Page 109 of The Check Down
And our wild card game is on Sunday night.
“M-maybe I can change it.” She fidgets with my buttons again. “I didn’t know the hiring committee would want to meet so soon. When they said it was on Monday—”
“Don’t change it.”
“But your game—”
“Is just a game. There will be others.” I grab her hips and tug, like it’s possible to bring her any closer. “Besides, they’re predicting a fucking snowstorm in Buffalo this weekend. Who’d pick that over sunny Florida?”
Laughing through her tears, she surges forward, hugging me tight and resting her cheek on my collarbone. “I don’t deserve you.”
I rub her back and breathe her in. “You deserve the best of the best, so I’d say you’re set.”
Her chest shakes with laughter. “Good to see that Racy ego is alive and well.”
“Always.”
I trace soothing circles on her back while we sit in silence, and neither of us budges when the sound of rain on the sidewalks outside grows louder.
Finally, I say, “I’ve decided that this is how we’ll handle all future disagreements or serious discussions—with you on my lap.”
She snorts. “Can’t throw my shoe at you in this position, though.”
“Exactly.”
Sighing, she melts into me, and we sit, listening to the rain, holding each other.
I can’t think of a more magical way to spend a Tuesday in Memphis.
I wake before dawn on Saturday and kiss Brynn’s body until she’s awake, too. Then, as the sky outside transforms from darkest night to the steel gray of early morning, I make love to her. It’s slow and sweet and perfect, and I suffuse my languid strokes and unhurried touches with every ounce of my love for her.
There was no fucking way I could abstain this past week. I’ve had her every night, including last night, like we’re living on borrowed time. I remind myself that she’s coming back so often that the words play on a constant loop in my head.
She sleeps while I shower and pack the rest of my things. As I move through our bedroom on silent feet, I try to ignore the small open suitcase that awaits her last-minute additions. She’s flying to Florida tomorrow afternoon, and by the time she returns on Tuesday, a few of our unknowns will be clear.
Will my season be continuing into the divisional rounds? And will she be heading to Florida this summer?
I check the time. Damn, I’m not ready to say goodbye. It’s not a forever kind of goodbye, but it still fucking hurts.
I perch on the edge of the bed and drink her in. She’s curled on her side, knees tucked.
Burying my face in her neck, I rub her hip. “Baby, I’vegotta go.”
She blinks awake, and as I pull away, she stretches and rolls to her back. We stare at each other like we’re memorizing every last detail. When I bend to kiss her, she loops her arms around my neck.
“You’re gonna kick ass tomorrow.”
I smile against her lips. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“Always.”
We kiss once more, then I straighten my spine. Her cheek is soft and warm when I trace its curve with my fingers. “And you’re gonna kick ass in your interview on Monday. Can’t wait to hear about it.”
Her lips stretch into a smile, and I feather my thumb over them. “I love you, Brynn.”
“Love you so much,” she whispers.
I roll my lips to hold back thedon’t gothreatening to force its way out of my mouth. Then I rise from the bed, and with my duffel in hand, I move to the door. From there, I turn and study her once more, noting the way the sheen in her eyes mirrors the one in mine.