“Okay.” My body still hums with the thrill of being pressed against him.
He leans down to kiss me, his soft, wet lips coaxing mine to move with them in a languid, intimate dance. Slowly, he pulls away, just enough to settle his forehead against mine, our noses grazing each other. “I really should go.”
My giggle is playful as I take a step back.
“And don’t you dare get rid of that.” His gaze drifts over my worn nightshirt, stalling on my chest before dipping farther down to study my thighs.
I blush furiously. “You really should go.”
His face splits into a grin.
“Here, let me get the door for you.” With my hand on the doorknob, I hesitate. I don’t want to remind him of it, but I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten. “I’m sorry about the news today. But nothing’s for sure yet.”
His jaw tenses with his nod.
Leaning in, he leaves one last, lingering kiss on my lips. “Night, Cath.”
“Night.”
I watch from the window as the taillights of the SUV disappear down the lane.
And I can’t keep myself from smiling.
Chapter 23
“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite sister?” Jack grins at me from his side of the black SUV before letting his gaze drift out the window to the city that approaches. “But don’t tell Emma. I’ll probably need a free lawyer one day.”
“Why does he have a gun, anyway?” Brenna asks loudly, and it takes me a second to realize she’s talking about Donovan. She’s been glued to the Disney movie on the little TV screen since we left home, headphones channeling the audio.
“For safety. He’s also a bodyguard,” Jack says.
“What?” she yells, then grins and pulls her headphones off. “What did you say?”
He repeats himself, adding, “The other guys had guns, too, remember?”
“They were bodyguards? I thought they were just workers.”
“They worked at being bodyguards.”
“Oh.” I can tell she wants to ask more, but, quickly distracted by the movie, she slides her headphones on again and goes back to watching.
“You gotta admit, this is pretty sweet.” Jack’s trying to play it cool, but his long jean-clad leg is bobbing with excitement.
It is nice, I silently admit, to be picked up and taken all the way to downtown Philadelphia in a nice, clean, roomy SUV, not having to worry about the city congestion or parking or navigating the one-way streets. I’ve been to Philadelphia maybe a handful of times and not usually right downtown. That’s where Brett lives, in a condo along the Delaware River, about a ten-minute drive from the arena according to Donovan.
I’m dying to see his place. A home can tell you a lot about a person. My home would tell you that I don’t have a lot of money but I take pride in finding the possibilities in the unexpected. A rickety library cart for a side table. A worn and weathered door frame that I turned into a standing mirror. A paint-splattered wooden ladder that Keith helped me mount horizontally onto the wall to use for books.
Many times over the past weeks, I’ve wondered what Brett’s world looks like. Where he lives, where he sleeps, where he likes to unwind. Soon, I’ll know.
“Why is he wearing a suit?” Brenna suddenly hollers.
I meet Donovan’s eyes in the rearview mirror for just a flash before he shifts them back to the highway and the sea of taillights, but I don’t catch a reaction, one way or another.
I lift one side of her headphones. “I guess he likes wearing suits. Stop yelling, please.”
“You should have heard Dad today, when I told him. I think he was bitter he didn’t get an invite, too,” Jack says.
“He’s getting season tickets for the next twenty-five years. Plus, I couldn’t very well bring Dad and not Mom.” And there’s no way in hell I’m subjecting Brett to that, yet.
“Just think, if you and Madden ever get hitched, you could probably get tickets to any Cup game you want.”
I shoot a glare at my brother, acutely aware that Donovan can hear us, even though he’s pretending not to listen. I would die if he went and told Brett that I was talking marriage on the way over. “You’ve been reading too many fairy tales with Brenna. No one’s marrying anyone.”
The radio fills the silence for a dragging moment.
“But imagine if you did marry—ow!” Jack rubs the spot behind his ear where I just flicked him. After a few seconds he mumbles softly, “Still my favorite sister.”
“Right.” I sigh, letting my gaze drift out over the sea of buildings that we’re approaching. This was supposed to be my life. Living in a big city, going to college, having a cool job. Seven years later, I’m still in Balsam with no life goals beyond paying my bills each month and making sure Brenna is cared for. I’m beginning to fear that I’ll turn a corner one day and find half my life gone—Brenna grown up and moving out, and me, still in that little cottage rental behind the pool hall and serving greasy breakfasts and Leroy’s famous burgers. I can only regret so much, though, because this city world I dreamed for myself didn’t include Brenna.
I frown at the horizon ahead of us. “Are they calling for rain later?”
“There’s a big storm system moving in,” Donovan replies, his voice a deep rumble. “Supposed to last into the night.”
I eye the dark clouds. “I’m glad you’ll be driving, then.”
Brenna leans over. “Mommy?”
“Yes?”
She glances at Donovan and then back to me, to whisper, “Why doesn’t he have a neck?” Only it’s not a whisper because of those damn headphones.
Jack covers his bark of laughter with a strangled choking sound.
My face burns as I shoot her that look—the one that says, “Don’t ask questions like that”—and she ducks her head. When I finally dare glance ahead, I see Donovan smiling.
We pull up beside a service elevator in the underground parking garage of Brett’s building. A man with a handlebar mustache and a kind smile is waiting there with a special key. He introduces himself as the manager and spends the next twenty-four floors talking odds of the Leafs winning the cup with Jack, who of course knows every stat on every player. I glean what I can so I don’t seem completely clueless—Toronto and LA are playing, they’re tied two games apiece, and Toronto hasn’t won a Cup in fifty years—and then I let my attention drift to my surroundings.
Brett’s building is basically what I expected—new and luxurious. Outside, it’s one of those all-glass high-rises, towering over the surrounding buildings with the river in easy sight. Inside, it’s sleek and modern, with long, well-lit hallways lined with extra-tall mahogany doors on either side.
As we reach the end of the hall, Donovan rings a doorbell.
“You’re squeezing my hand too tight!” Brenna whines.
“Sorry.” I take a deep breath to try and calm the butterflies thrashing in my stomach.
The door opens to a smiling Richard. He shifts back, giving us room to step into the simple all-white foyer. “We’ll give you a call later,” he says to Donovan, dismissing him.