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“Maxwell,” Sutton moans as she takes a bite of her spaghetti with clams and garlic in a white wine sauce, sopping up the sauce with the garlic bread we ordered to share. “This is…other-worldly.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Do you think they’d ship to Seattle?” She asks, a gleam in her eye.
“Let me make it for you sometime when we’re home.”
Home.
A topic I’ve avoided most of the day, because I don’t want to hear about her apartment hunting. I don’t want to think about the reality of her moving out of my guest room. Living on her own somewhere in the city. Somewhere that I can’t see her everyday. Where I can’t hear her singing in the shower first thing in the morning.
“You could make this for me every single night and I wouldn’t get bored.”
“Good to know.” I want more nights like this with her. As many as she’ll allow me.
We round out our meal with dessert, and I know better than to try and share dessert with her, so I order each of us our own tiramisu and espresso, the best I’ve had outside of Seattle, and I still have to fend off Sutton’s attempt at finishing my dessert when I eat too slowly.
As we step onto the sidewalk and back into the bustle of the city, Sutton reaches for my hand, twining our fingers together. “Where to next, Rottweiler?”
“Nice try, Duckling. It doesn’t work both ways.”
“I had to try,” she laughs.
We walk down to Battery Park and find a bench that offers us a great view of the water, is shaded by trees, and gives us a chance to get off our feet for a bit after a busy morning. I wrap an arm around Sutton’s shoulders as she leans close, her head on my shoulder.
I could get used to this.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Love and Baseball
SUTTON
Haveyou ever wondered if Cinderella knew that her time was ticking when she was dancing with the prince? Maybe her eyes snagged on a clock somewhere in the castle, and she felt the anxiety of midnight creeping closer and closer. Or did she banish that thought to the back corner of her mind where it belonged and just enjoy the ball. And dancing with the prince.
As afternoon slips into evening, anxiety slips in through the bubble we’ve existed in today. At some point, my carriage is going to turn back into a pumpkin, and we’re going to be back in the world of coach and pitcher. Back in the world of hiding in stairwells and kissing in shadows. We’re seated on a sidewalk not far from Times Square, at a taqueria that Max insisted I had to experience at least once, and of course he was right. As the sky darkens, the lights of Broadway start blinking to life, and lines start forming outside theaters as patrons wait to get in to see the latest shows.
Max offers me a hand up, promising that we only have one stop left for the day. Like Cinderella dancing with her prince, I take his hand and shove thoughts of this night ending to the back of my brain. I forget about the glass slipper and the pumpkin coach and I follow Max down the streets of New York one more time. On thesidewalk outside of Rockefeller Center, I look up toward the top of the towering building in front of us and Max ushers me inside.
“Everyone needs to see this at least once.”
Stepping out onto the crowded observation deck, I’m struck by the lights of the city, shining against the darkened sky. As we walk around the perimeter of the deck, I see the landmarks in a new light. The Empire State Building glitters in the night, the light at the top of the Freedom Tower winking at us from a distance.
“Max, this is incredible.” I lean against a nearby railing, staring off into the distance, watching the lights all around us. Hearing the sound of the city streets below us. Somewhere, music softly mingles with the car horns and sirens in the distance. “This whole day has been wonderful.”
“You deserved a wonderful first date,” he says, pressing in behind me, his arms bracketing me against the railing as he softly kisses my cheek.
“Is that what this was?” I whisper, almost afraid to turn around.
“I hope so,” Max’s voice is pitched low. “But Sutton, if this is going to do anything to jeopardize your career, tell me right now and I will back off. I don’t want you getting hurt in all of this.”
Max is a man of strong emotions. Controlled, but strong. When he’s happy, he has a brilliant smile that creases the corners of his eyes, and makes his whole face light up. When he’s angry, he goes quiet, a deep scowl overtaking his features; a silence that fills you with tension. Waiting,hoping,that he’ll just say something already. What I find when I finally turn to face him is hope. That thing with feathers that perches in the soul? It’s written all over his face.
“A part of me really wants to protect you,” he says. “Fromthe media. From the team. From…whatever might hurt you if we’re found out. And the other part of me doesn’t want this to be a secret. I don’t want to sneak around hotels anymore. I want to hold your hand on the sidewalk and sit next to you on the plane or the bus and…I know I’m being selfish.”
“If that’s selfish, then we can be selfish together.”
“Really?” He smiles. Soft and slow. Just for me.
