But being friends without benefits feels like the first responsible decision I’ve made about this woman in weeks.

It’s what I need to do.

“I leave on Monday for spring training. I’m going early this year to get in some extra workouts when pitchers and catchers report. Then I’m gone for a little over a month anyway.” I can’t quite fathom how I’m willingly ending something that has barely begun. But I have to do this. I have to know I’m not nuclear any longer.

I force myself to think with my head rather than the pathetic organ in my chest that wants to smother her with kisses, hide out with her in bed the rest of the day, and never let her go.

Brain, you’re at bat.

Just take a fucking swing.

“And while I’m in training, since we can’t be together,” I continue, doing my damnedest to be rational, “maybe we use the time to be apart. To take it slow and measured. To be patient.” I swallow roughly. “We can go to the golf event tomorrow as friends,” I offer, like I’m dying to go platonic with her.

Being just friends only sounds like a forking awful consolation prize, but it’s the opposite of my past mistakes, and that’s what I need to do.

“Sure,” Nadia says, a little uncertain. But she takes a shuddery breath and seems more resolved. “It’s what we were supposed to do anyway. Besides, I need to focus on finding a new GM, and all my plans for the team. There’s no lack of work for me to do,” she says, crisp and professional.

In a similar tone, I say, “Then we’ll see how things are after spring training. After we’ve done the friendship thing for real.” I sound much more decisive than I feel. “We’ll wait for our pitch. That’ll be our new rule. Rule number six.”

She gives me a faint smile, drains her coffee, then nods like it’s all settled. “Friends.”

“For now,” I agree. We’re not calling it relationship-quits forever. We’re just sensibly slowing down.

So why do I feel like we just broke up?

28

Nadia

My niece, Audrey, brandishes a paperback in each hand, waggling one then the other.

“Girl spy or girl warrior?” she asks, debating her purchase as we peruse the shelves at An Open Book.

I screw up my lips, tapping my finger on my chin, studying each cover. “That’s a good question. But with books, you truly can have it all. I vote for both,” I declare.

She nods resolutely, her black ponytail bouncing. “You’re right. I’ll ask my dad to buy me both.”

This is one of my favorite bookstores in the city, perched at the edge of the Marina, a soaring view of the Golden Gate Bridge beyond. I scan the titles and tip a copy of a sports biography into my hand. “While you’re at it, maybe add this one. Girl athletes are cool.”

She takes it with eager hands, reads the back jacket, then glances up at me with inquisitive eyes. “Will you ever have a girl athlete on your team?”

“There have been some female kickers. You never know. We might have one in the NFL someday. But you want to hear something cool?”

“I do.”

I lower my voice to a whisper. “I think I might hire a female general manager.”

“You’re so cool, Aunt Nadia.” She spins on her heel and rushes off to find her father in the travel section, thrusting the books at him.

An elbow nudges my side. “Did I just hear you say you’re hiring a female GM?”

I turn to my sister, Brooke, who’s joined me in the kids’ section, some new thrillers tucked under her arm. “It’s looking that way. She’s the leading candidate.”

“Dad worked hard to create equal opportunities and build a diverse workforce. He’d be proud of you for carrying that on.”

“Thanks,” I say, a lump sticking in my throat. Emotions are riding me like I’m a surfboard today.

Breaking up with a guy you weren’t technically dating is the worst.

Especially when you’re falling hard for him.

Brooke studies my face. “You don’t seem as happy about that as I’d expect. What’s going on?”

That’s my sister, seeing right through me.

“Nothing is going on,” I say with fake cheer.

Cheer she bludgeons with one sharp snort. “Right. I don’t buy that. What’s the story with the man?”

I sigh heavily, slumping against the Jenny Hans. “I wish there were a story.” My voice is tight, my chest heavy. But I’m not one to dwell, to go all “woe is me” over a man. Then again, I’ve never experienced a man like Crosby.

Brooke sets her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “What happened?”

I’m not sure I want to open the wound again. This morning’s adulting session at the café felt necessary, but in the way a dental exam is. You need it, even if it hurts like hell when the hygienist gets that tooth scalpel thingie out and scrapes off any plaque, all while chatting cheerily about her day. “Nothing happened,” I say, though, really, a tooth scalpel thingie isn’t nothing.

She grabs my arm. “Oh no, you don’t.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to dismiss all these feelings I didn’t want to face when I returned to town. I simply wanted to be Take Charge Nadia. Boss Nadia. Nadia with her Leatherman that can open any door. My father’s daughter. I didn’t want to be Nadia with a soft, squishy heart that could be stepped on, smooshed, and stomped into a pulpy mess.

“Is this about Crosby?” Brooke asks, a little too insightful. I shake my head, and she rolls her eyes. “You can’t fool me, buttercup. You two are in love. What’s going on?”

Those words are a burst of sunlight in my chest. In love. She’s not wrong. But the timing is. It’s utterly and completely wrong.

“Timing is a tooth scalpel,” I say.

She arches a what the hell brow.

“It can hurt like a son of a banshee, but sometimes the timing doesn’t work out.”

“That’s just an excuse, Nadia.”

My shoulders sag, and a kernel of sadness expands in my chest, the roots extending throughout my body.

Am I upset with Crosby?

Maybe I am.

But maybe I shouldn’t be.

He might have dealt the fatal blow to our benefits, but I agreed with him from the beginning to the middle to the end.

His choice was smart.

Logical.

Right.

I would have made the same one.

I think.

“Look, I tried the whole dating thing in Vegas.” I square my shoulders, digging into my metaphorical purse for my ovaries of steel. “It didn’t pan out. But that’s okay. The universe clearly wants me to be single and to focus on the team right now.”

Brooke clears her throat, her eyes drifting pointedly to the front of the store. David is laughing with Audrey as they reach the counter and she plops down the three titles. He ruffles her black hair. She tosses her head back and laughs.

“I’m in love, and I can focus on work,” Brooke points out.

My heart lurches at her words then squeezes as David tosses Brooke an I love you grin.