Brett
For about five seconds after I hung up with Coach, neither Cassie nor I said anything.
Then the waitress appeared beside our table with a refill pitcher.
“More Coke?”
“Please,” Cassie said.
I slid my glass toward her.
Apparently, you could get a call that might change your entire life and still have someone ask if you wanted more soda.
I appreciated that.
The waitress walked away, and Cassie immediately leaned forward.
“Okay. Tell me everything.”
“That was everything.”
“Brett.”
“Coach said Chicago wants to meet with me Saturday. He’ll have the details tomorrow.”
Her smile slowly spread.
“That’s amazing.”
“It’s a meeting.”
“Oh, shut up.”
I laughed.
“No, seriously.” She pointed a fry at me. “You spent all weekend telling me my meeting was practically an interview.”
“
