“I have the gist of it. You’re playing a game that can potentially damage your brain.”
He frowns. “I scored the last points of the Super Bowl. The Pythons took a chance on me, and I delivered. People are counting on me to come back, and it’s not just that—who would I be without the game? I don’t have anything else.”
Brody. Cas. Me?
“I’m taking a risk, but every day is a risk. I could go swimming in the ocean tonight and drown. I could have a car accident. Yeah, I worry about knee injuries, and my head, but most pro players do. Some of us are terrified, but we shove it down and keep on going. When I win a game? It’s the highest I get. The adrenaline, the knowledge that I’m the best at what I do? It gives me pleasure, a sense of belonging. The pressure from the team, the fans, the feeling that if I quit, then I’d be giving up the best thing I’ve ever had, the only thing that’s been consistent and true to me. This is who I am. It’s made me famous. Who would I be without football?”
“You’d be you,” I say softly. “You could start over, do anything you wanted, belong to something else. The world is open to you.”
“Are you?”
I start. “Am I open to change in my life?” I huff out a laugh. “I married you. That’s a change.”
His gray eyes capture mine, then look away. “That’s not what I meant,” he says as he turns away from me, looking at the ocean.
A lone seagull squawks in the distance as the tide rolls in over our feet.
“You told me in the kitchen at the store that you loved someone else. You meant Divina.”
When he doesn’t answer, I continue. “Not that it matters, because this is a marriage of convenience, but I’d like to know if you plan on being with her.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I feel nothing but regret that she fooled me. I realize now how lucky I was to get away from her. Not only did she cheat on me, but she’s ready to cheat on Holden, although he’s never been faithful to her.”
“Then you lied to me when you said you loved her.”
“I knew you didn’t want to get your heart involved, so I wanted to assure you that neither did I. And you? Talking to Kian on our wedding day?”
I huff. “I’m sorry, okay! I only did it to protect you.”
He groans. “Emmy, never protect me. Always consider your own safety. Never see him again. Promise me.”
“Okay,” I say quietly on a sigh. “But you . . . you kissed her.”
“So we’re going to fight on our wedding night?” He sends me a wry smirk.
I kick sand at him. “Stop being cute. This isn’t a real wedding night. I just want to know what’s going on. If you want her, fine, fuck her, but you can be assured that I despise Kian.”
“I don’t want her,” he mutters. “I thought I made that clear. You assumed I kissed her. If you’d stuck around, you would have seen me push her away. It’s not the first time she’s come on to me, Emmy. Last Christmas, she sat next to me at dinner and couldn’t keep her hands off me. Touching my arm, my leg, whatever. She isn’t a good person. She isn’t you.”
My heart dips, and I blink. “Oh.”
Before I realize it, we’re back on the path of the cottage and on the deck. The silence between us stretches like a rubber band as we rinse our feet at the outdoor faucet, then go inside.
I busy myself with cleaning the kitchen again, and when I finish, I turn to see him in his boxer shorts in the den. He’s fluffing an extra pillow he must have gotten from the linen closet. He tosses it on the couch, then turns around to face me.
He is magnificent. All hard, marbled body muscles as if he’s just stepped out of a Michelangelo painting. I lick my lips nervously, then clear my throat. “There’s no way you’ll fit on that couch. The bed is big enough for the two of us.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw. “It isn’t.”
“It’s a king-size bed.”
His gaze lingers over my face, then down to my cleavage, peeking through my slip.
“If I get in that bed, I’m going to ask to fuck you, and you’ll say yes, and we’ll make up an excuse that it’s to ‘break the tension’; then . . .” He stops, an eyebrow raising. “You want that?”
My throat prickles with the word yes. “No.”
He moves so fast that I blink when he’s right in front of me. “Is that so? Then explain to me why those pretty green eyes are blown, Emmy.”
I tilt my head up at him, ready for a comeback, but I have nothing, not when I see the desire on his face, the lascivious way his gaze drinks me in as if he’s a man starved in the desert.
I press my hands on his chest, sliding them up until I curl my arms around his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing my husband good night.” My lips lightly brush over his. It was barely even a kiss, yet I watch with bated breath as I pull back, and he brushes his fingers over his lips, as if savoring the taste of my kiss.
Part of me wants to fall into his arms, but I can’t.
It happened once, but . . .
“Go to bed, wife,” he says with hungry eyes.
I feel his eyes on me the entire way down the hall. I shut the door and lean against it, shuddering. Jesus. What am I going to do about Graham and these feelings? Wait for them to pass? Ignore this fantastical connection we seem to have?
Ugh. Whipping off my clothes, I step in the shower and let the hot water wash everything away. All of it. Graham, his family, Kian. I slip on the lingerie Jane sent and consider calling her and being pissy about my lack of clothes, but I figure Londyn is asleep.
I curl up in the bed and fall asleep, my dreams turning dark as Graham is on the football field underneath a pile of players.
The next morning I’m awake by six as I try to remember where I am. The beach. I get excited when I find a fluffy white robe in the back of the closet. I slip it on and tiptoe out into the den.
He’s not on the couch. In fact, it looks as if he hasn’t been here at all.
I’m making coffee when I find the manila envelope with a note on top of it on the counter.
Emmy,
I left after you went to bed. I’m certain no PI followed us so no one will know. Enjoy the beach. In the envelope are keys to the apartment and cash for whatever pops up. I’ll be in Atlanta, then I’m going to Seattle to handle some personal things. I’ll text you soon.
G
My heart thumps erratically, and I tense up, a chill running down my spine as I drop the note. Pressing my hand to my chest, I gasp in a deep breath and exhale slowly out of parted lips. Inhale, exhale. Gradually, it steadies itself, and I’m unsure if the episode was simply due to the fact that Graham left me or something else.
Just enjoy the day. Bask in the sun. Fine, I can do that. Alone.