Internal Fixation - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,21

any thought to dating again someday? Is that something you’d consider.”

I expected Noah to divert the question or to answer it with a quick and curt no. But instead, he kept his eyes steady on the interviewer and responded without hesitation.

“This is a topic Angela and I discussed during her illness. I didn’t want to think about it, to be honest. What man wants to talk about finding a new love while his wife is fighting for her life? Not me. But Ang was persistent, as anyone who knew her can tell you.” He chuckled, and then sobered almost right away. “She told me that I had loved her so well, there was no doubt in her mind that I could love again. She said it wouldn’t be the same, because I’m not the same person I was when I met Angela. We grew together, as a couple, and I thought we’d have forever to keep on doing that. But we didn’t get that chance. It doesn’t mean that I won’t look for it with someone else.”

I realized my hands were shaking slightly in my lap as I watched, and I clenched them together. Noah had never said anything like this to me. I’d never actually asked him about his thoughts on finding love again, but I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned it. Not that I doubted his sincerity; it sounded like Angela. She wouldn’t have been able to stand the idea that her beloved Noah would go through the rest of his life alone.

The interviewer spoke again, her head tilted and a small smile playing around her perfectly painted lips. “Oh? Well, is there anyone special in your life at this point? Any news you’d care to share with the fans who have been pouring out their love to you?”

Noah winked at her. “I have lots of special people in my life. I’m very blessed. I have a wonderful family and an incredibly supportive group of friends. And I have fans who make me feel like family. For now . . . how could I ask for anything more?”

It was the perfect place to end an interview like this, and although the reporter might have been grinding her teeth that she’d been stymied from asking more follow-up questions, she had been smart enough to simply lean forward, lay her hand on Noah’s knee and say, “Thank you, Noah, for sharing your heart and your pain with us.” Then she’d swiveled her head to the camera. “For more information on the Angela Rone-Spencer Memorial Foundation, please check out our website at . . .”

I’d breathed a sigh of relief, not only that Noah had managed to dodge that last question but that the interview overall was tasteful and positive. I was sure it would only bring him good press, and I hoped that it helped with the launch of the foundation.

Having hidden out in the TV room for the first forty-five minutes that I’d been in the box, I thought I’d probably better wander out and be sociable. The assistant who’d been so helpful hadn’t been wrong; the cocktail area was packed, and the seating section down below was also nearly full. There were a few men here and there, most of them, I imagined, fathers or brothers of players, but the room was mostly occupied by women and children.

I had a sudden flashback of memory of Angela describing to me what it felt like to go to a gameday at the stadium. As I snuck peeks at the women who were clearly wives or girlfriends, I noticed that most of them wore the same uniform Ang had told me about: jeans, their man’s jersey, and heels. All of them had their hair blown out to perfection, and the majority boasted sparkly earrings, rings, necklaces and bracelets. I was pretty sure none of their bling was costume, either.

I’d known how almost everyone would be dressed, and I’d intentionally gone another way, just to differentiate myself, wearing wide-legged silk pants, a sleeveless blouse with a tie at the neck and a long coordinating sweater with a series of relaxed ruffles. The heels I’d chosen to were pretty and perfect for the outfit—and not so high that they hurt either my feet or my back. My auburn hair was pulled up in a twist. I knew I looked good. Jenny had said as much, too. Even so, I felt like the proverbial new kid at school.

I wasn’t a shy woman, and when