Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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"You okay?" Greyson asks. He places his hand on my thigh and the warmth of it instantly calms me down. "You're spinning your ring around your finger."
"I'm a little nervous. I've never walked a red carpet before. What if they ask me questions? What'll I say?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll be the one they're pestering seeing as this is my first appearance since I retired, but if they start on you, I'll take care of it."
His smiles and squeezes my leg reassuringly, but between his dark eyebrows, there's a wrinkle of concern.
"People always were more interested in talking to you."
He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss against the inside of my wrist. "Only because I'm standing next to you."
Noise pops our quiet, private little bubble inside the limo and surrounds us as Greyson throws the door open. Photographers are shouting commands and snapping photos as ESPY attendees smile and pose. Reporters are conducting interviews. Greyson gets the all-clear, and when he looks at me over his shoulder, he laces his fingers through mine, smiling in reassurance as he guides us forward, forcing me to face a fear I never knew I had – walking a red carpet.
As expected, the carpet is packed with athletes, musicians, actors, and Olympians. I've been around well-known models when I've assisted Nico on a fashion show. I've sat at a table with several world leaders and politicians. I even ran into Adam Sandler in a bagel shop in Tribeca once. I've never been starstruck before – until now that is.
An imposing, yet friendly looking guy and a gorgeous blonde come up to us, the guy extending his hand toward Greyson in greeting.
"Greyson McKinnie."
"Nick!" They shake hands and do one of those bro hugs where they bump chests and slap each other on the back. "It's good to see you."
"Good to see you too." He wraps his arm around the blonde next to him and pulls her close. "You remember my wife, Justine?"
"I do. It's nice to see you again," Greyson tells her. He lifts our joined hands to his chest and looks down at me, smiling affectionately. "This is Delaney. My...uh, my Delaney. And Del, this is Nick and Justine Mount. Nick plays for the Anaheim Saints."
I smile and wave. "It's nice to meet you both."
Thanks to my mother being an avid baseball fan, I know exactly who they are. She'd lose it if she were here right now.
"You look good, McKinnie."
"Thanks, Nick. Not good enough to ever play ball again, but I'm alright. Much better than before."
"That's what I like to hear." He smiles and smacks Greyson lightly on the shoulder. "I know it's not the same, but if you ever want to get back into it, let me know. The Saints could use you as a coach."
