ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: Mister Perfect: (Alpha Male Billionaire Football Star and BBW Pregnancy Romance)(A Best Friend's Brother Contemporary New Adult Sports Romantic Secret Baby Romance) by Evanna Stone Page B

he first went away, we'd talk everyday
on the phone and he'd tell me all about training, no matter how tired he was. And he'd come back whenever he had a free weekend or sometimes just for a few hours on a week night to catch up with me and, you know, the
others. Now we talk less than once a month and he's not even coming home for Christmas."
                  Amber put her arm around her friend to comfort her. It was a relief to Freda when the train came rattling
into the station and obliterated their view of the Taylor Bolton poster, but Amber felt its removal from her gaze like someone had let go of her hand and suddenly she was afraid, lonely, unsure whether it might have been better
if she'd died in the accident that had wiped out her family, not sure why she'd insisted on spending Christmas alone, thinking about old times, haunting herself with photos.
                  "I'll come," Amber said.
                  "Seriously? That's fantastic." Freda threw her arms around Amber's neck and squeezed
and Amber commented that Freda was surprisingly strong for a skinny girl.
                  "I'll tell the others you're coming," Freda said.
                  "What can I bring? Your parents drink wine, right?"
                  "Non-drinkers can't choose wine," Freda said. "Just bring yourself." Then she
slipped in: "There'll be twelve of us."
                  "Twelve!" That was one more than a football team. Amber would much have preferred something
intimate, like a one on one with Freda's errant brother. Or something impossible, like having her mother and father back, alive and well. "I'm starting to regret saying yes," she joked, secretly fighting
back tears.

                  "You're not allowed to regret it until two hours in," Freda said. "It's a family
tradition."

Chapter Two: Christmas Dinner, Two Hours In
                  Freda hadn't been kidding. There were twelve at the dinner table.
                  "You're not superstitious, are you?" asked Freda's grandmother.
                  "No," Amber said. "Why?"
                  "Maybe you didn't bring a boyfriend, because you were worried about having thirteen around the
table."
                  "No," Amber said. "That wasn't the reason."
                  "No boyfriend?" said Freda's grandmother.
                  "No."
                  "Beautiful woman like you?"
                  "Thank you," Amber said. "Not that you can tell in this get up." She was wearing a
red skirt - hardly a mini-skirt, but short enough that she adjusted it every time she stood up or sat down so as not to give one of the older people at the table a heart attack - and she was wearing a red, long-sleeved, V-neck
top that was a near match. Not a scarlet woman but a nod to Mrs Claus. She had tinsel around her shoulders like a feather boa, accentuating her cleavage and she'd grabbed a festive Santa hat from her closet. Finished with
black heels, it was fun and sexy and almost appropriate.
                  "Good hips," Freda's grandmother went on, openly appraising her. "Not a bad rack."
                  Amber flushed, knowing deep down that she would have preferred to have worn jeans and a T-shirt. She was
most comfortable on her knees with her hands in dirt - watering, nurturing, watching - not tottering around on heels and smiling at everyone even though her own heart was breaking.
                  Christmas was a day Amber would have preferred to ignore, but she made the effort for her friend.
                  "Quite a face on you too," Freda's grandmother said.
                  "Thanks?"
                  "Gran!" Freda said sternly.
                  "Thanks for letting me join you," Amber said, speaking clearly. "I'm honored to