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“Right.” I laugh it off. “This thing is huge.”
“Like I said. Good for pawning or busting drywall.” His lips twitch.
“Maybe you could put it on a shelf and resist doing either. At least for the time being.”
“Maybe,” he agrees, his smile fading as he sets it back in the box and moves the box to the coffee table.
“How are you doing since the all-star announcement?” I ask.
“Fine. Seriously,” he goes on at my expression. “It’s not like last year. I’m not riding the edge. But maybe it’s for the best I stay here and rehab.”
“I brought you donuts, but the championship ring kind of overshadows those.”
“Agree to disagree. But, I have something for you too.”
He reaches for his phone on the table and types a few keys before holding it out.
On the screen is what looks like a ticket.
Scratch that—two tickets. One in his name and one in mine.
My brows pull together. “Aruba?”
“Figured we could spend the weekend there instead. We could swim. Eat pineapple. Plus, I hear sand is good for rehab.”
“Pineapple,” I echo.
Clay lifts me and settles me over his lap. I’m gripping the phone in one hand, his tattooed shoulder in the other.
I’m surprised and skeptical he’s not more messed up over this. But it’s hard to concentrate when he looks so sexy and determined.
“We should talk about this,” I try once more. “The all-star thing.”
He leans his head back and holds my gaze, his hands dropping. “It sucks that I wasn’t chosen.” Here it comes. “But… I’ve played with those guys plenty before. One more recognition doesn’t have to define my career.”
“Sounds like your therapist talking.”
Clay lifts a shoulder. “If I’m going to pay him, it might as well rub off.”
“You mean that?”
“I might have let out a couple of choice words,” he admits, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But my life is more than basketball. And even though when I’m in the season all my focus is on competing, I have to hold some part of myself for everything that’s not on that court. It would be fun to be normal for a change.”
“Normal?” I echo, lacing my fingers around his neck.
“I hear normal people pack shorts and hats and run to the beach for a last-minute winter vacation for the vitamin D.”
I’m intrigued. I can’t remember the last time I did that, and I can’t picture Clay having ever taken a break midseason.
“One more thing.” He shifts out from under me and heads down the hall, returning a minute later with one hand behind his back and the other holding two huge purple flippers. “Remember these?”
My mouth falls open. “From your closet in LA!”
I take one from him, turning it over. “I can’t believe you remembered these. They’d be perfect to take.”
“Except that one would fit both your feet.” He removes the other hand from behind his back. In it are two smaller pink flippers. “These ones are yours.”
I’m so touched. “I love them.”
