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She nods solemnly.
“Is this depressing enough yet?”
“When René plays this game, it’s a lot more fun. Elton John is there, and drag queens are pallbearers.”
“Now that’s a funeral I’d go to.” I sip more wine, and my blood starts to heat. “Damn, is this strong?”
“A little. You feeling it already, lightweight?”
“I’m just…warm all over.”
“Nice,” she says with a giggle. “Are you a mean drunk?”
“Not tonight,” I say, pushing blonde strands away from her shoulders.
She hops out of my lap and takes the other side of the seat to face me. “I want to look at you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s been a long time. You look good.”
“So do you.”
She sips her wine and looks at me wistfully. “Can you believe how far we’ve come since that day at the gym? I mean, we talked about me dancing here in New York and you going pro as a fighter, but now we’re actually living it.”
“If it weren’t for you, I don’t have any idea what I’d be doing.”
“That’s not true. You already had that inkling. You were boxing again. It would have come to you even if I hadn’t hit you over the head with Tony.”
“He’s great, Harper, as far as trainers go. He’s got me with an agent. I signed the contract on the plane here.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I’m going to make some real money on this fight. Not enough to make me rich but enough to keep the ranch going for months.”
“When do you get a title shot?”
“Depends on how I do. There’s a lot to it.”
“You’ll get there, I know it.”
I shake my head. “You have that much faith, huh?”
“Yeah, I do. You’re going to be incredible.”
“You dance for a living. That’s incredible.”
She nods with a smile. “To us.” We clink glasses.
“We’re mighty full of ourselves tonight,” I say with a grin.
“When you work your asses off like we do, aren’t we allowed to have a little pride?”
“Sure.”
“We can be humble tomorrow and thankful tonight, but we can admit our status: badasses.”
“Speaking of,” I hop off the seat, still clad in my boxers and drain my glass before setting it down. Pulling my jeans from the floor, I pull out the box and make my way back to her.
