Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Laughter rippled around me as everyone else introduced themselves, and I used my years working as a server to good use as I memorized their names and faces.
Finley asked how long I’d worked there. Marissa complimented my jersey. Rory scooted over to make room on the couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
No one asked how long Micah and I had been together, or whether I planned to stick around.
They asked about my sister. My job. My baking.
At some point, without quite realizing how it happened, I found myself laughing with them. Fitting in as though I belonged.
“Micah’s been smiling like an idiot for weeks,” Marissa murmured as the team warmed up on the field. “Raiden has known him practically forever, and he said this is the happiest he’s ever seen him. Because of you.”
“Really?” I whispered, loving the idea that I made him truly happy.
Rory nodded. “You’ve made him light up in a way I’ve never seen when he was with a woman.”
Marissa must have clocked something on my face because she leaned closer and whispered, “You know he’s not a player, right?”
I kept my expression neutral this time, but inside, everything went still. The last fear I hadn’t quite been able to shake reared its head. The worry that I was just another phase. A moment before the real thing. I’d heard rumors that he dated a lot, but in all the time we’d been together, I’d never felt his intense focus stray from me.
Ivy snorted softly. “That reputation’s the most misunderstood thing about him.”
“His short-lived attempts at finding the right woman are actually kind of legendary.” Marissa shook her head. “He doesn’t even bother with a first date if it’s not right. Every time.”
“The single guys still don’t get it,” Rory added. “How he wouldn’t settle. Not even a little.”
My fingers curled into the fabric of my jersey as I listened.
“He’s been teased for years about it. They started calling the women he talked to ‘Mrs. Right Now’ because no one even got invited to dinner,” Marissa explained. “He’s been looking for his forever person longer than most of us have been married. Raiden used to joke that Micah was waiting for lightning to strike.”
Ivy laughed. “And now it has, because he finally met you.”
Warmth spread through my chest, loosening something that had been clenched tight for far too long. For the first time since I’d fallen for him, the instinct to guard my heart quieted. I didn’t need to protect myself from loving Micah.
Loving him wasn’t reckless. It was safe.
The realization settled deep as the teams got ready to take the field. And I knew that no matter the outcome of this game, we’d both be winners tonight because I was finally going to tell Micah that I loved him.
My head was in the clouds as I watched the coin toss, grinning when I realized the Nighthawks losing and their opponent choosing to receive the kickoff meant that the first play I’d watch would be with Micah on the field. And he made all my worries worth it when he got the tackle that stopped the other team from making their third down.
I jumped up to cheer, and nausea hit me so suddenly I had to grip the edge of the counter beside the couch.
“Whoa,” Marissa murmured. “You okay?”
I nodded quickly, forcing a smile even as my stomach roiled again. “Yeah. I think I stood up too fast.”
That was only half a lie.
Rory was holding a plate piled high with finger foods. Mini sliders. Pretzel bites. Something cheesy and fried that normally would’ve been my weakness.
“Want something?” she offered cheerfully.
The smell hit me. Heat rushed up my neck, my mouth flooding as bile crept higher. I swallowed once. Then again. Hard this time, hoping to stop myself from puking.
“Oh,” Marissa breathed, her eyes widening. “Hey. Sit.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, even though my vision pulsed faintly at the edges. “I just need a second.”
Marissa was already moving, all gentle efficiency. She guided me back onto the couch and pressed a cool glass of ginger ale into my hand. “Sip. Small ones.”
I did, breathing carefully through my nose.
The nausea eased just enough that I didn’t embarrass myself in front of half the New York Nighthawks’ WAG circle.
Marissa watched me for another beat, then glanced down—and smiled knowingly as she reached out and patted her very round belly. “Don’t panic. That green look hits fast. At least you’re probably only dealing with one baby instead of two.”
I blinked.
She laughed softly. “Trust me. Twins are a whole lot harder to wrap your head around.”
The room faded out for a second as my brain kicked into overdrive.
My period was late.
Really late.
And I hadn’t even noticed because I’d been so darn busy.
But Micah and I hadn’t used condoms. Not once. It had never even crossed my mind to worry about what that meant for the long-term. The risks we were taking.