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I love her.
“We have lots of time,” I tell her. “There’s FaceTime and maybe I just buy a plane to get you back and forth.”
“Do not buy a private plane.” Fiona frowns. “They’re so bad for the environment.”
I keep kissing her hand, wishing I had more time to move on to the rest of her.
But we’re married, and that means we’ve got all the time in the world.
Eight Months Later...
Fiona
Maseislate.
He told me he’d meet me at the church, and here we are, ten minutes before the wedding is going to start, and he’s the only one in the wedding party not in their place.
“He’ll be here,” Rachel reassures me after I peek around her to look out the limo window.
“I can’t even blame it on a game,” I grumble. “He’s just late.”
“It’s Mase,” Shae says with a wave of her hand. “He’ll get here.”
But it’s Bexley who takes my hand and squeezes it. “He won’t let you down.”
It’s a far cry from the Bexley I left in Las Vegas all those months ago. She was slow to start, but she’s been by my side as Mase and I attempted the long-distance relationship—he in Minneapolis and me in Toronto.
We got together as often as we could. I would fly out for weekends to wherever the team was playing, and he would try to get here on his days off.
We spent the All-Star break at a cottage in Muskoka with Bexley and Grayson, whom I barely saw since Mase practically refused to let me out of bed.
I didn’t mind.
On my insistence, he took a real paternity test and discovered Emelia’s baby wasn’t his. And to offset the fast spread of bad publicity Emelia started, I appeared in one of Shae’s videos, talking about my life with the billionaire baseball player.
Two weeks ago, he moved into my house, and he hasn’t even made one mention of finding a bigger place.
So far, it’s gone well. The cats seem to like him, and he says he thinks Tut, my pet tortoise, is cool.
Part of me is waiting for the other shoe to drop because come next season, we’ll have to start the whole long-distance thing again.
I’m not complaining though. Having Mase some of the time is better than nothing.
As much as I’m dreading next season, there’s a big part of me that’s nervous about living together. Spending nights and days together will be a big change, one I hope he’ll enjoy as much as he says he will.
I hope—
“There he is,” Rachel cries. I don’t wait to see for myself; I push past Rachel and out of the car, with Bexley, the bride-to-be, calling after me not to mess up my dress.
“You’re late,” I call as Mase hops out of his car.
A different car than he had yesterday. “Did you buy another car? Is that what made you late? Mase, this is Bexley’s wedding day—”
He stops me with a kiss, and I melt into him, so handsome in his suit. “I bought the car last week, but I picked it up today, on my way to my other big news,” he says without taking his hands off me.
He has his hands on me as often as he can.
“What big news?”
