You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(59)

And that sucks.

His words linger throughout the first half. To the point I can barely concentrate on the game. Not that it’s a big deal—they’re winning so easily, it’s almost embarrassing for the opposing team.

Yet I can’t shake the fact that the team publicist doesn’t trust my motives for being back in Jordan’s life. Do I look that sketchy? Does he really believe I’m out to cash in on Jordan’s fame? I don’t want to deal with the fame thing at all. I told Jordan he’s a private person, but guess what? So am I. He signed up for this from the beginning. He knew what he was getting into.

Just because I care about the man doesn’t mean I can handle the celebrity that comes with him. Maybe I can’t. Maybe this will all prove to be too much.

“Hello. Please tell me you’re Amanda.”

Whirling around at the lilting female voice, I find a petite dark blonde standing in front of me, clad in a beautiful pale blue dress. The dress matches her eyes. They’re icy blue, sparkling and friendly.

I have no clue who she is.

“Yes, I’m Amanda,” I say carefully.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She rests her hand against her chest, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Cannon told me to come in search of you, and I was afraid with the mad crush of people in here, I’d never find you.”

She’s British. Her accent is sharp, her pronunciation almost exaggerated. Her posture is perfection. She has an elegant air about her, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her lips covered in a becoming shade of pink.

Oh, and she mentioned Cannon’s name. How does he know this woman?

“You’re a friend of Cannon’s?” I ask.

Her cheeks blaze a deep pink at the mere mention of his name. “We only just met yesterday, but…yes. I’d like to consider him a friend.”

“And you are?”

“Oh, how absolutely rude of me! I haven’t even introduced myself.” She smiles. Does a little curtsy. “I’m Lady Susanna Sumner.”

Lady Susanna? “Shouldn’t I be the one who curtsies to you?” I ask as I take her offered hand and shake it.

She lets go of my hand and laughs, shaking her head. “No, never. I’m not one for all that formality. I can’t help it if I was born the daughter of an earl.”

An earl? That means she’s royalty. From a noble family or whatever. “I don’t mean to be rude, but how in the world did you meet Cannon?”

“At the event yesterday. I accompanied my parents to the meet-and-greet gathering. My father is a huge fan of American football, and he wanted to meet some of the team members. I tagged along because I didn’t have anything else better to do on a Friday night.” She smiles, her cheeks still pink. “My father introduced himself to Cannon, even complimenting him on his massive arms, which was so incredibly embarrassing. I chastised Father for his ridiculous statement, and Cannon took great offense. Said he couldn’t believe his arms didn’t impress me.”

Oh Cannon. “In other words, he was flirting with you,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “Right. I told him he was so obvious. Father drifted away after a few minutes of our silly conversation and we ended up chatting for the rest of the night. He even, um, took me to dinner.”

I wonder if took me to dinner is code for something else entirely.

“Anyway.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Cannon invited me to the game, told me I should find you so we could keep each other company. I almost thought I wouldn’t make it, I was running so late, but now here I am.”

A new friend. I already adore her. She’s chatty and nervous and very unsure about this entire thing, I’m guessing. In other words, we can totally relate. “Perfect. Let’s sit together during the second half of the game.”

She wrinkles her nose, looking like a cute little bunny. Maybe it’s the pink cheeks and the dark blonde hair. Her teeth too. The front ones protrude slightly. Kind of like a…bunny. “The second half? I’m ashamed to admit, I don’t know much about American football. Or any other sport, for that matter. I just shout at the TV with the rest of my family when they’re watching a game at the appropriate moments.”

I smile and hook my arm through hers. “I’ll give you a lesson in American football. I just have one question. Should I call you Lady Susanna?”

She appears horrified by my suggestion. “Heavens no! Please just call me Susanna.”

“Perfect.” I tug her closer to me, our arms still hooked. “Let’s go sit down and watch the game.”

We settle into our seats, Susanna chattering away, her hands fluttering. I get the sense she’s kind of a Nervous Nelly. Or maybe she’s just excited, I don’t know, but I like her. She’ll be the perfection distraction for the rest of the game. At least I won’t have to worry about Harvey lurking around, watching my every move. Or worry about the fact that there’s a chance I could be…

Pregnant.

Ugh. I’m worrying over nothing. I need to stop.

So instead, I focus on Susanna and start explaining the basics of American football.

My favorite subject.





After the game—the Niners won—and the interviews and the photo ops, Jordan and Cannon were finally set free. Susanna and I stayed together the entire time, like sweet little groupies, eager to catch sight of their men.