if we need to keep things on the DL for a little bit so people don’t jump to the wrong conclusions, then that’s what we’ll do.” I managed a crooked smile, despite my dismay at the prospect of not hanging out with Noah on a regular basis. “We can always video chat.”
“That’s not what I was trying to say.” He sounded almost angry as he set his empty bottle on the coffee table and ran one hand over his hair. “I don’t want that. Christ, Emma, you’ve been the best friend I’ve had in the past year. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without you in my life. I don’t want that to change.” He slumped against the cushioned back of the sofa. “My agent called yesterday. She said that SportsDay wants to do a piece on me, on what it’s like to find a way to go on in the wake of tragedy. It’ll be part of their pre-game coverage when we’re on Monday Night Football in two weeks.”
I was silent for a few minutes. Last year, when Noah had started helping me with the plans and building of the cabin, Tampa had been in the process of finishing a crappy season. They’d lost their QB to a torn meniscus in the fourth game of the year, and everything seemed to go downhill for them after that. I knew—because we’d discussed it—that Noah worried that his focus on Angela’s recovery had somehow made him a lesser player. No one else thought the same way; fans and coaches alike often marveled at the offensive tackle’s ability to compartmentalize his work and his private life. But that didn’t stop Noah from brooding.
This year, though, everything had been different. A new quarterback and a new coach had unified the team, energizing the players and the fan base. Noah had thrown himself into his training, conditioning and practice, and it showed every week on the field. Consequently, this year Tampa was leading the division and seemed destined to go to the playoffs—and maybe even the big game itself.
In two weeks, Tampa was playing at home for Monday Night Football. This was a big deal. Noah had asked me if I wanted to come to the game, something he’d never invited me to do before. We had made tentative plans for me to drive over with Jenny and eat dinner at Nico’s restaurant before the game. I’d been so wrapped up in getting this move accomplished that I’d actually forgotten how fast the game was approaching. But two weeks wasn’t that long away now. It felt a lot more real and immediate than it had a month ago.
“What do you think about the SportsDay piece?” I couldn’t tell if Noah was excited about it or dreading the idea.
“I don’t want to do it.” His answer was immediate and firm. “But on the other hand, Roxy says I should. She says it’ll give me a chance to show fans that I’m okay, that they don’t have to feel sorry for me anymore. I can talk about Angela and how amazing she was, and how she’d want me to go on living, even without her. I can even introduce the idea of the foundation.”
I nodded. Noah had been talking about establishing a charity in his late wife’s name for a long time now. He hadn’t immediately hit on the perfect idea for how to best proceed. We’d talked about doing some fundraising for the St. Agnes wing in memory of Angela, and that was still in the works. But he wanted the foundation he named for her to be associated with something positive, something that Angela herself would like to see. Just a few weeks ago, he’d called me, excited to share that he’d finally found the perfect fit.
The Angela Spencer Memorial Foundation would raise money to benefit young women who faced challenges in realizing their dreams, with a particular emphasis on those who wanted to pursue careers in the arts or in journalism. Since Angela had been a blogger and an influencer on social media channels, which focused on home décor, fashion and makeup, this was a wonderful way to combine all of those areas. Noah had already reached out to a few local schools to discuss ways the foundation could work for their students.
“It sounds like a good thing, then.” I smiled, hoping I looked encouraging. “And you’ll be great. It’ll be excellent PR for the team, too.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t really