“Yeah, I get that. Life can get pretty tricky.” Luckily for me, none of the frustration I feel comes out when I speak. Unluckily, however, the quivering that tends to happen every time my dad crosses my mind is completely evident, and apparently is the only thing that can pull Quinton’s attention from the iPad.

Dammit.

“Are you alright?” He pushes the tablet across the table as if nothing else matters besides me. And man, what a total freaking mind fuck that is. Because as much as I’ve been telling myself that I hate his guts, the second he turns his attention to me and those black eyes soften, it’s like all of my resolve slips away.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I force a smile on my face and focus on the task at hand, reminding myself of his harsh words from only moments ago. “The fact that you already have the tax part done is huge. Now, it’s all about the details, and I’m a total details girl, so this is the part I love.”

“What’s next?” I can tell he wanted to know what caused my near meltdown, but thankfully he moves on. Or, more accurately, he doesn’t actually care. Either way, it’s a win for me.

“Well, I know you’re busy now that the season has started, but I’ll need your input and help for a lot of this. It’s your foundation after all.” I close my email and open up the calendar app. “If you could tell me days and times that work for you, I’m more than happy to work my schedule around yours. If you are really serious about getting this done, I think we can have a launch event in a month. And I know you aren’t going to love this part, but we’re going to have to set up a few interviews and press conferences for you. If we want this to work, it’s up to you to take control of the narrative. After we flesh out what your foundation is really addressing, I’ll compile some statements and key talking points for you to focus on. This means that when you aren’t doing football, you’ll be doing this. It will be a commitment. Are you ready for this?”

And as much as I want this to work, the little voice in the back of my mind shouts that he’s worth more to the team than I am, if things go south.

“I know you don’t know me. I get that. And I know that people think because I play football and came from a family where my dad also played, that I’m some entitled fuckboy who has been handed everything in life.”

Well fuck me! Not literally. Maybe literally? No. Definitely not.

Is he a mind reader?