Chapter 1

My boyfriend is Grayson Hale, one of the biggest quarterbacks in the NFL.

He can read a defense in seconds.

Me?

Apparently, I need a translator.

Her name is Claire Whitmore.

Claire has known Gray since they were kids. She works in sports psychology and mental performance, which means everybody around him acts like she’s the expert on every feeling anyone has.

Gray included.

So when I get upset, he asks Claire what it means.

The first time he misses our anniversary dinner because film runs late, I’m pissed.

Claire takes one look at me and goes, “Relax, Gray. She’s not mad about dinner. She wants to see if you’ll pick her over football.”

I stare at her.

“Or maybe I’m mad because he forgot our anniversary.”

Claire smiles.

“Sure.”

That’s Claire.

When Gray doesn’t answer his phone until two in the morning and I stay up worried, she says I’m checking up on him.

When I stop arguing because I’m tired, she says I’m punishing him.

If I cry, I’m manipulating him.

If I’m quiet, I’m trying to make him feel guilty.

After a while, Gray stops asking me.

He asks her.

“What does she mean?”

“Why is she mad?”

“Do you think she’s serious?”

And Claire always has an answer.

So I spend three years trying to prove her wrong.

I don’t complain about road games.

I work around practices, film sessions, sponsor dinners, team events, whatever.

I even make Gray a little emotion book.

I’m a children’s book illustrator. Drawing is my job.

Red means angry.

Blue means sad.

Yellow means happy.

Gray means tired.

He actually likes it.

Then Claire sees it.

She flips through a few pages and laughs.

“Oh my God.”

I look at her. “What?”

“You made him a feelings picture book?”

Gray says, “It helps.”

“I’m sure it does.”

She hands it back to him.

“Very cute. Probably not something a grown man should need, though.”

Gray puts it away.

I never see it again.

Tonight is his twenty-ninth birthday.

Claire books a private room at his favorite restaurant. His teammates are here, his agent is here, and a bunch of guys from college are already drinking.

I’m standing outside the door with a ring in my coat pocket.

Yeah.

A ring.

I’ve had it for two months.

Simple platinum band. Nothing flashy.

I’m going to ask him to marry me.

Then I hear Claire laugh.

“One last test.”

I stop.

Someone says, “You’re still doing this?”

“He needs to know.”

“Know what?”

“If Lena sees the picture and still stays, then we know she really loves him.”

My hand tightens around the ring box.

Another guy says, “What picture?”

Claire sounds amused.

“The one of me and Gray in bed.”

Someone mutters, “Jesus, Claire.”

“What?” she says. “I’m helping.”

A few people laugh.

Then she adds, “Nobody is this easy for three years for free.”

One of Gray’s college friends goes, “Maybe she really loves children’s books.”

Claire laughs.

“Please. She dates an NFL quarterback and draws rabbits for a living. Let’s not act confused.”

More laughter.

Then someone says, “So you think she wants the money?”

Claire says, “I think she wants to be Mrs. Hale.”

I wait for Gray to shut it down.

He doesn’t.

Instead he asks, “You really think that’s what this is?”

Claire answers right away.

“Gray, come on. She lives in your place, you cover basically everything, and she gets to play artist all day. What do you think?”

My stomach drops.

Then Gray asks, “So what do I do?”

I push the door open.

Everybody shuts up.

Claire is standing beside him with her phone in her hand.

On the screen is a picture of her and Gray in bed.

Gray looks at me.

Then at the hand I still have in my coat pocket.

“So that’s it?” he asks. “You did all this because you wanted to be Mrs. Hale?”

I just stare at him.

I came here to ask this man to marry me.

And he’s still asking Claire what I mean.

Something in me just gives up.

I take my hand out of my pocket.

“No.”

Then I turn around and leave.