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I groaned, wriggling in my seat. “Seriously, you can’t just say things like that when you can’t do anything about it.”
“Sure I can. Just did.”
“Well, then I’m going to masturbate.”
I had my shorts half off my bum before he grabbed my wrist, laughing.
“All right, all right. Touché.” He threaded his fingers through mine, and I decided I might not have been so happy in all my life as I was right then.
I leaned my head on the rest to watch him drive, the wind dancing through his hair, the lines of his jaw and brow bold and strong. How had I been so lucky to have met him? To have had fate dump me in his lap like this? To find a man like Remy when I least expected it was the best gift the universe had given me.
But the universe giveth, and the universe taketh away. In a few days, I’d leave on a plane that would put me thousands of miles away from him. But what else could I do? Cass and Davis would be leaving same as me for their honeymoon. I had no ties here beyond that, no reason to stay. Remy had no reason to go. And neither of us could ask for such a thing.
There just hadn’t been enough time, and there wasn’t enough left, and I hated every single thing about it.
Well, except that I had him now. I shouldn’t have been greedy, but Remy seemed to inspire that in me. He challenged me to take what I wanted in ways no one else ever had. He’d emboldened me. And I was all the better for it.
He turned into his driveway, noticing I was watching him.
“What?” he asked, his lips tilted in a smile, brows quirked.
“Oh, just considering all the ways in which I’m about to get fucked.”
His laughter felt like a million-pound reward.
“But first,” he said, parking in front of the house, “let’s make some pie.”
29
end game
JESSA
Miraculously, we made it through baking two pie crusts, whipping cream, and making the strawberry sauce without mounting each other like animals.
I stood opposite Remy with the island between us, listening as he told me a story about college baseball. A pile of cut strawberries laid in the center, the tops in a steel bowl as we made our way through the mountain of berries we’d collected yesterday with little snicks of our paring knives.
The way his face changed when he talked about the sport did something to my heart that I couldn’t quite place. He came alive, his voice full of passion and his eyes sparking with ardor. I wanted that for him always. I wished it could be his.
Remy shook his head, laughing before shifting his gaze to his hands. “You look like you’re thinking about something interesting.”
I looked at my hands too as I sliced the top off a small strawberry, then halved it. “I just love listening to you talk about baseball, that’s all.”
“Well, how about that. I’ve made a fangirl out of you.”
“It must be the uniforms. Your arse is out of control in those trousers.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I mean, if it gets you to games, I’m all for it.”
“You like having me there?”
“I really, really do.”
“I enjoy being there. When you pitch, well, I’ve started biting my nails, I’m so nervous. When you’re at bat, my stomach is twisted into knots. The anticipation is terrible. I absolutely love it.”
“I like looking up into the stands and seeing you there.”
“Wish I could go to all of them, but I suppose I’ll just have to settle for one more.”
