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As the new head coach for Bryce’s soccer team, Eva hosts practices once a week on Wednesday afternoons. I’d love to be able to go myself, but with this week’s jam packed schedule at the office, I had Hannah take Bryce today instead.
Eva grins, the kind that touches her eyes, and my heart does a neat little somersault inside my chest.
“Practice was great. Not productive, but a lot of fun. Trying to get four-year-olds to focus is like corralling a bunch of cats. But damn are they cute. We were actually missing quite a few kids today. Apparently flu season has started early this year or something? Anyway. Bryce has taken it upon herself to be my assistant coach—”
“Lord above,” I say, shaking my head.
“She’s really good at being bossy.”
“E, you have no idea. The other day at breakfast she whipped out her ‘laptop’ and ‘cell phone’ and proceeded to conduct some serious business. Here.” I dig my phone out of my pocket. “Let me be the obnoxious parent who won’t stop showing you pictures of his kid again.”
“I always want to see pictures of your kid.”
I’m grinning now, too, scrolling to the picture I want to show her. “Thanks for indulging me. Check out my little CEO in the making,” I say with a chuckle, holding out my phone. In the picture, Bryce has her purple laptop and pretend cell phone out at the table. Brow furrowed, lips pinched, like she’s deep in thought during a conference call.
Eva bursts out laughing. “My God, that face. It’s too precious for words.”
“Yeah,” I say, chest swelling with pride. “She’s kind of the best.”
“She is. Just like her daddy.”
Eva and I kiss and grope and generally canoodle like drunk nineteen year olds while we wait for our table to be ready. When we’re finally seated, I’m relieved that Eva puts in her order pretty much right away. We’re both hungry and tired, and as much as I want to linger over the food and the whiskey, I’m beat. I feel like I’ve been awake for fucking days.
On our way out of the restaurant, Eva asks if I want to come over. I drive us to her apartment (she walked). We fuck on the couch right there in the living room, too horny—or maybe too tired—to make it to the bedroom or take off the other half of our clothes.
Holding Eva in the crook of my arm afterward, I tug my thumb and forefinger across my eyes.
I yawn. She’s quiet, eyes closed.
“I’m sorry.”
She nudges her nose against my chest. “For what? I came. You came. I’d say that was pretty damn good.”
“No, the sex was great.” I try to stifle another yawn. “I’m sorry I’m so…lame, I guess. I’m wiped. I keep waiting for things to slow down. You know, to have a day where my to-do list isn’t totally overwhelming. But no rest for the wicked I guess.”
“I feel that.” She flattens her palm against my stomach, and a small but potent pulse shoots through my skin, gathering in the head of my dick. I take a tendril of her hair between my fingers. Give it a tug. “It will get better. Grey’s coming back soon, right?”
“In a few weeks, yeah. But then he’ll only be part time for a while…well. Whatever. I don’t want to think about work right now.”
Eva lets out a breath. “Me neither. Can we just lay here? Forever?”
“Maybe sleep for a year?”
“I’d like that.”
“I’d fucking love it.”
Eva opens her eyes at that. They’re wet and tired but clear. Dark. Beautiful. Smart.
Full of sparks, the rings around them notwithstanding.
They’re full of what I’m feeling.
You know, maybe this is what love is. At least in real life, shared between real people. Lying on the couch on a Wednesday night at ten p.m. Too tired to give sex more than an eight out of ten in terms of effort. Hell, too tired to do more than snuggle. But taking the time to do it nonetheless.
Taking the time to just be with each other. No expectations. No hugely fancy date nights or diamonds.
Just us. And we’re happy that way.
I feel happy this way.
Something inside me—around me—lifts. Making the sharp-edged exhaustion filling every square inch of my being feel slightly less heavy.
I give her hair another tug. Then I extend my thumb and draw it gently over her lips.
“I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Something serious.”
“Tell me.”
“You sure you want to know?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, heart thumping in my chest. “Eva Lacy, I want to dance to LL Cool J with you for the rest of my life.”
Those lips curl into a smile against the pad of my thumb. “You know how much I love LL Cool J.”
“Then you gotta know how much I love you.”
Now her eyes are smiling, too. My heart swells. Explodes. So much goodness.
