Page 105 of Here We Go Again

“Yeah, I bet you do,” I say.

Outside the car, an attendant is waiting with a clipboard, but Theo doesn’t seem like he’s in a hurry. We’re in the same private lot where we picked up the car—nothing like the long line of rental car returns I’m used to—and the smiling attendant seems to content to wait however long they need for us to get out of the car.

“Becca, I’m not going to pressure you,” Theo says. “I know you have your own priorities with work and your loans and going back to school. Those are important to me because they’re important to you. I mean, obviously I want you to stay. But I’m also committed to making this work no matter what happens. If we have to endure long distance for a while, that’s not a deal breaker for me.”

I unbuckle my seatbelt, then lean over the center console and kiss him. “Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”

Fortunately, our travel day is relatively easy. Theo very sneakily upgraded my ticket to first class, so we’re sitting together, and our flight leaves on time with clear weather the entire way. By the time we get back to Atlanta just before noon, I almost wish we’d had a delay somewhere just because now we have to say goodbye.

“It’s this one,” I say, pointing to Indigo’s building.

Carter picked us up at the airport, and he pulls into the nearest open parking spot.

“I’ll get out here too,” Theo says. “I can walk home.”

“You sure?” Carter asks, and Theo nods. “It’s only a couple blocks.”

Sarah turns from where she’s sitting in the front seat. “It’s good to see you again,” she says to me. “Let’s have lunch next week, if you’re up for it.”

I nod. “I would love that.”

She smiles. “I’ll get your number from Theo.”

Theo wheels my suitcase inside, and we ride the elevator up to Indigo’s condo. “This is a nice place,” he says when we stop outside her door. It’s dark wood, marked with fancy bronze numbers.

“Yeah. She makes good money. You should see the inside—actually, you want to come in? It’s enormous. Three bedrooms. Three bathrooms. An amazing kitchen. And great views of the city, though not as great as your place.”

“I would love to,” he says, “but Nico is already waiting for me.”

“Physical therapy?”

He tucks his left hand into a fist before loosening it again. “Yeah. It’s pretty much do or die at this point. Whatever it takes to be ready.”

My mind flits back to our conversation last night, to the way Theo retreated. He’s been fine today. A little more open. But we also haven’t spent a lot of time talking about his hand or his hockey team, so that’s probably not a significant observation.

I step closer and lean into him, letting my hands slide up to his shoulders. “I get it. But I’m going to hate not having you around all the time.”

He loops his arms around my waist, hands clasped at the small of my back, and leans down to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Yeah, we’ve been spoiled.” Something in his expression shifts, like he’s going to say something else, so I wait, anticipation building as his mind wrestles his words into whatever he wants them to be. Finally, he says, “So … I know we didn’t talk about labels. And it’s early, really. But are we—or are you⁠—”

“Am I going to tell people you’re my boyfriend? I absolutely am.”

Theo grins. “Good to know,” he says, then he kisses me again, this time with a little more intention, a little more heat. I nip at his bottom lip, deepening the kiss as my fingers lift to his nape, tangling in his hair.

He lets out a low groan. “You’re making it very difficult to say goodbye.”

“You’re the one who has somewhere to be,” I say. “If it were up to me, we’d spend the rest of our Sunday doing exactly this.”

His eyes flash with heat, with hunger, and my stomach tightens, nervous anticipation curling through my body. By some unspoken agreement, one likely influenced by the presence of our mothers and the squeakiness of our mattresses, Theo and I didn’t do more than kiss the entire time we were in Florida. But we aren’t in Florida anymore, and I can’t help but wonder what the physical part of our relationship will look like now.

In any other relationship, I wouldn’t even be thinking about sex this early. I’m more of a months-in-and-after-I-say-I-love-you kind of woman. But Theo and I have a past. A history. Once upon a time, we already did say I love you. A thousand different times.

Theo lifts his hands to my shoulders and spins me so my back is against the wall next to Indigo’s door, then he threads our fingers together, lifting my hands so they’re pinned above my head. He looks at me, eyes so intense, I suck in a gasp, then he kisses me like he owns me, like he cannot get close enough.

“I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my Sunday with you,” he practically growls after he’s liquefied every bone in my body. But then he pulls back, tugging my hands down and holding them against his chest, his gaze softening. “But I also want to do this right. I’m not in a hurry, Bec. When I make love to you again, I don’t want to be exhausted from training camp or distracted by my injury. I want to be intentional. I want you to be sure this time. I won’t take for granted that we already have a last time.”

My heart squeezes in my chest at the echo of his father’s words, at Theo clearly trying to honor his counsel. Which means honoring me. I see in his eyes how important this is to him, and it makes me fall in love with him just a little bit more.

Love. The word pings around my brain for a moment, like it isn’t quite sure where to land. But then it settles and slows and clicks into place. This is Theo. How can what I’m feeling be anything but love?