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“Surprise? Say what?” I grip her shoulders and physically move her to the side. I look around where she stands for any sign of our daughter and see none. No stroller. Nothing.
Realization clouds her features. If only I could find the same fucking clarity because I’m still seconds from losing my shit here.
“Take a deep breath, Damien. Astria is with Sylvia. I saw you get off the elevator with Carter, I was sure he let it slip when I saw the two of you together.” She speaks quickly, answering my questions, but not quickly enough. Her answers only create more questions in my mind.
“Why is Astria with Sylvia, Click? You’re not making any sense. Did she need an emergency haircut? I don’t get it. Help me understand before I die. Jesus, woman.” I try to calm my voice, but I can’t rid it of the worry that is draining years off my life every second we stand in this godforsaken hallway.
“Sylvia is keeping Astria for the weekend.” She pauses a beat before continuing. “For us.”
“Are you pregnant, Click? Because the last time you surprised me you were pregnant, and I know for a fact…” My voice trails off. I know I shouldn’t ask, but damn, tonight just keeps getting wilder with each passing minute. Is it a full moon?
“What? No! Why would you think that?” Gia looks horrified that I would even make the suggestion. The thought makes me feel sick on my feet, and not because I wouldn’t want to see her pregnant again, I do. Just not with anyone’s babies but mine.
We agreed not to see other people, and for almost two years now I’ve had no intimate relationships with anyone except my fucking hand.
“Then why are you here?” I don’t mean it the way it comes out, and judging by the look on Gia’s face, she’s not hearing it the way I intended either. I’m fucking this all up. Whatever it is that’s happening here.
“You asked me to come.” She whispers and her smile dips.
“I always ask you to come.” I stand in front of her like the idiot that I am, still unable to reconcile the events that led up to this moment.
“This was a mistake. I’m sorry, Damien.” She grabs the handle of her suitcase, clearly exasperated with me, and takes a step past me when finally, my brain decides to catch up.
“Click, stop.” I reach out and wrap my fingers around her small wrist.
We stand in the hallway of the hotel, alone, and I realize that it might be the first time we’ve been truly alone in well, years.
My green eyes search her brown ones.
My heart races for an entirely different reason as we say a thousand words with a single look.
I’m wearing slacks and a blazer. When I got dressed in the locker room earlier, I was quick to resent the fact that I had to wear a suit to walk from the locker room to the hotel room, Coaches’ rules. Now? I’m thankful I’m not in my usual after-practice sweats.
I take a minute to really look at the woman standing in front of me. If I had paid closer attention earlier, maybe I would have put the pieces together sooner. She doesn’t look frazzled or in a panic. Actually, she looks the complete opposite. She’s fucking stunning.
She’s wearing a black, fitted t-shirt dress that hugs her every curve. The hem skims the top of her thighs and begs me to run my hand beneath it to explore what she’s wearing underneath. Her hair is combed out. I love it when she wears it that way. Gold sneakers adorn her feet. She looks young and full of sass that I haven’t seen in a long time. Suddenly, I’m reminded of how young we truly are, and the people that we were before life got so fucking hard.
The fear that was just eating me alive is suddenly replaced with a desire and a need that I typically don’t allow myself to feel.
“I’m sorry I missed the game. Late flight.” Her smile returns.
She pulls her plump bottom lip into her mouth and bites down on it with her teeth. The dark purple pigmentation of her lip turns pink beneath the added pressure. I want to lean in and run my tongue over it. I want to taste her. It’s been so long. I don’t even remember what she tastes like. That doesn’t mean I haven’t dreamt of that night more times than I can count.
I lift my thumb to her lip, and tug it free, running the pad of my thumb over her moistened skin.
We’re approaching a line, that once crossed, we will never come back from.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
It’s a fucking neon sign flashing in my brain.
“Click, I need you to be honest with me. Did you come to watch the game or are you here for something else?” I want so badly to come right out and ask her, but I tip-toe around it like a damn pansy.
Is she here for me? Am I crazy to even consider it?
Not for the game. Not for her photography. Not because she’s worried, I’ll have a confrontation with her brother. None of that, just me.
She takes one step into my space. My hand tightens around where I still hold her wrist.
