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“Wait, not like you think. I don’t want there to be resentment later…”
“I’ve never lived anywhere else, since my parents plucked me out of the Dominican Republic.” Nandy says. My heart sinks. I know. He is so close to his family. “Maybe it’s time I see another city from a place other than a stage.”
I gawk at him. What is he saying?
“How long do hockey careers last?” Fynn asks.
I furrow my brow. “Depends,”
“Okay, but not like 20 more years, right?”
“Probably not.”
“So, we go to Colorado for the rest of your career and then reassess.”
The rest of my career. Holy fuck, he is ready to go all in, isn’t he? “Reassess what the location or the relationship?”
Fynn laughs at the anxiety in my voice. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want temporary. I don’t want you to treat this like some sort of trial…or experiment.” Ironic that I am the one saying that. It gets a tiny grin from Nandy. Otherwise, he is standing, still and quiet. Expressionless. I can’t read a damn thing going on behind that gorgeous face. He is letting Fynn take the lead here, why?
“Then what do you want?” Fynn presses, but his tone has softened.
“Everything.”
I rake my hands through my hair and stare at these two stunningly beautiful men who turned my world upside down in all the best ways and now have me standing before them asking what I want.
“I want absolutely fucking everything,” I say.
“I want you wearing my jersey at games.
“I want to wake up tangled with both of you every morning.
“I want to fall asleep on sheets wet from our come, with each of us too spent to get up and change them.
“I want to walk into a closet filled with my plain dark suits sandwiched between your brightly colored shiny ones and all of your leather and silky blouses and know that, well, that’s us…that we shouldn’t fit, we shouldn’t hang so comfortably together, but…
“I want it all…
“I want you both to move to Denver for me, for us….please.”
Fynn and I both turn to Nandy. His answer the determiner…shit…if he says no…are we done before we even really started? Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Why is he so stoic.
Why can’t I read his expressions. He has been leaning against the back of couch listening to my speech. Listening to Fynn and I banter about, Fynn making me lay it all out on the table. Well, I did. I tossed it all out there onto the damn floor where Nandy can walk all over it if he so chooses.
Please choose….us.
He told me once, there is no us. He said it in anger, fear…it was months ago, but it suddenly feels like decades. But also again in that weird quirk of time, like yesterday. I can hear those words so clearly. So, so fucking clearly. They still hurt. Still cut me to core. And despite his assurances, I’m afraid there was, is, truth to them.
My brain is trying to rally another speech. The one that will make him say yes…the one that will keep us all together. The one where I backtrack on everything I just said I want and make it temporary if they want. But before I can do that Nandy moves.
He uncrosses those long legs, shoves himself away from the back of the couch and steps forward. That steely expression remains unchanged. Has he been taking lessons from Brady?
I’m frozen, barely breathing, my heart races, my hands are shaking.
Nandy’s hands are soft and warm against my neck and he cradles my face in his palms. He plants the softest kiss against my lips and his eyes twinkle.
