“You said you want to ‘be chosen.’Ichoose you. But doyouchoose you?” I smile as he dashes a tear from his cheek. “You’ve opened the door for Hall. Keep it propped open! But you can do a lot more for him and for everyone else on the team if you’re in the room, too. Walk through the door, Cap. You’ve already been invited in. Stop holding back and walk through the door.”
He presses his hand over his eyes. “I want to. But I’m not sure I know how.”
His confession makes me feel like parts of my heart are crumbling. “Then what if you focused on enjoying yourself, for a change?”
He scoffs. “I play a game for a living. You don’t think I’m enjoying myself?”
“No. You look like you’re trying to make it about anyone but you, every play. Like you don’t want to steal a single spotlight in case someone else wants to get under it. I’m not saying you should hog all the attention, but I think the only way for you to go out there and show them what you’ve got is to show them whoyou really are: a guy who cares deeply, yes, but one who laughs loudly, too. Do a windmill save. Get flashy. You enjoy life too much to white-knuckle your job, Cap.”
He laughs, a short burst of realization. “Okay. You’re right. I promise I won’t hold back. I’ll try to have fun.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you sure you’re not just agreeing with whatever I say to get me to tell you I love you?”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I snicker. “Maybe I shouldn’t say it. It’s already been immortalized in text.”
“Not the same.”
“Why does it matter? We both know how much we care?—”
“It matters. You know it matters. I know it matters.”
I sigh, like the thing he’s asking is just so hard instead of something that feels like floating. Then I smile at his face on my screen, wishing he were here with me.
“I love you.” I pause, and then I let the next words come out, words that are essential for him to fully understand my message. “I love you, and forever isn’t long enough.”
“I quit. I’ll be right home.”
I laugh. “No you won’t. You’re going to finish that camp. You’re going to blow their minds with your love of the gameandyour skill.”
“And then I’m coming home to my wife?—”
“And we’re updating those résumés.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I grin at him. He grins at me.
“I love you, Boss. Kayla. You’re my forever.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
KAYLA
Scottie comes into my office holding the onyx leopard print tumbler I bought her (they were out of pink). It’s glossy and gritty and perfect for her.
“That had better be water in there,” I tell her, looking up from my computer for only a second. “You need at least eight cups a day.”
“Oh my gosh, Mom, enough,” Scottie says like an angsty teen. “It’s my life, okay!” I laugh. “It’s water. But I promise you’re going to want something a lot stronger when I tell you what Clementine heard.”
I stop typing and fix my attention fully on her. “Don’t tell me?—”
“Serena’s protesting your ownership of the team. She’s collected signatures.”
I bang my head against the desk.
“It gets worse. Aldridge has kindly offered to arrange a buyer for you secretly to ‘shield you from the embarrassment this will put on your family.’ That’s a direct quote.”
