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"Yeah. I’m glad you wanted to talk. I love playing for your team, Mr. Armstrong. And I love making this life with you, Nathan. Thank you for this."
For just a second, he looks taken aback. And I realize that the Nathan Armstrong that I met when I first signed with the Racketeers is not the same man I’m looking at now. This man is much softer. More open. Happier.
And I know the woman who is responsible for that. For us.
I love her with everything I’ve got.
But I’d like to think that maybe I’m just a little bit of it too.
"I need to get going or I’m going to be late," Nathan finally says. "Take care of our girl tonight."
"Absolutely," I promise. "See you when you get home."
Nathan heads for the car at the curb where Andrew waits to take him to wherever this meeting is.
I turn and head back inside. Dani and I have the house to ourselves now. But she’s upstairs writing and I don’t want to interrupt. This new publishing deal of hers is amazing. We’re all so proud of her and we know that once the baby comes, her schedule is going to change a lot, so she’s trying to get as much writing done as she can now.
I settle back down on the couch and flip through the channels, finding an old sports movie I love about halfway in.
But it’s only ten minutes before I hear soft footsteps coming down the stairs.
I pause the movie and look over as she pads across the room to me. She’s dressed in silky, loose lounge pants and a matching silky top. I can tell she doesn’t have a bra on because her breasts are pressing against the front of the flimsy material. She looks relaxed and a little tired, but she gives me a soft smile.
"Hey, pretty girl," I greet.
"Hey." She sinks down onto the couch and immediately pivots so that she’s lying back with her head in my lap.
I drop a hand to her head and start stroking my fingers through her hair. "How was the writing?"
Her eyes slide shut, and she gives a contented sigh as my fingers slide over her scalp. "Great. I finished the chapter. But I’m definitely done for the day."
"Yeah?"
"Yep."
"Okay, then." I reach for my phone. "Do you want cheeseburgers or nachos?"
Her eyes open wide and she looks up at me. "You mean it?"
"Of course."
"Michael’s been really adamant about vegetables and stuff."
I grin at her and pull my fingers through her hair. "I’m not Michael." I lean over and brush my lips against hers. "And neither of your overprotective, bossy husbands are here, are they?"
"No, they’re not," she whispers against my lips.
"It’s just me. You’re super fun, extra naughty, always up for a good time boyfriend. And I’m going to spoil you and feed you junk food, and massage your entire body, and we’re just going to lie here on this couch and watch stupid TV."
"Oh. My. God," she says softly. "I’m so madly in love with you."
I chuckle and kiss her again.
"I’ve missed you," she says, running a hand over my stubbled jaw. "I feel like we haven’t had enough time, just us."
That makes my heart squeeze.
Our foursome works very well. In fact, I would say all four of us agree that it needs to be all four of us to work at all long term.
