and his opponent slid in from either side of the screen, their stats appearing beneath them.
âWow,â Jenna said. âSecond-to-last fight. What a difference a few months make.â
Nine months and three weeks, to be precise, since that fight in Boston. And yeah, a lot had changed.
Jenna was engaged. Mercer had won the money to buy her a ring back in the spring, his first paid boxing match in years. Seemed fast to Lindsey, but the two had been living together since the week theyâd met. At this clip, Jenna would be pregnant with twins by Halloween.
Lindsey, on the other hand, was still thoroughly not engaged. So not engaged, in fact, that she and Brett were officially over, even if theyâd agreed to share the apartment until Lindsey found a new place she could afford. And in this college town, that wasnât likely until September rolled around. Five weeks was a long time to cohabit with your ex, civil though things were.
At least work was good. Her own relationship might be over, but she could still drum up enthusiasm for other peopleâs, and she seemed to be pretty adept at matchmaking. A few of her clients were pains in the butt, but on the whole, she looked forward to going to work. Though some of that could be attributed to her desire to escape her awkward living situation.
Brett stood. âAnything from the kitchen?â
Lindsey handed him her empty beer bottle. âThanks. And thank you for coming over,â she added to Jenna. âI wouldâve thought youâd had it up to your eyeballs with fighting by now.â
âI have to see if Rich wins, live and in color.â
Lindsey nodded, filled as ever by a stupid rush of bad-girlfriend adrenaline at the mention of his name. Though she wasnât anybodyâs girlfriend now.
âAnd a night out is nice,â Jenna said. âBeats watching at Hooters with the guys from the gym and all that testosterone. Youâve certainly gotten into all thisâenough to shell out to watch.â
âOh, yeah,â Brett said, returning to the couch with two bottles. âYou should see Lindseyâs porn stash.â
She rolled her eyes as Jennaâs widened.
Brett passed Lindsey her beer then leaned over to pull open the side table drawer. He plopped a few glossy MMA magazines in Jennaâs lap.
âI see.â Jenna flipped one open, then immediately winced at a photo of a freeze-framed punch.
Lindsey nearly distracted her by mentioning Rich was in that issue, then stopped herself. Best not reveal to either of her couch mates that she knew which page he was on.
Her embarrassment preempted as the first match began, Lindsey took the magazines back, leaned over Brett and shut them in the drawer.
This event had cost her fifty bucks to orderâfifty bucks that should probably have been put toward a security deposit or moving van rental. She ought to be absorbing every second of it, but all she could concentrate on was the clock, and how soon Richâs fight would be starting.
Her crush was ridiculous. And harmless? Now, perhaps. But she had to admit, it may have contributed to her permanently breaking up with Brett. It wasnât as though sheâd thought about Rich while sheâd been kissing Brett or anything heinous...but she did occasionally space out on the subway, lost in the memory of those minutes in the back of that cab.
Stupid girl. For all she knew, sheâd kissed some other womanâs lover.
Whatever the case, theyâd never gone out for that drink. And Rich hadnât been back to Wilinskiâs more than twice in the past six months, too busy training in California. Sheâd seen him during those visits, but theyâd exchanged only passing pleasantries, nothing that indicated theyâd shared anything special. Not that theyâd been alone and in any position to flirt, but stillâthere hadnât been any of that old fire in his eye contact. Something cagey,