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He shrugs. “I guess I love it the same way you love those damn slippers.”
I laugh and take a seat on the couch, drawin
g my legs up and sitting sideways so I can face him. “Why are you up?” I ask him.
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Couldn’t sleep. I take it the same is true for you.”
I nod reluctantly. “’Lot on my mind.”
“Yeah, me too.” He looks away.
My heart lurches with fear that he’s having second thoughts about us, which is stupid because I’m the one that’s spent the whole day fighting this. If he is having second thoughts, I should be jumping for joy, not feeling so glum. I’m beginning to realize that the next three months are going to be harder than I thought. I mean, for instance, take the incident in the kitchen this afternoon—he kissed me and I just melted into him instead of pushing him away like I should have.
I clearly am a glutton for punishment.
I don’t know how I’m going to go to work tomorrow and act completely normal—like something monumental hasn’t happened.
Even though I’ve spent the day trying to ignore what’s happened, I can’t.
This man sitting beside me is my husband.
“Come here,” he says and opens his arms. I dive into them gladly, resting my head on his chest.
This right here feels like home, and I know I could get all too used to it.
He brushes his lips softly against the top of my head and whispers one low word.
“Please.”
I know what he’s saying without him even speaking the words.
He wants me to give him a real chance. He knows that I only agreed half-heartedly this morning. I don’t answer him, but I lean closer, and he sighs in relief.
Nothing more is said, and we both drift off to sleep.
I wake up early, thankfully, and carry Thea up to her bed. She’s so out of it that she doesn’t even stir as I lay her in her bed and pull the frilly pink blankets up to her chest.
I can’t help but stand there and look at her a few seconds longer.
She’s so beautiful and completely unaware of the effect she has on me.
I tiptoe across her room and into the bathroom that joins with my room.
It’s only four in the morning, and I don’t have to be up to get ready for work for another two hours, but I know I’m never going to be able to fall back asleep. I only managed to get a few hours in because Thea was with me.
I walk over to my closet and grab a blue button-down shirt and a pair of navy pants and a tie.
It was all a lie as I put on the clothes, playing the part of the good son and friend, following in the steps of what everyone else wanted for me. This life isn’t for me—working in an office five days a week, nine to five. Don’t get me wrong, architecture isn’t bad, and my dad is cool, but it isn’t what I love.
I love football.
I love the rush, the adrenaline, the high of screaming fans. I love the sounds of our cleats tearing into the turf and how the power seems to build inside you, making you feel invincible. Football has been my life since I could walk.
I’d had agents interested in me and stupidly turned away all offers because I deluded myself into thinking they were only interested in me because of Cade.
Cade is one of the best football players I know, and the guy could have gone pro, but he didn’t want it. Not like I did.
I entered in the draft, unbeknownst to my friends and family, hoping I got picked. I didn’t tell my parents, or Cade, or even Thea. No one knew. They all thought I was content to head into my career in architecture. But I wasn’t. And then I got picked for my hometown team, the Denver Broncos; that was two months ago, and I still haven’t told anyone. I don’t know why. My parents have always been supportive of my love for football, but my dad was so happy when I went to work for him during my senior year of college, and I guess I’m afraid that maybe he’ll be disappointed if I don’t follow in his footsteps. As for my friends, I know Thea, Rae, and Jace would be happy for me, but Cade? I don’t fucking know. We’ve done practically everything together since we were little and it only seemed natural that we’d both become architects and work for my dad too. But then this last year, I realized that’s not what I wanted. I want to play ball, so I kept it from them. I lucked out that apparently no one close to me watched the draft on TV. Sure, my teammates and coach knew, but it was easy to keep it a secret from Cade. After the football season ended, he hasn’t wanted to have anything to do with the sport—I’ve always gotten the impression that he never really loved it all that much. Since I don’t want Cade to know, I’ve kept it a secret from everyone else too—it’s not their burden to bear—but I know my time’s running out and it ticks down incessantly in my mind.
