Bright Lights and Summer Nights: A Fake Dating Billionaire Sports Romance (Black Tie Billionaires)

I hope one day I’ll be able to forgive myself for hurting him. I hope I look back and realize this was the best decision for both me and Preston because right now, I want to pull him into my arms and tell him I didn’t mean anything I’ve said.

From the moment I left Margo’s house, the comments on my video have been at the forefront of my mind. I think some of their points have been in the back of my mind from the moment I decided to come back to Manhattan with Preston and follow along with him this season.

Deep down, I knew I was falling back into a cycle I wanted to break. I kept telling myself that I had this career and that perhaps I could find myself while still being with him. But Preston deserves to have all of me, and I deserve to find myself before I end up losing myself in someone else.

I hate that I let the trolls get to me, but some of them had a point. The timing for Preston and me isn’t right at the moment, no matter how much it hurts to admit that to myself.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, wrapping my fingers in the fabric of his T-shirt.

“Can you at least tell me what changed your mind?” I hate the way his voice breaks. I know he doesn’t like to be vulnerable. He takes a deep breath, his cobalt eyes searching my face for answers. “This morning, everything seemed so perfect. What changed that?”

I swallow, not knowing how to answer him. So instead, I go with the truth, wondering if it’ll sound silly when I say it out loud. “I was looking at comments on my most recent post, and there was comment after comment of people saying you could do better than m⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck what any of them think. Please don’t tell me you’re ending this between us because of that. Because of them.” He practically spits the last word, making me second-guess even bringing up what got me thinking deeper into our relationship.

“No, it’s not that. I want to find myself in this world and on my own terms. But I’m not ready to have people dissect my life the way they are. If I keep going the way that I am, I feel like I’ll lose more of myself every day, and you don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve that.”

He winces, his eyes closing for a minute as he lets out a long breath. I hate how stiff his muscles are under my hands, that not even the press of my skin against his is comforting him.

I never wanted to hurt him, but it’s better to walk away now than down the road when we’re even deeper in this. It isn’t a secret that I started my journey by openly sharing it with the world. I was opening myself up to scrutiny, but the opinions that came from me posting on social media are nothing in comparison to the attention I’ve received since the public caught wind of me dating Preston.

People follow us everywhere, always screaming their opinions at us anytime we go out in public, and I thought I was tough enough to swim in this fishbowl with him with the constant attention he gets, but the reality is, I’m not.

I hope to one day be, but that time isn’t now.

“I wish I could change your mind,” he mutters, his voice emotionless. “I wish you weren’t just letting this end between us. Not when I feel like things are just beginning. Not when I really thought things were perfect.”

His words feel like a punch to the gut. Everything would be perfect if I felt like I was in a place where I was ready. I want that with him, but not until I feel better about where I’m at in my life.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to regain my composure. “I’d never ask you to wait for me. I want you to live your life, but maybe the universe will work out for us and the timing will be right. Maybe we’ll find each other again when I’m happier with the path my life has taken, and you’ve won that Super Bowl you so deserve.”

He doesn’t say anything. All he does is stare at me. His jaw flexes as his eyes scan my face. I want to know what’s going through his head—or maybe I don’t. I’m already trying to stay strong by doing what I think is the right thing and putting a pause on things between us.

Although the past couple of months have been nothing short of amazing, I don’t want to do long distance, only for us to end up getting torn apart. I don’t want to grow to resent him because I didn’t get to follow my own dreams.

At least now, maybe if things are right, we’ll find each other again.

We’ve both never been in a relationship, and I don’t want us to start on an unsteady foundation. He deserves to be all in for his season. When people interview him, I want them to ask about his success in the season and not about his relationship status. Especially when it’s clear that more and more people are wanting to know about us.

If he loses a game or throws a bad pass, I don’t want my name to be the reason it happened. He’s gone his whole career focusing on the sport; I want to give him that last year of doing it without me there as a potential distraction.

“If I focus on football and give you the time you need, will you promise me that we’ll revisit this? That this isn’t over between us?”

The right thing to do would be to tell him he doesn’t have to give me the time I need. I don’t want him to think I’m asking him to wait for me, but I’ve already said it once. If he’s sure that we’re meant to be and that we’ll find our way back together after this, I don’t have it in me to change his mind.

I nod, reaching up to cup his cheek in my hand. He was running late to practice this morning because I wouldn’t let him leave our bed. Because of that, he didn’t shave, so now that it’s almost dinner, stubble dusts both his cheeks. It scrapes the palm of my hand, and I try to memorize the feel of it.

“If we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other,” I get out, tears falling down my face.

I’m trying my best not to cry and make this worse than it already is, but I can’t help it. He’s everything I want in a boyfriend and partner. I’m just not who I want to be yet, and I don’t want to lose the perfect guy later down the road because I never took the time to love and find myself first.

Preston leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. He keeps his lips there, his arms clinging to my sides with his next words. “I already know we’re meant to be, Emma. I want to give you the time to not only find yourself, but fall in love with who you are too. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

A loud sob erupts from my chest. I wrap my arms around his middle, clinging to his body and wishing I never had to let go. I’d spent all afternoon thinking this through. I know I’m making the right decision. I know I need to spend time with Aunt V and take the time to figure out my next steps. I also know that he deserves to focus on his career one last time without any distractions. I know all of this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“I’m so sorry, Preston. Everything with you was perfect—is so perfect. I just need some time. I’m still happy I snuck into the club that night.”

“I’m so happy you did too, Em.” His voice is sad, shattering my already broken heart into a million pieces.

I don’t know a lot about love. I’ve never been in love, but as I cling to his warm body, I’m wondering if I was wrong for worrying about eventually falling in love with him. I think I’ve already fallen. I didn’t mean to. I tried to guard my heart and be realistic that the odds were stacked against Preston and me, but my cautiousness was useless.

“I refuse to believe this is the end for us,” Preston says against my hair. “For the next several months, I will devote myself to nothing but football. I hope you’ll do the same and realize that you don’t have to have your whole life figured out to be loved. And then, it’ll be us together in the end. The rest of the world and their opinions be damned.”

I don’t respond. All I do is savor the last few moments of feeling what it’s like to be wrapped in his arms. I’ve become so used to the feel of his body against mine, to his scent, even to the familiar beat of his heart. We may not have known each other the longest, but we’ve spent every day together for months. I know him better than I ever thought, and it’s killing me having to let him go.

“Goodbye, Preston.” My words come out muffled because of my face being pressed to his chest. His arms tighten around me with the farewell, as if he’s trying to prolong the inevitable just a little bit longer.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

I brace my palms against his chest and push off him. I’m scared if I stay in his arms any longer that I’ll change my mind. Changing my mind won’t help either of us, not in the long run. Not if we actually want this to work between us.

“You better win that Super Bowl, Rhodes.” I force a smile, wanting him to get that dream more than anything.

His eyes are red, making the cobalt blue color pop. “Only if you’ll celebrate with me after.”

“Deal.” There’s a lot of time between now and the Super Bowl in February. Maybe it isn’t too far-fetched to think I’ll be in a better place by that time. I’d love to celebrate his success after he wins it all like I know he will.

Preston tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger against my neck. “I’ll miss you, Em. You let me know when you’re ready and I’m yours.”

One last tear falls down my cheek. He watches it fall and land against my T-shirt. He stares at the small wet spot for a moment before he rips his eyes away and looks at my packed bags. “Let me help you get these to the elevator.”

“I’ve got it,” I argue, trying to take the bag from him.

“Emma, if you’re going to break my heart, let me at least help you to the door.”

All I can do is nod, not knowing what to even say back to that. I let him lead me to the elevator, holding nothing but my purse as he grabs everything else. He presses the intercom next to the elevator, calling for one of the doormen to help me the rest of the way.

Standing in front of the metal doors, waiting for the elevator to reach our floor, makes everything seem so final. He stands a few feet away from me, his eyes on the ground. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. I don’t know if there’s really anything else to say.

When the doors open, he hands my bags over to Benson, one of the doormen I’ve grown fond of since we came back to Manhattan. It happens too quickly. I want more time with him even when I know I shouldn’t, when I’m the one that made this decision for us.

Preston’s eyes find mine, and I feel like the defeated way he looks at me will forever be burned in my mind. “Remember what I said, Em. I meant every word.”

And without any further goodbye, he turns and walks down the hallway to his condo.

I watch him the entire way.

When I turn to face Benson, I know the tears streaming down my face are obvious. I step in the elevator, trying to wipe them away. All my life, I’ve said I just wanted a man to want me and spoil me, and here I am finally getting one, and I’m walking away from him. But it’s necessary. No matter how much it hurts.

Sadness washes over me as the elevator descends. All I can do is hope that I made the right decision. Putting myself first has never felt so shitty, but at the end of this, I hope Preston’s right. I hope it’ll be us.

If not, I’ll forever be grateful for the summer nights we spent together where he was mine.