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for a meeting about a potential contract with the Panthers.  Emory just assumed Alexis was at home in their mansion, with their fair-haired children.  Mason placed his hand at the small of her back, almost out of habit, but quickly moved it away. Emory shivered at the brief contact, praying he hadn’t noticed.
    They wandered around Freedom Park for almost an hour.  She pointed out her favorite spots to him.  The conversation flowed somewhat easier, with Emory doing the bulk of the talking, which helped to calm her nerves.  She rambled on about her job, describing how she loved to shoot in natural light, during the “magic” hours, and the beautiful children with whom she worked.  She talked so much about her job she feared she was boring Mason; after all, he had dumped her because she wanted a career.
    But he didn’t seem to be bored -- at least he wasn’t showing it.  He smiled and nodded along as she talked.  He enjoyed hearing her voice -- it had been so long -- and was thankful he didn’t have to carry the conversation.  Then her stomach suddenly growled loudly, interrupting her discussion of camera lenses that Mason was pretending to follow.  He laughed at the noise.  “I guess some things never change.”
    “My insides are bigger than my outsides.”
    “You know, almost every memory I have of us involves you eating,” he said, though his mind also conjured up sexual images, too, Emory stiffening at his fond mention of their past.  “You used to get so moody when you were hungry.”
    “Still do.”  She threatened with a smile.
    “Is there some place around here to grab a bite?  I don’t want to see moody Emory.”
    She suggested a little Spanish restaurant on the outskirts of Freedom Park, a cozy place that only locals knew about, and they headed that way.  Upon arrival, Mason opened the door for her, and when they were shown to a table, he pulled out her chair.  Emory smiled, pleased the NFL hadn’t ruined his Southern manners.  A waitress approached with menus and water, informing them of the daily specials, and quickly exited.  Emory fidgeted with her water and stared at her menu, finding herself hiding behind it.   This is so stupid .   After a sip of water, she dared to look up, and for a moment, their eyes met, the moment lasting a little long for her comfort, relieved when the waitress returned to take their order.
    “I feel like I’ve done all the talking,” Emory said after the waitress left.  “Tell me how the NFL and Alexis have been to you.”  Emory didn’t care so much about the NFL but wanted the scoop on Alexis, and wanted to pretend she was fine he was presumably still married to her.
    “Well, considering my arm is in a sling, I would say not so well.” 
    Why does he keep avoiding Alexis ?   Emory figured he was just uncomfortable talking about his wife with her, and she decided not to push it.  “How’s your arm?” 
    Mason grimaced.  “Still have a ways to go.”  The waitress returned with their drinks. 
    “Well, the Panthers seem interested.  Any other teams on the radar?”
    “I’m going to Seattle in a few days with Steven.” 
    Emory’s face lit up.  “Oh my goodness, how is Steven?”
    Mason bragged about his brother’s success in the courtroom and as a sports agent, and that Steven had married a few years ago and was expecting his first baby in a few months.
    “Married and a baby coming, wow!  That’s just the best news!  You must be thrilled to be an uncle?” 
    “Yeah, it’s just great,” he responded, taking a big drink of water.
    “Please tell Steven congrats and hello from me.  I just know he’s going to be a great dad.” 
    “Will do.”   This isn’t going well.  She’s more interested in my douche bag brother than me !
    Emory noticed a hint of sadness -- or jealousy -- in Mason.  She was surprised how easily she could still read him.  She blamed his emotional swings on his shoulder, recalling how her own