Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love)

“You need more butter, Tuck. Southern women use a lot of butter, dear. It’s why those city girls are so skinny. They don’t get enough fat in their diet,” Lois explains as he stirs potatoes in a big bowl. He’s wearing one of Nova’s aprons, just like I am. His has pumpkins on it; mine has squirrels eating acorns.

Lois then goes into a spiel about how he needs to work on his running game.

It’s Thanksgiving at Nova’s. I’ve already called my mom and sisters and checked in with them. Hopefully, I’ll see them after we’ve finished the playoff games for state.

Nova stops chopping celery to peer inside Tuck’s bowl. She sticks her finger inside, then puts it in her mouth. She holds back a gag. “Did you put milk in it? No wonder it’s hard to stir!”

Tuck flashes a grin, then jogs to the fridge and grabs the milk. “Oops. Guess I should read this recipe better.”

Nova puts her hands on her hips. “Don’t be a slacker, Tuck.”

“Where’s that jelly recipe?” Lois asks as she flips the pages of the sacred cookbook.

Nova scoffs and curls her lips. “I took it out and locked it up, Lois. I’ll be making Mama’s jelly this year for the fair.”

Lois hisses. “You wouldn’t.”

Nova grins. “I might.”

Sabine comes in from the den, a serious expression on her face as she contemplates Tuck’s form in the art of mashing potatoes. She walks around him carefully. “I thought NFL players were strong. The potatoes are chunky. I like my potatoes smooth.” She looks at Nova. “What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he using the mixer?”

“There’s a mixer?” Tuck stops and exclaims, panting slightly. He wipes his face, and a piece of potato plops on the floor. “Don’t tell me I’ve done all this for nothing!”

Lois elbows him. “The mixer is broken.”

Nova stifles a laugh. “Right.”

Bonnie giggles as she makes a chocolate pie.

Tuck cocks a hip. “Oh, I get it—be mean to the new guy. Y’all are pulling one over on me, and here I was thinking Texas women were sweet. Didn’t I help Ronan deep-fry the turkey? Didn’t I stay up all night worried about what you guys would think of me? Okay, that really didn’t happen, but for real . . . where’s this mixer at?”

“I think they just wanted to see how you moved, Tuck.” Toby chuckles from the table, where he’s been put in charge of making squash casserole. He’s taking it seriously, carefully slicing the squash, kind of like me as I break apart corn bread in a pan for the dressing.

Nova wraps a boa around Tuck’s neck, as an apology, maybe, then hands him a mixer she grabbed from the pantry. “Have you ever handled one of these?”

“Never,” he says seriously. “But I love toys. How fast does it go, and can I have fun with it?”

She gives him her teacher look. “Start on low, and work your way up to blend. And don’t get potatoes on my walls.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says as he fluffs his boa. “Tuck’s famous mashed potatoes coming up!”

I laugh under my breath. Two peas in a pod, they are, and they haven’t shut up since he showed up last night at my house. First, he wanted a minute-by-minute recounting of the night she’d burst into my birthday party; then she wanted a detailed list of every model I’d ever dated. I’m pretty sure she took notes.

I smile at no one, realizing suddenly that my best friend and Nova are going to be tight, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

“Are they always like this?” Tuck rolls his eyes at me, indicating Nova and Lois as they swing their hips to a pop song while Sabine sings the lyrics.

I nod. “Pretty much.”

Sparky darts in and runs in and out of Tuck’s legs, meowing, then laps at the piece of potato on the floor. Tuck glances down at him and, under his breath, says to me, “That cat is freaking messed up, man. How can you walk it? It’s ridiculous looking.”

I walked Sparky and Dog at the same time this morning when we arrived at Nova’s. She was busy prepping and needed the help, and a gut instinct just told me to try and see what happened if I got them together. Sparky and Dog took one look at each other, shrugged, and trotted down the sidewalk, ready for their business.

“Sparky’s a Donskoy of Russian heritage. They’re quite expressive without hair,” I say as corn bread gets under my fingernails. “I owe Nova a new cat, actually. I’m thinking Christmas.”

Nova overhears, gives me a look, and then throws back her head and laughs.

Sonia and Skeeter arrive with a broccoli dish, making us hoot at Skeeter, who doesn’t think it’s funny; then Caleb and his grandmother bring a pecan pie.

Two hours later, a pan of yeast rolls is burned—my fault—but no one cares. Everything else is beautiful. Nova and I put the leaf in her dining room table and set it with her mom’s rose-patterned dishes. She sits at the head, with me next to her and Sabine on the other side.

I look at them both, feeling that familiar happy sensation that’s been going on since I drove back into Blue Belle.

Nova is mine, and the relief is so acute that my throat clogs. If I had chosen the Pythons, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. I lost my heart in New York, but I found it in Texas.

Visiting Whitney’s grave was a cleansing for me, a rebirth into possibilities. Life is too short to hold back, to not let love in, to not make real commitments, and sometimes you must trust that everything is going to be okay. My spark is back, my hope, and my joy. All it takes is a little faith, something I lost along the way.

This town, the people, my team—I want to give them my heart. Like Nova, I want to plant roots, grow them deep, and see what happens.

“I’m thankful that Coach stayed. He’s the best coach and man I know. I’m glad my mom is with me today,” Toby says quietly as we take turns going around the table talking about things we’re grateful for.

“For hot girls who adore me,” Tuck declares, then sobers. “Seriously, though . . .” He shoots me a look, then grins. “I’m just glad that I can say I fixed these two lovebirds up. Who’s the man? I am.”

Sabine blinks. “You are amazingly conceited.”

He tips his glass. “Thank you, my dear, and my mashed potatoes are smooth, so . . .” He lifts his brows.

She smirks. “Thanks?”

“That’s it. Just go with it.” He clinks their glasses together.

“I am,” Sabine says dryly.

I huff out a laugh because she sounded exactly like Nova.

Lois blinks away the tears in her eyes. She’s eating with us, then heading to her daughter’s house for their meal this evening. “For me, I’m just happy to have friends who love football as much as I do.”

Skeeter clears his throat and stands. He glances at me, then Sonia. A long sigh comes from him. “Well, it’s a toss-up between having Ronan back as coach and hooking up with Sonia—”

She straightens in her seat, her face flushing. “We haven’t ‘hooked up’!”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, right, I know—we’re dating; I just meant we reconnected after knowing-each-other-in-high-school kind of thing . . .”

Caleb says he’s grateful for his grandmother, and she says the same about him. Bonnie murmurs that she’s thankful for her son, and Sonia says she’s grateful for new beginnings—and we all know what she means.

Sabine clears her throat. “When my mama died, it was the worst day of my life, and the only person who could make that better is sitting next to me. My sister. She is the best person I know. That’s all.” She stares down at her plate, and I see Nova taking her hand and squeezing it under the table.

I stand. “I’ve told my team if you win the heart, you win everything, but I’m not sure I truly understood it until now.” My gaze lands on Nova. “I do now, and I’m ready for the rest.”

Lois sighs, dabbing at her eyes.

“And we’re going to win state!” I declare, and the group whoops in agreement.

Nova raises her tea glass in a toast, a mist in her eyes as she sweeps them over the table. “If you’d asked me a year ago whether I’d be living in Blue Belle and loving every minute, I would have laughed, but it’s my anchor, as you all are. Thank you for coming to my home and being part of my family.” Her sapphire eyes drape over me, lingering, a softness there. “I hope we spend many, many holidays together. And win state! Go Bobcats!”

Cheers go around the table.

I lean into her, brushing my lips over her cheek.

Turns out her words are prophetic.

For we do spend many holidays together. And we do win state, many, many times as we spend the rest of our lives together.