Page 9 of Fighting Fate
Rosie had her phone out as he sat down, stared at him with huge eyes. He gave her a rueful grin. “Still got signal, huh?”
“Enough to be impressed!” She put the phone down. “You’re an actual superstar.”
“Former,” he corrected.
“I don’t think you get to retire from being famous and having fans all over the world,” Rosie pointed out dryly, tilting her head back to indicate the boy still gazing at him with obvious hero-worship.
“Maybe not,” Adam conceded, “but I’m out of the public eye now and happier for it, believe me. It’s exhausting to have your every move scrutinised by press who are paid to chase every bit of gossip in your specific sport. That’s why the most recent reports about my retirement include the full text of my surgeon’s report.” He nodded at Rosie’s phone. “I didn’t want there to be any question about whether I was going to make a comeback or not, at least in professional circles.”
“I see.” She looked down at the phone in her hand before turning it off and slipping it back into her purse.
“Anything else you want to ask?” Adam asked softly.
Rosie flicked a quick glance at him, then at the father and son seated behind them. “Nothing that can’t wait,” she said, by which he understood she’d rather they had a bit more privacy to talk. He couldn’t think of anything she might ask he didn’t mind saying publicly, but he didn’t mind waiting, either. It wasn’t exactly a long boat trip, anyway.
***
“So I’ve never been out to dinner with a celebrity before,” Rosie began as they walked side by side along the Hamilton Island marina. “Are there any unwritten rules I should be aware of?”
“Probably depends on who you’re with,” Adam said, looking down at her with a wry smile. “I’m pretty cool about autographs and selfies unless I’m literally in the middle of eating, in which case I usually ask if they’d mind waiting until I’ve finished. Most people do wait until I’ve stopped eating anyway. If it gets too intense, which isn’t really all that likely here, I usually say I’ll give fifteen minutes and that’s all folks.”
“Fair enough.” She stopped outside the pizza restaurant. “Here we are. Hope you like pizza?”
“Love it, especially these days when I don’t have to micro-analyse every bite of food I eat.”
Rosie considered that as they were shown to a table and took their seats. With a tendency to carry a few more pounds than she’d really have preferred, she was a bit of a yo-yo dieter. It took impressive discipline to do what Adam had described, day in day out for what must have been years on end, while maintaining what she could only imagine was a gruelling exercise regime.
“Hi, here’s the drinks menu,” a bubbly blonde waitress placed a folder on the table. “Can I get you anything to start?”
“Iced water for me, please,” Adam said affably. “Rosie, would you like a cocktail or anything?”
“You know what, I would. Could I have a mojito, please?”
“Coming right up. I’ll leave you to look over the menus; our specials board is just up there. Gimme a shout if you have any questions!”
Rosie watched Adam’s eyes as the waitress bounced away, but he didn’t watch the pretty blonde go. He was looking at her instead, a smile on his firm lips.
“What?” she asked when he kept looking at her.
“Just admiring.” He tipped his head slightly. “Been a while since I got to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. There must have been, I don’t know, do you call them groupies on the MMA circuit? The girls who walk around the ring with those cards, too…”
“Ring girls.” Adam smiled. “Professional models, for the most part. And very nice, I’m sure, but as a professional, you get to fight maybe three, four times a year when you get to the top level. The rest of the time, you spend in a gym smelling of old socks.”
“The gym, or you?” Rosie grinned teasingly at him.
“Both, once I’d been in there long enough.”
The waitress returned with their drinks, and Adam toasted Rosie with his iced water.
“To the guy who turned you down. His bad taste is my good fortune.”
She took a sip of her mojito while she considered that. It was a nice sentiment, really. And I do believe that all things happen for a reason.
“If I didn’t say it before,” she said, “thank you so much for stopping on your run to talk to me this morning. I was having a massive wallow in self-pity and you helped me snap out of it.”
“We all need a wallow sometimes.” Adam’s gaze was direct and honest. “I spent a couple months taking way more pain pills than I needed after my surgeon gave me the final verdict on my elbow.”