Page 112 of Lucky 22

Good Lord. My head is spinning just trying to keep up withall of this.

“What do you say, Ella Rose? Are you ready for anotheradventure? One that’ll have us traveling a whole lot less to see each other?It’s going to be like when you flew to Tempe. Only ninety minutes instead ofthis five-hour deal. And no having to deal with customs. Won’t that be great?”

Is he kidding? Of course, it’s great. But it’s not thepoint.

It’s crazy how my wildly structured husband—a man who alwayshas a plan and a routine—is suddenly okay with uprooting our lives on amoment’s notice.

Literally.

“Ella Rose? Are you still there?”

“What? Yes. Yes, I’m here. Sorry. This is just a lot toabsorb.”

Which is putting it mildly.

We did love being in Arizona. That was truly whereour story began. Maybe it’s a good sign that we’re going back.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s a step closer to us finallysettling somewhere. My mind immediately goes back to how much I used to dreamof us settling in California, so maybe that’s back on the table.

“Look, I need to go,” he says. “I’ve got to get my thingstogether and say my goodbyes before heading to the airport. Management inPhoenix is handling a hotel for us. I’ll text you the details as soon as I havethem and meet you there. Love you.”

“I love you, too.” I hang up, gather my meager belongings,and head to the nearest ticket desk.

“How may I help you?”

“One ticket to Phoenix, please.”

If I thought the airport experience was a whirlwind,it’s nothing compared to arriving in Phoenix. I get there before Christiansince it was such a short flight, and when he arrives, we barely have time tosay hello before he’s whisked away to the stadium to meet his new team.

Leaving me alone.

With nothing else to do, I order room service andimmediately begin researching the area so I can hit the ground running onfinding someplace to live tomorrow.

He comes back late, and we immediately crash, watching TVeven as he tells me about his speedy tour and meet and greet. He sounds soexcited. It’s infectious.

I want to ask how he’s feeling physically, but I don’t wantto put a damper on the mood. So, we settle into each other’s arms and fallasleep.

The next morning, he’s on the go again. We manage to havebreakfast together before he leaves, but setting up our new life here will beon my shoulders. What would he do without me?

“I left everything you’ll need for the game today in thefolder on the table. Luckily, it’s an afternoon game, so we can relax later,”he says before kissing me thoroughly and heading out the door.

My head is spinning again.

And it doesn’t stop until the game is over and we’re back atthe hotel, where we can finally enjoy a little peace and quiet and our reunion.I know we were here together last night, but it was frenzied, and we were bothfull of anxious energy.

But now? Now is our time. Just the two of us, where we canreconnect without the rush.

As I look around our suite, I don’t think I’ll ever stopbeing amazed at how a hotel room can feel like home simply because he’s in it.Being in the same place at the same time and under the same roof does wondersfor me.

The suite is quiet. The world is hushed beyond the thickwindows. Phoenix sprawls beneath us in glittering lights, but right now, all Ican see is Christian—showered, warm, and a little tired, but still soaking inthat post-win glow as he leans against the couch with a grin he pretends isn’tsmug. His hat sits abandoned on the table, his new team jacket is draped over achair, and his arm is lazily stretched along the couch’s back cushion, waitingfor me. Always waiting for me.

I sink down beside him, and he immediately pulls me in. It’slike there’s been a him-shaped hole causing an ache under my ribs, and thepiece finally clicks back into place.

“First game in Phoenix,” I whisper, smiling into hisshoulder. “It feels…full circle.”

He gives me a soft laugh, the sound low and fond. “Yeah? Youthinking what I’m thinking?”

“Tempe,” I say instantly.