The Captain's Friends-and-Family Seat Was Never Mine

I sat on the living room carpet, flipping through the photo album I'd made just for Keane.

Every photo was one I'd shot from the farthest corners of the arena, my telephoto lens following Keane wherever he went.

The refrigerator door opened, then shut.

Keane walked over with a protein bar between his teeth, brow furrowed. "How are we out of water?"

"I didn't buy any."

I closed the album, my fingertips resting on the cover.

He glanced at it without much interest. "You're going through these again? Every game has dozens of photographers. There are thousands of high-res shots online. I really don't understand why you go to all this trouble."

I said nothing and watched him pull out his phone to order water.

Just as he turned to head back to the bedroom, I spoke. "Who was the woman sitting in your team's friends-and-family section today?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

"Mia. A fan. She wandered into a practice session, and I accidentally injured her ankle during a drill. The ticket was compensation."

"A fan who gets to attend practice and sit in the friends-and-family section?"

"She broke her ankle. Getting around isn't easy for her, and the front row's more accessible."

"And carrying her out after the game? Was that compensation too?"

His face darkened and his tone dropped. "Maeve, what are you getting at?"

"Nothing. Just asking."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The championship is three days away. I've got game film to review, rehab sessions, and strategy meetings. I don't have the time or energy to deal with your jealousy."

The words had barely left his mouth when his phone lit up.

A message from a bunny avatar appeared on the screen. "I just checked the weather at the finals venue. The temperature drops considerably at night, so don't forget to pack a jacket."

The corner of Keane's mouth lifted before he could stop it. His fingers moved quickly over the screen.

"Mia?" I asked.

"Yeah. She's a fan of the whole team. She looks out for everyone, so don't read too much into it."

My eyes fell on the plush bunny charm hanging from his phone. It looked strangely out of place against his cold, hard-edged image.

"She gave you that?"

"Everyone on the team got one."

"The whole team has the same bunny?"

He paused. For once, he had no answer.

"I see. So it's just you and her with matching ones." I smiled faintly. "Do you remember what next Friday is?"

He answered without even thinking. "Is it some anniversary? I have an interview and a magazine shoot after the finals, so I probably won't have time. I'll make it up to you another day."

A dull ache bloomed in my chest, like a puck slamming into my ribs.

Next Friday was my six-month follow-up after surgery to remove a breast fibroadenoma.

When I had the operation, Keane had been overseas for an exhibition game and couldn't make it back. By the time he returned, I was lying in a hospital bed with tubes running from beneath the blanket and an oxygen mask covering my face. He had held me and apologized again and again. He promised he would be there for my follow-up.

But he had forgotten.

"Maeve, did you book your flight for the finals?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Something came up. I can't go."

In all five years we had been together, it was the first time I would miss one of his games.

He froze for a moment. Then he let out a cold laugh. "Fine. Don't come. If this is your way of throwing a tantrum, you're wasting your time."

He slammed the bedroom door. The living room fell into an eerie silence.

My phone rang. It was my boss, Ivy Prescott.

"Maeve, are you sure you want to accept the transfer to the Paris office?"

"I'm sure."

"You'll do great there. Landscape photography was always where your real talent lay. You'd already won several awards before you gave it all up for Keane and spent five years shooting portraits. I was honestly worried you would turn the offer down. I'm glad you didn't. But… "

Ivy hesitated. "This move could be permanent. You may never come back. Have you told Keane?"

I looked down at the album lying on the carpet. "No. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

There was a long silence on the other end before Ivy let out a quiet sigh. "Then I wish you all the best."

"I'll be fine."

After we hung up, I opened the airline app.

Eight days from now. A one-way ticket to Paris. Confirmed.