toward me for one last, frustrated kiss. If I was not getting answers, I would still get kisses. As I pulled away, ready to storm off, he wrapped his hand around my wrist.

“I was scared last night.” His features contorted as though admitting it caused him physical pain. “I don’t get scared often.”

I touched his chest, feeling the vulnerability radiating from him. It left a surprising taste in my mouth, and all I wanted was to protect him. “What do you mean? What were you scared of?”

“Of ruining this opportunity for you.”

His tone was softer than ever before. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.

“William.” I gazed up at him, searching for the words that would make his pain go away. Searching for a way to shield him from his own thoughts.

Swallowing hard, he said, “There’s something I need to tell you, but I just…”

Before he could say whatever was on his mind, Shaun’s footsteps echoed down the hall and William loosened his grip.

Approaching us, Shaun casually slapped me on the shoulder as he walked inside. “Neema said you’ll be late for your Pilates class.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I looked up at William, hoping he’d tell me whatever he’d planned to say.

With half a smile, he leaned against the doorframe. “Another time. Good night, Rose.”

Rose . Would I ever get used to him calling me that?

What was it William wanted to tell me?

The question plagued me all the way to pole dancing class, which, even I had to admit, was fun.

This week we were working on the final move, what the instructor called the Ballet and Inside Hook. While I still felt like a child applying their mother’s makeup and putting on a fashion show, I had to admit the progress we had made was phenomenal.

When we began learning this move, the instructor had us plank. Invariably, I’d collapse at the twelve-second mark and lie there waiting for the buzzer. Now I could do it a full sixty seconds while still having control over my limbs the next morning. I was shocked and amazed I didn’t have six defined abs already.

While we rehearsed, I told Neema everything William had reported about the meeting, only leaving out the thing he’d left unsaid.

“In all the years I’ve dated Shaun, I can count on one hand how many times William has been awake before noon. I imagine he drove there half-asleep.” She laughed. “I guess he really likes your game.”

A warmth crept into my chest, and I found myself unable to keep the smile off my face. It was becoming a habit at the mention of him. “I guess so.”

Neema shot me a suspicious look, but then I landed a wicked spin, and she paused to cheer me on.

“Last chance to let me add a few sexy moves into this routine,” the instructor said in almost a plea.

“Nope. I don’t want my girls to be uncomfortable,” Neema said, making my heart soar. “Rose has tried backing out several times already.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this routine is kinda boring.”

The instructor brought her thumb and forefinger together. “Just a lil’ bit. Let’s add some spice.”

But Neema reached out and pinched my arm. “I love this routine. It’s fun and silly and kinda impressive, and that reminds me of us.” She turned toward the instructor. “But I will be using those other moves for the private show.”

I burst out laughing.

“Besides, we could go up there and do nothing and the boys would love it,” Neema said, her eyes shooting over to mine.

My throat went dry, and I looked away first before spilling all my secrets.

But she wasn’t wrong. The boys would love this.

When the endorphins eventually wore off, I curled up in bed wearing my favorite dinosaur pajamas and stared at my phone. William and I weren’t done talking. There was so much left in the air that we wouldn’t be able to walk through it without hitting our heads on something. I typed out several texts, deleting each one over and over.

My finger hovered above the dial button, but I didn’t want to do this over the phone or text. And I knew, whatever it was, he’d have told me by now if he wanted to.

I wanted to see his face. I wanted to feel his warmth. Hear his laugh. I wanted that pine and lavender smell to rub off on me.

Since I couldn’t have any of that, I called my mom.

“My Rosie!” she shouted into the phone.

“No, my Rosie!” my dad shouted, challenging her immediately.

“Hello, Mom. Hello, Dad,” I said to their faces in the camera.

“I was starting to get worried! You haven’t called us in ages,” my mom said.

Because of my mother’s warning about Patrick and the relationship of sorts with William, I struggled to face her. I either wanted to force her to tell me the truth about Patrick or force myself to tell her the truth about William. I wasn’t good with secrets.

And if there was anything I knew about my mother, it’s that she wouldn’t break a promise. Assuming she’d promised Patrick she would keep his secret, it was certainly safe with her.

“I have been texting,” I said.

“How’s the game, sugar?” my dad asked.

“Sugar?” I swallowed my laughter.

“Oh, just go with it.” My mom waved her hand as if my dad wasn’t seated beside her.

I launched into the full story, giving them every bit of information William had given me. My mom and dad gasped and cheered at all the right moments. Talking to them was like talking to the small part of me that loved myself.

My dad wandered off mid-call for a smoke after saying, “Good night, sugar.”

“He lasted three months this time,” my mom said proudly. “Next time, I think we’ll hit six.”

Every year, my dad swore he would give up smoking, and every year he did—for a few months before taking it back up again with the most elaborate excuses.

“What was his excuse this time?”

She looked around, making sure he wasn’t within earshot. “He said he remembers I thought he was sexy when he smoked. But it was the eighties.” She shrugged. “Anyway, how’s work?”

I suddenly regretted this call.

“Next!” I shouted.

“How’s Patrick?” She glanced sideways while asking, ensuring I could read nothing from her eyes.

“He hasn’t contacted me yet. Mom, please tell me what this is about. It’s been weeks, and I’m on edge.”

She frowned, and I thought perhaps I’d get something out of her. Instead, she yelled, “Next!”

Well played, Mom. Well played.