“Who’s the man?” Ford holds his arms out wide. His smile extends to Pluto and back.

“You’re the man?” I ask playfully, gallons of hope rising inside me. If he’s here, that means one thing. One awesome, amazing thing.

He claps me on both shoulders. “You. Are. The. Fucking. Man.”

Anticipation bursts in my chest. “And why am I the man?”

Ford stops and gives Violet a cheek kiss. “Hello, beautiful. Wherever are my manners? Good to see you.”

“Hi, Ford. Why is Cooper the man? Are you going to tell him?” she asks, practically bouncing on those skyscraper heels.

My agent raises his right arm toward the ceiling, like a warrior issuing a battle cry. “Four years. Four beautiful, amazing, incredible, make-it-rain years.”

My jaw comes unhinged. It falls to the motherfucking floor when he says the dollar amount. It’s mind-boggling. It’s staggering. I slide my hand through my hair. “Holy shit.”

“Holy fucking multimillion-dollar-face-of-the-team-starting-quarterback-for-the-next-four-years shit.”

Ford punches the air several times, and Violet throws her arms around me. “I am so proud of you. This is amazing. This is incredible. You deserve everything,” she says, her voice bubbling over with excitement. She sounds like champagne. Like diamonds. Like all the stars in the sky.

I’m floating. I’m in shock. “Thank you,” I say, surprised I can even get those words out because I’m too stunned. Too overwhelmed. Ford already banked me life-changing money when he negotiated my rookie contract. This is many-lives-changing money.

I walk to the couch and sink down because I’m not sure I can stand anymore as I process this news.

“Don’t sit. We need to go out and celebrate. We have points to review. We have things to discuss. Get up, brother,” Ford says.

Violet sets a hand on his arm. “I think he needs a little time to process this.”

Ford turns to Violet, pressing his hands together. “Speaking of time, how can I thank you? You were amazing. You were incredible. Thank you for everything you did. And guess what?”

“What?”

Ford waves his arms as if he’s flying. “You’re free now. You don’t have to pretend to like this guy anymore.”

She narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shoots her a look. “He told me you were never into him in the first place, and that’s why it’s all the more amazing that you pulled this off. You were so believable. Kind of ironic, though, that in the end, our man went all Boy Scout and told the truth that you guys were never a real thing.”

Violet snaps her gaze to me, her voice wary. “Cooper, what is he talking about?”

My brain is sluggish, still processing the shock and thrill of this news. “I told the coach the truth before the game.”

“What did you tell him?” she asks tentatively.

“That it was all smoke and mirrors,” Ford says, waving his hands like a magician.

“Smoke and mirrors?”

“Fake. False. Made-up. Whatever you want to call it,” Ford adds, like he thinks Violet doesn’t understand words.

“I know what smoke and mirrors means,” she says to Ford, then turns to me. “I just don’t understand why you’d say that.”

“I didn’t want the coach to think I was a liar,” I say, the words coming out slow since my head is a swirl of numbers and deals and life-changing news. But even in this daze, I try to explain what went down as best I can. “I didn’t want to earn the job under false pretenses. I wanted him to know the whole truth.”

“What is the whole truth?”

I part my lips to speak—to tell her nothing is false with her—when an alarm sounds from inside her purse. She grabs her phone and mutes the noise. Her shoulders tense, and she mutters something about her appointment as she heads for the door.

“Vi,” I say, standing and walking to her. “But I also realized—”

She turns around. Her eyes brim with sadness, but her voice is resolute. “I can’t be late, Cooper. This is a new client, and I can’t take a chance.”

I nod. Of all people, I understand how sometimes—even most of the time—business has to come first. “We’ll talk later?”

She offers a smile, but it feels forced. Or maybe confused is the better term. Because fuck, I am, too. This offer should be the greatest moment on the business side of my career. The chance to step into my own. To have security and a bright, bold future. But as I look at Violet, suddenly the contract isn’t the most important thing. I want the girl, too. I want a future with her. She’s the thing I can’t live without.

I grab her hand. “I’ll call you later. I promise.”

She swallows and nods tightly. But she says nothing, almost as if she doesn’t want to chance speaking. She turns on her heel, walks down my steps, and leaves. I don’t look away, not yet. Finally, when she’s in her car, I turn around to see the smiling face of my agent. I want to ask him how I can negotiate my way back into her heart.

But he’s not the guy who knows those answers.

Instead, we spend the next few hours reviewing the deal over a fantastic steak dinner, and he offers to take me to the team hotel, but I have sixty minutes before I’m due there, so I ask him to drop me off at Trent’s bar instead.

Trent nods at me from his spot behind the bar. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the king of San Francisco.”

I wave him off, like the adulation is all too much. “Please. I insist on a parade now everyplace I go.”

He tosses a dish towel in my direction. It lands on the wooden counter. “You came to the wrong place. In fact, you might have to pay for drinks now.”

I feign a look of shock. “Money for food and drinks? Never heard of such a thing. By the way, what are you doing behind the bar?”

“I like to help out now and then. What the hell are you doing here?” He looks at an imaginary watch. “Don’t you have to go to your nun cloisters and put on blinders like a horse before the Kentucky Derby, so no one can see you?”

“Something like that. I have thirty minutes before I have to be at the hotel. If I’m not there, it’ll be lights out,” I say, slicing a finger across my neck.

“Really?”

“No. But yes, I need to follow the rules.” I slap my palms on the counter as if it’s a drum. “But also, the team offered,” I say, then tell him the amount, and he blinks about five million times.

“That’s insane.”

“I know. It’s ridiculous. It hardly feels real.”

He grabs a glass and pours from the tap. “So you came here for a celebratory drink before your last game of the season?”

I shake my head and draw a deep breath. “I don’t drink before games. I came here for something else.”

He sets the glass down. “My potato skins recipe is under lock and key.”

“Dude, you told me years ago the secret was how long you bake the cheese.”

“Dammit.”

I glance behind me. His bar is full of too many ears. “Can we go to a table in the corner?”

“Ooh baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

I roll my eyes. Trent waves over another bartender to cover for him, and we head to a quiet table. Funny, the last time I was here he told me the notion of me being with his sister was absurd on account of my supposedly straying eyes.

Looking back on this last season, I can say with certainty I’m not a playboy at all. I’ve been with one person, and she’s the only person I want to be with ever again. I stroke my chin, like I need to steel myself for a tough conversation. But honestly, there’s nothing hard about what I have to tell him. When you speak from the heart, you don’t need a dose of courage to get the words out. You just need to open your mouth.

“A funny thing happened while I was pretending to be involved with Violet.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s not pretend.”

“It’s not?” he asks hesitantly.

I lean back in the chair, hold my arms out wide. “I’m in love with her.”

He knits his brow and rubs his ear like he has water in it. “What did you just say?”

“I’m crazy fucking in love with her. Like, to-the-moon-and-back shit. Like rest of my life, no one else, she’s the one. The sun and all the stars in the sky.”

“Wow. Did you just have a brain transplant with a poet or something? Because this is not you.”

I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “I know. But now it is me. Because that’s what happened. And the truth is, I think I’ve been falling in love with her for a long time, and this pretend deal brought it all to the surface.”

He blows out a long stream of air. “Does she know?”

That’s the biggest issue. “She knows I like her. I’m not sure she knows I’m in love with her.”

He frowns as if he’s still trying to make sense of this. “Are you looking for my blessing, or something?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Actually, I’m not. And I hope you can respect that. I love you, man, and I don’t want to lose your friendship, but I can’t take a chance on her slipping through my fingers. So, I hope you approve, and I’m telling you first, but I want to let her know, and I’m planning on making it crystal clear.”

He takes a deep breath. “What’s your plan?”

“That’s where I need you most. There are a few details I need you to oversee. Maybe Holly, too.” I quickly outline what I have in mind. “I want her to know how much she means to me. Will you help me?”

He stares at me with intense brown eyes, as if he’s hunting for the truth in my face. “You’ll treat her right?”

I nod. “Like a queen.”

“You’ll be good to her?”

“Every day.”

“You love her?”

“More than I love football.”

He shakes his head, amused. “I never thought the day would come.”

But that day is here. “I was bracing for you to give me a hard time,” I say with a relieved sigh. “You were pretty pissed after the auction.”

He holds up a finger. “Correction. I was pissed when I thought you hadn’t told me what was going on. Now you’re telling me, and I appreciate it.”

“So you don’t think I’m just your dickhead, playboy, asshole friend who doesn’t deserve your sister?”

He laughs as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. “You’ll always be a dickhead and an asshole, but you’re my friend, and you’re a good guy. If you’re telling me that the sun rises and sets with my sister, then you damn well better go get your woman.” He shoos me off. “Get out of here and take care of that phone call.”

When I arrive at the hotel, I call Violet and invite her to the game tomorrow. “Please tell me you can make it.”

Her voice is cool, like she’s holding back emotion. “You want me there? As your fake girlfriend? I don’t understand why when Ford made it clear we were over.”

“Ford handles my business. He doesn’t handle my heart. There are things he doesn’t know.”

“And you don’t want to tell me those things now?”

I move the phone away from my ear and stare at the picture of her on the screen. “No. I want to see your face. I want to see you in person. I want to tell you in person. The whole truth. Like I told the coach.”

She sighs heavily.

I can’t let her get away. “I don’t want you there as my fake girlfriend. I want you there as you. As my Violet. Okay?”

She takes a beat.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Please come.”

“I’ll be there.”

When she hangs up, I text Jones and tell him to gather the guys. I grab something for Rick that I picked up at the store on the way over, a little gift for Jones, then an item I snagged from the front desk. I drop them in a plastic bag from the hotel. Ten minutes later, I meet them in Jones’s room.

They’re assembled, parked in chairs around the table.

“To what do we owe the honor of this impromptu team meeting?” Jones asks.

I place my palms together. “Gentlemen, we are going to cut Harlan’s hair tonight.”

Harlan sits up straight, his hand shooting to his long hair. “Blasphemy. What are you talking about?”

“Dude, we’re winning,” Rick adds.

I reach into the bag and toss him a pack of Big Red. “Time for cinnamon gum tomorrow.”

Jones smirks. “Let me guess. You have new socks for me next.”

“You know it,” I say, dipping my hand into the bag and tossing him a pair of my own freshly cleaned socks.

“What in the ever-loving hell?” Harlan asks in his drawl.

Jones stands up and taps Harlan’s skull. “You can’t figure this out?”

Awareness dawns on him. “Ohhhhh.” Harlan looks at me. “You fucking horndog.”

I shrug and hold my hands out wide. Had I broken the pact before we clinched, I might have felt worse. But I don’t, for many reasons. “Guys, we don’t win because of rituals. We win because we play like a team. You guys have had my back all season, and I’ve had yours. But we don’t win because of smelly socks, or pink bubblegum, or uncut hair.”

“Or you not getting your dick wet,” Jones mutters.

I smirk. “Exactly. We win because of how we play, and how we play together. As you can surmise, I broke my superstition. So, the way I see it, you three can step out on the field tomorrow doing what you’ve always done this season. Or you can have my back, and start a new ritual with me. Like a team.”

Jones pumps his arms at his sides and grinds his pelvis. “Cooper can’t keep the snake in the cage, boys. And if the snake is out, the socks are clean, the King of the Jungle’s hair gets cut, and the gum is a new flavor.”

We put our fists together and knock as a foursome.

Harlan sighs. “Since Violet’s not here, which one of you assholes is going to cut my hair?”

The three of us shake our heads.

“Seriously? You’re all too chicken to cut hair?”

“If you have clippers, I’ll give you a buzz cut,” Rick says, rubbing his hand over his own short hair. “But fair warning. I’d probably slip and shave your eyebrows too.”

Harlan sighs. “Thanks, but no thanks, Barber Rick.”

“Wait,” Jones says, grabbing his phone. “I have an idea. I saw Jillian here earlier.”

We all make obscene gestures in his direction. He doesn’t care, though, since he’s convincing the team publicist to play stylist for the night. Moments later, she arrives with a cheery smile on her face.

“Edward Scissorhands at your service,” she says as she marches into the room.

She wets Harlan’s hair and snips off a few inches as I tell them the rest of the plan for tomorrow. Jillian coos and says she can’t wait.

I can’t, either.