My heart—what’s left of it—shatters into little pieces. I think it’s breaking for the sole purpose of seeing if he’ll be the one to put the pieces back together again. His eyes lock on mine, and mine lock on his, and in that moment, I am ready to give up everything.
But he gives his head a slight shake and flicks his chin toward Lisa. I follow his gaze and find Lisa there, holding the microphone out to me, her eyes expectant. I snap to it, a surge of adrenaline kicking my fears to the curb. My longing for Ryan is replaced by my loyalty to Lisa—at least for now—and I vow to not let her down.
I grab ahold of that microphone, and a beat later, a natural smile finds my face. I step forward to the edge of the stage and, just as we rehearsed, we run through our ten-minute bit. The audience is laughing, chuckling—I think Phil wiped a tear from his eye. I’m on cloud nine, cloud ten if that exists, cloud freaking nineteen if I can find it.
Rick flashes the red light at the back of the room, and I catch a glimpse of a grin on his face. We’re a hit, I just know it. I pass the mic back to Lisa and she wraps up with our final practiced joke, and the crowd erupts.
Throughout all of it, my eyes scan over Nick—who’s giving us a smile that looks like dollar signs—past a casting director that I know has worked on big blockbusters, past everyone until I find him. Ryan.
“Thanks, folks,” Lisa says. “Enjoy the pizza. Order Peretti’s, and have a great night!”
Lisa drags me backstage before I can run to Ryan, and I go, but only because she’s on the verge of tears. She’s jumping up and down, hugging me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m in shock.
“We nailed it!” she cries. “We’re going to make it, Andi, I know it! Did you see the room out there?”
I manage to hug her back, and her arms are like pythons squeezing the life out of me. I go limp and work on taking deep breaths, but it doesn’t work. Then I lose all of my breath when the curtain to the backstage area opens and it’s Ryan, alone, holding a pizza.
Lisa must hear the catch in my breath because she pulls away, asking if I’m okay.
I nod, and she follows my line of sight.
“Oh,” she says softly. “Right. Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Nick. I’ll leave you two alone to…well…”
She squeezes my fingers and, with a final smile, disappears.
Ryan and I are alone, and the air is crackling with tension. I equally want him and wish him away. If we can’t make this work, seeing him will only make the pain of losing him ache longer.
“I brought you something,” he says with a wink, breaking the silence. He lifts the pizza box higher. “I figured you’ve delivered me enough sustenance to last a lifetime, and it was time to return the favor.”
“Peretti’s?” I look at the box. “I don’t understand.”
He sets the box on the table. “I needed to talk to your dad.”
“What?” My heart thumps in my chest. “Why?”
“It’s too soon to ask you to marry me, Andi, and we have too much to figure out,” he says. “But I wanted him to know my intentions.”
I blink, fidgeting with the lace on my shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m not understanding…”
“I want to date you, Andi.” He steps forward, takes my fingers in his hands—hands that are large, warm, and capable of so many wonderful things. “But I don’t want to date you for one night. I don’t want to fake date you or have you play some stupid game. I play games for a living. What I want with you is real.”
“But your agent…”
“She’s not my agent,” he says, his jaw firm. “I went to her office this morning to set the record straight. She offered to sign me, and I said no.”
“Why? Ryan, you can’t! These are your dreams, what you’ve worked for your whole life. Maybe I overreacted when I left this morning. We can figure things out, make something work—”
“I don’t want to make something work, I want to be with you—out in the open, for the whole world to see. I just need you to say yes. Tell me you’ll give me a chance to make things right.”
I hesitate. “But—”
“We’ll figure out the details. I want you to have your career, and I’ll have mine. We can have a condo in Los Angeles and a house in Minnesota—whatever it takes. I will do anything to be with you, Andi. Anything.”
“You gave up the chance to sign with one of the best agents in the business…for me.”
“I’m still doing what I love—playing hockey for a career. That’s all I need. The rest is bonus, icing on the cake.” His long lashes brush against his cheeks as he leans close to me. “You’re not the icing, Andi. You’re the cake. Without the cake, there is no icing. I need you.”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest. “I’m the cake? That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Christ, Andi, I’m trying—”
“Stop, Ryan.” I raise a hand and smooth it across his face. He’s looking pained, and I can’t stand the uncertainty in his eyes. “I want to be your cake.”
“Andi Peretti.” Ryan hooks his arms around my back. “Thank God you delivered that pizza.”
“And destroyed your car.”
“And pretended to be my girlfriend.”
“And ran away from you.”
“And most of all…” He pauses, his lips a breath away from mine. “It’s a good thing you said yes just now, because I can’t live without you.”
“Ryan,” I say, my voice a low, husky murmur. “Stop talking.”
He blinks once, and I watch as understanding sinks in. His eyes darken, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and then we both move at once. Our lips meet in a rush of need, his arms sliding around my lower back, his hands gripping my backside as he lifts me from the ground. My legs circle his narrow waist, and my arms slide around his neck.
He stumbles forward from momentum, the pair of us off balance, and we fall onto the backstage couch. The athlete in him emerges, swooping me onto his lap with surprising grace given the fervor of our movements. My arms claw at his shirt, and one of his hands slips into my new jeans.
He nearly rips my new, lacy black undies as he pulls me hard onto his lap, and I feel every glorious inch straining beneath his jeans. I’m perched over him, ready; all that separates us are two layers of clothes.
“I’ve missed you,” I tell him, completely oblivious to any of our surroundings. “I’ve missed kissing you.”
“Baby, we’re in public,” he says. “We should wait—”
“Public?” My breath comes out as a gasp as I turn and gesture toward the empty room. “The door has a lock.”
Ryan stands, takes two steps toward the door, and comes face to face with Rick as he bursts into the backstage area.
“Andi,” Rick is saying, “You nailed it out there—shit!”
Ryan’s standing there, a little awkward, his boner staring big, burly Rick in the face. I think the top button of his jeans is undone, and I know for a fact that I’m sprawled on the couch all rosy-cheeked and ready.
“Christ, Andi, not the fucking couch!” Rick storms out and slams the door behind him, still shouting at us. “Get a room—your own room.”
Ryan, to my surprise, leans forward and slides the lock shut. When he turns toward me, the devil is dancing behind those chocolate brown eyes. “What’s this I hear about the couch?”
EPILOGUE
Andi