Rematch (The Reed Brothers Book 22)

20. Seth

Gabby lays with her head in my lap, where I can look down into her brown eyes. I brush her hair back from her forehead.

“Tell me one thing that’s on your mom’s list of ways to make someone fall in love with you,” she says, her voice quiet.

“Nuh-uh,” I grunt. “It’s a secret.”

She nudges me with her elbow on my side. “Tell me one. Just one.” She holds up one finger, so I bring it to my mouth and bite it playfully.

“Okay,” I say, pretending to think about it. “I’m just giving you one, though, because I can’t give you all my secret weapons, okay?”

She nods, a silly smile playing around her mouth.

“You are so fucking pretty,” I blurt out.

She snorts. “I don’t have makeup on, and my hair is a mess.”

Her hair is a mess from where I’ve been running my hands through it all through the movie we just finished.

“And yet you’re still the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen,” I admit.

“Was flattery on the list?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, that’s not on the list.”

She nudges me with her elbow again. “So tell me one thing. Just one.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “One thing on the list was making a full life for myself.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, confusion marring her brow.

“It means that my mom believed confident men are men who are successful, driven, busy, and fulfilled. She said that women find that sexy.”

She sits up, still close to me but no longer draped across my lap. “She’s right.” She blows out a raspberry between her lips. “I do think it’s ridiculously sexy that you have plans for your life. That you get good grades and that you have a future mapped out in your head. Not going to lie, it gets me hot.” She snickers. “Tell me one more,” she pleads, her hands in front of her like she’s praying. “Pretty please,” she adds at the last minute.

“Nope. You said one. I gave you one.”

She flounces back onto the couch so that her legs fall over my lap.

“Okay, fine,” I acquiesce playfully. “One more.”

She squeals like she just found a puppy under the Christmas tree. “Just one,” she says. She pedals her feet on my lap with excitement.

“Give her room to be as successful as I want to be,” I tell her. Then I stop and wait for her reaction.

She sits up on her elbows. “Huh?”

I repeat it. “Give her room to be as successful as I want to be myself. I think it means that I need to give her room to build her life up as big as she wants it to be without being jealous over her time, her affection, or her ambitions.”

She flops back onto the couch again and stares at the ceiling. “Huh,” she says with a grunt.

I nudge her legs. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that your mom was a pretty smart lady.”

I laugh. “You doubted it?”

She giggles. “No, I never did.” She waits for a beat. “So that one means that you should take a step back and let someone become the person they want to be without being a drain on their time, energy, or emotions.”

I shrug. “Yes, I’m assuming that’s what it means.”

“Are there things you want to do that wouldn’t include me?” she asks.

“Nothing I can think of right now, no.”

“But what if we end up getting residencies on different sides of the country? What happens then?”

“Then we each build up our lives without having the other in our back pocket, I guess, and we come back together as often as possible.” I decide to take a chance. “There was one thing on her list that we can do now.”

“What was it?” she asks.

“She said to create random moments of intimacy. Often.”

“What does that mean?”

I shove her feet off my lap and stand up. “Come on,” I say. “I’ll show you. I’m making this up as I go along, so try not to be too disappointed,” I admit.