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“Yeah? I was thinking I should work on the gardens next. They need more color. Which reminds me. I need to get my hair done.” I found a few places to freshen up my pink strands.
Clay reaches for his gym bag and pulls out an envelope.
“What’s that?” I ask as he passes it over. I rip it open to find a black credit card with my name on it.
“I have a credit card.”
“Yeah, but this is on my account. Don’t argue,” he starts before I can.
“You might regret this. When was the last time you gave a woman access to your bank account?” I tease.
“Never.” The seriousness on his face makes my chest squeeze.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “I’ll try to resist pulling a Julia Roberts and buying up Rodeo Drive.”
“If it makes you smile, I want you to.”
Gahhhh.
He glances toward the TV and does a double take. “Why’re you watching that?”
“I wanted to see how our friends are doing,” I say as he sits next to me, making the massive couch sink under his weight.
On the screen, Denver is scrapping intently. Jay and Rookie, Miles and Atlas, plus a new guy who came as part of the trade with LA.
“Rookie’s gotten to the free throw line three times since I turned the TV on, and he made all of them.”
“Oh yeah?” I hear the humor in Clay’s voice as his lips brush my ear.
I smile too. “Mhmm. And Miles has been good from three. Jay’s still trying to figure out schemes with the new guy.”
“I see.” Clay reaches an arm around my waist absently. “You think you know everything about basketball?”
“Some things,” I agree, and he chuckles. “It feels weird, watching them from a distance. When was the last time you talked to the guys?”
“The gala.”
My mouth falls open. “You haven’t talked to any of them? Even by text?”
He shakes his head and heads toward our room. “At the end of the day, it’s business.”
* * *
He’s away on the East Coast for two games when I call Mari.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m still craving cheese. I blame it on the baby.”
I laugh.
“I have sono pics. Want to see?”
My mouth falls open. “Of course!”
It takes a minute for my phone to buzz, and I hurry to click into the black-and-white image.
“Oh my God. The baby is perfect.”
