Barrett

PRESENT DAY

“So now you’re caught up,” I tell Beth, who’s expression is pure sympathy with a healthy dash of—

“Oh, Bare.”

That.

“Told you I fucked up.”

“You really did.”

“Thanks. That’s helpful.”

“How long ago was this?” Her tone is half disappointment and half familiarity. We’ve been down this road before. Only…we haven’t. What I feel for Catarina is ten times what I ever felt for Beth. It was somehow more real in spite of us faking it.

“Eight days.” Feels more like eight years.

“Did you call her?”

I nod. “Called. Texted. Went to her house. Visited the newspaper’s office. I’m banned, by the way.” I took Catarina’s advice and went to talk to Mia that day. I did some more yelling, accused Mia of outing me, and then I threatened to sue her. My tirade was detailed on the Chat the next day in an article written by Mia herself under the headline: BARRETT FOX LOSES HIS COOL.

She wasn’t exaggerating when she said what happens in the bullpen is fair game.

Beth shakes her head again, pitying me for reasons I deserve. Not because I’m a formerly poor, currently dyslexic man from the ugly part of town, but because I’m a shallow, stubborn, jerk who didn’t give my girlfriend the benefit of the doubt.

“This should set your mind at ease.” I lean back in my chair. “Now you know our problems were my fault.”

“You are a terrible listener. And you have a temper.”

“Seriously?” I grumble because if there’s one thing I don’t need it’s a pile-on.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…this is so sad.”

“Tell me about it.” Every night I lay and stare at the ceiling, trying to come up with a way to win Catarina back. My flowers were returned. My messages ignored. I have no idea how to make her listen. I think about her constantly and it’s paired with a pain so acute I wonder if it’ll ever cease. I wonder if she’ll forgive me if I allow enough time to pass or if it’s one-and-done with her.

I think of her ex-boyfriend Northrop and my heart sinks. Catarina is a one-strike-you’re-out kind of girl.

There’s also another conclusion I’ve come to—one I knew all along but chose to ignore.

“She can do better.”

“Barrett Fox,” Beth hisses. “Now that’s bullshit. She sounds like a woman who can choose anyone she wants. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, and she’s successful. She chose you. You may have been on her radar because of the assignment, but what about what happened when you weren’t? What about the in-between moments? Were you pretending then, too?”

Not even a little.

“You’re making me sound like a catch.” I give her a wan smile that literally hurts. I’m miserable as hell.

“You are. To her. But you’re also an arrogant, stubborn jerk.” Before I become offended, she amends with, “Which means you should be chasing her down not sitting here with me talking about the one who got away. This isn’t you, Barrett. You go after what you want. Do you want her? Like, for real? Not because you want to win but because there’s something there worth pursuing?”

She twists the engagement ring on her finger so that it catches the light.

“Is there a future that’s uncertain, but you want it all the same?” Her voice takes on a reflective quality like she’s asking herself that question. “A thrill ride that scares you but you can’t resist buckling in for it?”

Beth’s focus returns when she snaps her eyes up at mine. “I know what I choose. What about you?”

“Food for thought, I guess.”

“Stubborn.” She stands from her chair and leans down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll invite you to the wedding.”

“I’ll come,” I warn her.

“Bring Catarina with you.” She pushes open the café door, leaving me and my new pal Misery sitting at the table.

Catarina

“Everyone. Conference room. Now.” Mia snaps her fingers as she marches across the office. “You have to see this.”

It’s late on a Saturday night thanks to an “all hands on deck” request from our fearless editor. Mia is pulling together another one of her brilliant ideas but I’ve opted to stay put in my relationships column and stay out of the limelight. Nanci’s been wanting to make a play for lead journalist, so I tell myself that stepping out of the way will allow her the chance.

A day after I left Barrett eating my dust in the parking lot of my apartment building, I came to Mia with a resignation letter. I let her know under no uncertain terms that I may not find another job I love as much as writing for the Chat, but I couldn’t condone her behavior by staying here and supporting her.

The next day Mia called me into her office where I sat down with not one, but two, bigwigs who run this very newspaper. Mia apologized in front of our audience, approved a pay raise she accurately assumed wouldn’t be enough, and then admitted that she overstepped and would never alter my column again.

She was so sincere I left promising to think about it and after a sleepless night in bed determined that giving up wasn’t my style. So here I am. Not giving up.

Go me.

In the conference room, Mia flips on the flat screen television. ESPN. “I just received a call from Tom Lawson’s assistant. Look at our boy.”

Barrett’s on screen, not on the field but at a table with a pair of sportscasters I recognize. Tom Lawson and Sean Simmons. Their smiles are as plastic as their hair.

“Sports Center was fortunate enough to land an exclusive with Barrett Fox, former defensive lineman for the Miami Dolphins,” Sean says. “After a shoulder injury devastated his career, he made his way back onto the field announcing games for his alma mater, the Ohio State Buckeyes…”

My eyes are locked on Barrett. He’s clean-shaven, his hair in a neat, stylish part, and his half smile is relaxed and easy. If there is any pain in his blue, blue eyes over us losing everything we had, I don’t see it. I didn’t know I could feel any more devastated by our breakup until now.

“Barrett, thanks for agreeing to sit with us,” Tom Lawson says. “We’ve been clamoring for a reaction to the column that ran in the Columbus Dispatch two weeks ago—” Tom is drowned out by the applause and cheers of my co-workers.

“Shh! Shh!” Mia gestures for everyone to keep it down, but she’s smiling. She loves this shit.

“What everyone wants to know is how much of what ended up in the column was real and how much of it was for show?”

“The dyslexia, Tom, is one hundred percent real. I didn’t intend to share it but it came out. I didn’t want the attention. It wasn’t a publicity stunt.”

“Come on,” Sean says with a laugh, “Barrett ‘Bad Boy of the NFL’ Fox doesn’t want attention for something?”

A shot of our web page appears on the screen showing our column, and Barrett’s and my headshots. More cheers and applause come from my co-workers while my stomach flips. The headache creeps from the back of my skull to the front and curls around my eye socket.

“Eat it up, honey!” Mia nudges me with an elbow. “Part of you has to be enjoying this. Your beloved column made national news.”

I’m tempted to ask “at what price?” but I don’t have the energy for that conversation. Instead I say, “I thought you were mad at him.”

“We go where the dollars take us,” she says and that pretty much sums up Mia.

I watch the TV for a few seconds longer, until Barrett mentions my name—not Kitty Cat, but Catarina, my nickname one of the few details that managed to stay out of our column—and says “what a pleasure it was” to work with me.

Arms folded, I face Mia. “Looks like you and Barrett Fox have everything you ever wanted.”

“Unfortunately, Catarina Everhart and I don’t speak any longer,” Barrett’s talking head says.

I turn to the screen, aware of my co-workers watching my face for even the slightest muscle tic. I remain mannequin-still, refusing to give them an ounce of satisfaction.

“Did something go wrong?” TV Tom asks.

“Yeah. I went wrong.” Barrett’s mouth forms a frown. “I went way wrong.”

“You can’t say that and nothing more,” Tom chides. “I read the articles. Unless you were faking it, there seemed to be a spark there.”

“Like you know anything about sparks, Tom.” Sean emits a canned laugh, but my focus is on Barrett. The way his eyes lower to his folded hands and sadness seems to coat him. “We’ll be back after this with more from Barrett Fox on ESPN.”

Mia mutes the TV and everyone in the room trains their gazes on me—most of them wide-eyed.

“What?” I ask.

A few of them smile.

“What happens next?” Nanci asks, her smile bigger than anyone’s.

“My guess is they come back from commercial break, announce that Barrett has been offered his field reporting gig again, and then—”

“He shows up right behind you to tell you how it ends in person,” a low voice rumbles over my shoulder.

I turn slowly, my emotions a hectic tangle of anger and regret and love. Barrett Fox stands in the doorway of the conference room wearing the same suit from his ESPN interview.

“It’s prerecorded, Kitty Cat. I’m fast, but not that fast.” His sideways smile twists my heart.

“How did you get in?” I ask numbly.

“Mia owed me a favor.” He looks over my shoulder. “And this better be on the record.”

“I’ll report every word,” Nanci promises. I turn to find her videoing every second on her iPhone.

“I don’t think so,” I tell Barrett as I start for the exit. “You had your chance.”

“I know.” He blocks the doorway with one arm. “I blew it. Big time.”

“I know. I was there.” I steel myself against the misery that’s been swamping me since the day I left him standing on the boiling hot asphalt. Since I blocked his phone number on my cellphone and ignored a voicemail from Dax’s adorable wife, Becca. I added Barrett’s name to the “no entry” list at my apartment building and instructed everyone in this office not to patch his calls through to me.

“We can’t be done,” he tells me. “I’m not done.”

“That’s too bad.” Self-preservation is my only ally. Two heartbreaks this summer were plenty. “I am done. We are so done.”

“I’m not used to things working out in my favor,” he continues like I didn’t speak. “When they do work out, it’s jarring. The good is too…unbelievable. When I was picked at the draft to play with Miami, I was certain bad news was around the corner. Bad always follows good. It’s as inevitable as death and taxes. Sure, you get to play ball in college, but you have to lose sleep and miss parties with friends thanks to your pal dyslexia keeping your grades low. You move to Miami, earn your parents’ pride, and then they die in a collision with Jack Daniel’s riding shotgun. Your brother gets his shit together, then he fucks up and you don’t see your nephew for a year.” He pauses, lowers his voice. “You land the girl of your dreams by being yourself, and then lose her for exactly the same reason.”

“I heard you won back a particular girl several times over a spotty period of six years.”

“Wrong girl,” he says with a shrug.

“You thought she was the right one at the time.”

“I didn’t know she was the wrong one until I fell in love with you.”

I miss what he says next because his words echo in my ears. I fell in love with you.

“…and I was too much of a coward to use the big L word,” he’s saying when I tune back in, “but that’s what I meant when I told you that you wrecked me the night we made love on the governor’s wife’s faux fur coat.”

Gasps lift on the air and Barrett smiles.

“He’s kidding,” I say to Nanci’s iPhone.

“I haven’t said a single word that’s untrue tonight. But I said several I didn’t mean the day I accused you of outing my dyslexia to the world.”

I have no words. It’s too much. I’ve been packing my heart with stones and my stomach with carbs since he walked away. Grieving has seven stages and I’m determined to work through each one as quickly as possible.

“You never needed an excuse to date me,” he says. “You needed a reason. A really good one. I managed to give you a good enough reason to date me, but I failed to give you a good reason to stay.”

“Accusing me of sleeping with you for the assignment didn’t help.”

“No. It didn’t.” He points to the television. “You’re going to want to see this part.”

Mia, remote in hand, turns up the volume on the TV.

The newsmen are laughing and Barrett’s next to them, smiling. He looks good—but not as good as he does standing next to me.

“Thanks for the exclusive, Fox. Is there anything you want to say to Catarina Everhart that might land you back in her good graces?”

TV Barrett blows out a gusty breath and shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know.”

“How about this? Look into that camera right there, and give it a shot,” Sean says.

Real Barrett takes my hand, his fingers weaving with mine, and we watch his onscreen image look into the camera. He squeezes my fingers and says the words at the same time.

“Catarina, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll serenade you every night for the rest of our lives. And we’ll do wake and shake every morning.”

My cheeks burn from embarrassment.

“What’s ‘wake and shake’?” Nanci asks, sweeping her iPhone from the television to Barrett and me.

“Sounds intriguing,” Mia purrs.

Barrett grins. I feel like slapping him but he’s holding my dominant hand.

“You did not just say that on national television,” I whisper.

“Bad boy comes with the package, honey.” A second later he drops the cocky smile. “I’m lost without you in my life. I’m lonely. I’m sad. And I’m tired of sitting around feeling like shit because I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. You have a right to be angry. What I did was unforgivable. I’m begging, Kitty Cat.” He gently squeezes my hand. “Forgive me even though you shouldn’t. Give me a second chance even though I don’t deserve it. You’re the toughest woman I know. The most independent woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want to lose out on the love of a lifetime because you’re trying to prove to yourself that you’re okay. Gimme a chance to show you that you’re not okay without me. I’m a hard worker. I’ve overcome several hurdles in my professional career to stand here in front of you. Give me a chance to leap a personal one, too. Please?”

I hear a tearful sniff from behind me, and then another. Mine rounds out a trio.

“That”—I clear my throat—“was a good speech.”

“I’ve been writing it for a week-plus.”

I let out a watery laugh.

“What else can I say? What can I do? I’m quick on my feet on the field, Catarina, but I’m at sea when it comes to you. I’ve already screwed up, and I don’t want to do it again.”

“What’s the song you and Burke sang on stage at the festival?”

“ ‘More Than Words’? Want me to sing it?” He casts a quick look around at our audience. “I will.”

“No. I want you to follow the advice. If you want to win me back it’s going to take more than words to win me. You have to show me.”

“I can do that.” He releases my hand and pulls me against his body. My breasts press his chest as he bends, his lips hovering over mine. “I need to know one thing first.”

“There’s a caveat?”

“Afraid so. You said you were falling. Did you hit the ground yet?”

I feel the tear trickle from the corner of my eye.

“So hard,” I admit, my voice cracking. “Broken-bones hard.”

He pulls away and I see him wince. “Can I fix it?”

“Fox”—I bat my eyelashes, but it’s no use. I’m a sniffling mess—“You’re the only one who can.”

He lays his lips on mine. Drinking in his kiss is like breathing after being underwater for a very long time. My lungs burn, my heart ratchets up a few notches, and my brain races to process everything that’s just happened.

Everything that’s still happening.

Barrett drops his forehead on mine, his breathing uneven, his arms holding me tight. “Can I follow you home?”

“You mean like a puppy?”

“Like gum stuck to your shoe. The really nasty kind you find at a fair with a cigarette butt stuck in it.”

I laugh. Only he could say something like that in the middle of a romantic gesture and remain completely likeable.

“Holy crap! Quarterback Joe Noll just commented!” Nanci exclaims.

Barrett and I face her.

“Sorry to interrupt.” She offers a sheepish smile.

“Commented on what?” I ask.

“You’re live, kids.” Mia, who’s standing behind Nanci with the rest of our co-workers, waggles her fingers in a wave.

“Live?” I gulp.

“On the Chat’s social media feed,” Nanci confirms.

“In that case”—Barrett grabs me again, this time lifting me into his arms—“let’s not let Quarterback Joe Noll down. Gimme some sugar, honey.”

Oh, what the hell. I grip his neck and kiss him again. No music swells, but I feel like we’re at the end of a movie—right before the credits roll.

“Show’s over,” Barrett announces. With me in his arms, he leaves the conference room—it’s a grand exit.

“What did we do?” I ask as he carries me past the darkened cubicles and down the hall to Marge’s former office.

“We made the news.” He sits on the edge of the desk with me in his lap.

“Are you going to put me down?”

“Not yet.” He nuzzles my nose. “I love you like mad, Kitty Cat. Even if it takes a lifetime, I won’t stop until I win you back.”

“I don’t know about this groveling version of you.” I stroke the soft hair at the back of his head, watching as his expression grows the slightest bit worried. “I like cocky, confident, too-big-for-his-britches Fox. The one who knows that when a woman allows him to kiss her on live social media and possessively carry her out of a room, that she’s obviously still in love with him.”

His mouth softens as he searches my face. “She is?”

I whistle while pointing down at the ground but this time make an exploding sound. “I hit hard, Fox. But I stood back up. And when I did, I was more in love with you than before.”

“Ah, Kitty Cat.” He gives me a quick kiss. “Say it. Please.”

“What about ‘More Than Words’? Isn’t that our new motto?”

“You can show me later. Hell, you can show me in two seconds. This desk is sturdy.” He shifts his hips, wiggling the squeaky surface. “Sort of. I’m a dying man begging for a stay of execution. Please, honey. Say it once.”

“Just once?”

“Just once today.”

I put the tip of my nose on his, close my eyes, and hug his neck with my arms. “I love you, Barrett Fox.”

“Those are the words.”

I kiss him, teasing my tongue along the seam of his lips. His hands roam over my body and mine return the favor.

“I missed this,” I say as he unbuttons my shirt.

“There’s nothing like it.”

“There’s no one like you.”

“There’s no one like us,” he corrects, palming the back of my head.

“About this desk…” I say when he sets me on my feet. “Think it’ll hold us?”

“I don’t care.”

I grin. He grins.

And then we start shucking clothes.