“You know it,” he murmurs as his mouth chases mine. His kiss is tender.
When he pulls back, we grin at each other. But the shaky, nervous feeling returns, and I take a breath. “But, Gray, marriage? I can barely get past this whole being-knocked-up thing and, hell, I don’t know…”
Gray runs his fingers along the fringe of my bangs. Calming me. “Look, I know it feels like everything is happening too fast. I probably just made it worse. Shit. We don’t have to get married. It’s just I wanted to give this ring to you. To show you what you mean to me. That I have your back. Always.”
Sitting in its little black box, the ring shines, the diamonds clean as ice and winking. Gray glances at it then back to me. “It doesn’t have to be an engagement ring if that scares you. Wear it because we’re together. Wear it because I love you.” He rubs the back of his neck, his skin flushed. “That is if you want to. Hell, I’ve fumbled this whole thing—”
I cup his warm cheeks and kiss him. His lips part on a surprised breath, then he’s kissing me back, deep and needy, his arm wrapping around my waist to haul me close. We’re a bit sloppy, taking and receiving kisses as though we’ve been apart for years.
By the time we calm down, I’m a little dizzy and a lot giddy. My nose touches his, nuzzling. “Maybe we can be engaged to be engaged?”
“As long as we’re together, it can be anything you want.”
“Put it on me.”
Our hands shake only a little as Gray slides the ring on my finger. It’s beautiful. So beautiful my vision blurs, and I blink to clear it.
Gray rests his forehead against mine. “So I didn’t completely fuck it up?”
Gently, I stroke his cheek, and the diamond glints in the low light. “No, Cupcake. You’re perfect. This ring is perfect. I love you so much.”
“That’s my line,” he whispers, and then he kisses me again. We tumble back onto the grass, laughing softly. Gray maps the contours of my face with his lips, all the while telling me the same thing. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Twenty-Nine
Gray
For almost two weeks, my home has been a hotel in New Orleans. I live and breathe football now. Practice, study, drills, sleep. Press junkets and mindless interviews. That’s my life. The playoff game is tomorrow, and everyone is so keyed up we just want it to be game day already. No more wading through a sea of agents and scouts and sponsors. No more smiling for the camera as we eat our free gumbo dinner. No more reading playbooks and watching footage until it runs through our heads in our sleep. Just let us play football.
This is the worst it’s been for me. Ivy thought that by staying away she’d help me keep focused. Not really. I’ve discovered that I need her with me or I feel unbalanced. I miss her so much my chest feels hollow, yet tight.
But finally she’s on her way and is due to arrive in a few hours. I’m antsy as all hell to see her. So much so that I physically have to keep moving to distract myself. One brutal workout later, and I get a text from Sean Mackenzie asking me to meet him in the hotel bar.
I’ve been avoiding him for a while. Mainly because Ivy and I haven’t decided what to do with the pregnancy. I know what I want, but I’m not going to push Ivy. I’ll state my case, but I won’t push. Stepping out of the shower, I towel off and text Mackenzie to set up a time.
Because there is one thing I’m not okay with hiding from him any longer.
* * *
Mackenzie is waiting for me at the bar. He’s already halfway through a tumbler of whiskey. I take the seat next to him and order an ice water.
“You ready for the game?” Mackenzie says by way of greeting.
“What’s that line?” I quip. “I was born ready.”
“John Wayne.” Mackenzie nods. “Cute.”