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“You moved an ocean?”
“I wish,” I say, then take a deep breath and put my heart on the line. “I want to start over and try to make it work long-distance. I know that sounds impossible. I live in San Francisco, and you live in London. We both have jobs we love that aren’t going anywhere. But I’m falling for you, Hunter Colburn.”
“Oh, thank god you said that,” he blurts. “I’ve been falling for you forever, it feels like.”
His unrestrained excitement and relief are one of the reasons I adore him. He’s so upbeat and so real. I need him.
“So I came up with a game plan,” I say.
“Give it to me,” he says, wiggling his fingers.
“You travel to the West Coast a lot, and I figure I can fly to LA to see you as long as it’s not a game weekend. Or wherever you are. And then there’s the off-season,” I say, nerves and butterflies racing through me. This is the big ask. “It’s long. Six months long, Hunter,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “And I like London a lot. I like it with you.”
Hunter blinks, then breathes out hard, his lips parting in…wonder. “You want to spend the off-season in London with me?”
He sounds…flummoxed. Shocked even.
“Yes, I do. Is that scaring you?” I ask.
“No. It’s thrilling me.”
“Good. That’s so damn good. And we can be…boyfriends instead of…” But I don’t say husbands.
I’ve loved every second of being his husband, I don’t want to sully the word and make it sound like a mistake.
Hunter’s quiet for a beat, his eyes thoughtful. Then, he says, “Let’s start over, Nate. This sounds like a great game plan.”
Smiling and feeling all kinds of fizzy, I kiss him, then say with a sigh, “Maybe we can go to a dog park sometime.”
“Is that code for a new sex move? I’m down for it.”
That’s my guy. He’s down for anything. Which is one of the reasons I’m wild for him.
43
DOES THAT SOUND GOOD?
Hunter
This is the best way to wake up—Nate between my legs, sucking me off. Coming before I even get out of bed.
Afterward, I stretch luxuriously. “I’m really going to like the off-season.”
He settles next to me, runs his fingers through my hair. “And that’s how you should wake me up when you come home in the middle of the night.”
I laugh but only briefly.
My mind snags on the word home.
What will home be when he comes to London? I’m almost afraid to ask, but he put himself on the line last night, so it’s my turn. “Nate, when you come to London, will you get your own place? Or will you stay with me?”
He props his head in his hand. “I don’t know. What do you want?”
I swallow roughly, pushing past my nerves. I want him with me, but before I can answer, he sets a hand on my chest. “We can take it slow and figure it out,” he says.
He’s handling everything differently this time around. Undoing his past mistakes seems important to him, so I don’t protest. “Sounds good to me,” I say cheerily, then swing my legs out of bed. “I should shower and get dressed for my meeting with Ilene.”
I never checked into a hotel, so I brought my bag to Nate’s house last night.
“I’m meeting some of my teammates for a workout over on Fillmore in an hour,” Nate says as he pops out of bed too. “But when are you free later? Oh! Can you come to the auction with me tonight?”
I laugh. “As the emcee’s date?”
Nate shoots me a stern look. “You’re the emcee’s boyfriend, and don’t you forget it.”
I beam. “I won’t forget it, and I’d love to be your date.”
As I riffle around in my bag for clothes, my phone buzzes. His beeps.
“Aww, our phones are having simultaneous Os,” I remark.
Nate laughs and picks up his mobile from the nightstand, reading a text as he heads to the bathroom.
I have the same message—a group text from Vance to Nate and me.
Vance: I worked my magic. I got Hunter on as the co-host for the auction tonight. It’ll be your final husband hurrah. You’re welcome.
I roll my eyes. “Your agent is a piece of work.” But Nate looks lost in thought, standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned.
He looks up from his phone, almost like he forgot I was here. “Yes. So we’ll be responsible and get a divorce…and then date?” He sounds so serious.
“That’s what you wanted, right?” I ask, even though the word divorce feels all wrong when you’re falling for someone.
“Sure,” he says, then he tips his forehead to the shower. “Shower with me.”
Bossy Nate is in the house, so I set down my phone. Serious thoughts can wait.
At The Happy Cow on Union Street, I sit across from a pink-haired bundle of energy, nursing a cup of tea while we conduct a postmortem on last night’s party.
