Chapter Thirty-Two #2
I laughed because in spite of the loss in my life, I still had the very best people. “He’s the one, Mom.”
I never told her about our almost pregnancy or our sporadic reckless behavior since then that left me in a constant state of wondering am I? That secret stayed between us, okay, and Penny, but she didn’t count. Penny was my free psychiatrist, so we had an unspoken doctor-patient confidentiality.
“They play Green Bay this weekend at home.”
“I’ll be in L.A. I’ll be gone for a total of ten days.”
“How does Cage feel about that?”
I took a bite of my waffle and mumbled over my mouthful, “He thinks we should both be unemployed and just stay in bed naked all day.”
“Damn! You’re giving me a hot flash.”
I giggled. Only Felicity Jones, part-time nudist, would say that to her daughter.
“I’m kidding … I think. I mean … he has actually said those words, but he loves the game and I love the opportunities I’ve been given in my own life.
I think we both feel this obligation to make the most of the lives we’ve been given.
But it sucks too. I miss him all the time. ”
“It’s a blink, baby. He won’t play football forever, and this fame you have with Thad will not last forever either. Just don’t forget why you’re both doing it. Don’t lose what you have together. When the spotlight no longer shines, you don’t want to be standing alone.”
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, Lake. Call me when you get to New York so I won’t worry.”
I laughed. “You’ll always worry.”
“Less. I’ll worry less.”
“So damn depressing.”
I smiled as the voice I loved most sounded behind me, even though I could feel the frown on his beautiful face. Staring at the large suitcase on the bed, overflowing with clothes and shoes for the East to West Coast temperature swing, I had to agree with him.
“Our jobs suck.”
“They do.”
The hair on my arms stood erect as I felt him just a breath behind me. I turned, drinking in the sight of my handsome man in a Minnesota T-shirt and jeans.
“We should quit.”
He pulled me into his arms that seemed to be bigger, firmer, and sexier every time he enveloped me in them. “You can’t quit.”
Fisting his shirt, I buried my nose into his chest and inhaled my favorite aroma: freshly-showered Cage. I couldn’t even pinpoint what I was smelling. All I knew was it was the headiest aphrodisiac ever. “And you can?”
His mouth wasted no time devouring my neck.
“Yes …” His teeth came next and my whole body shivered.
“I just play catch for a living.” His hands slid down and palmed my ass, pulling me as close as possible to his body.
“You’re changing the world. You’re inspiring.
You’re a fucking hero to every disabled person out there. ”
“I’m not …” My words came out as nothing more than little puffs of air.
“Well you sure as fuck rock my world.”
I laughed. “Say we just do it. We both quit. Then what do we do? It would have to be something so cool like …” I shook my head. “I’ve got nothing.”
He chuckled, lifting me up, spinning around, and plopping down on the bed with me hugged to his chest. “You could probably get a job in PR, getting professional athletes’ faces on boxes of generic crispy rice cereal.”
“Smart ass.” I bit his lower lip and gave it a firm tug then sat up, straddling him.
“Well, I know what I’d do.” He laced his hands behind his head.
“Teach?” That was his degree from Nebraska.
His lips twisted. “Hmm … that would seem like the obvious choice, but no. I’d get my Master’s in Lake Jones.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Lake Jones?”
“Yes. Through close observation, experimentation…” he wiggled his brows “…and thorough research, I’d completely figure you out. It might take years, a lifetime even, but I think it’s what I’m best suited to do.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. Tell me what you’ve already discovered.”
“I’ve discovered tons of peculiar habits of yours.
I just need to figure out why you do what you do, like …
the way you draw random designs on the glass door when you shower, or the way you chew one and a half pieces of cinnamon gum like one is not enough but two is too much, or why you put chocolate hazelnut butter on your waffles then spoon out every single indentation with your finger before eating the waffle.
Why don’t you just eat a spoonful of the spread then eat the waffle on its own? ”
I started to speak.
“Shh …” He shook his head. “Those were rhetorical questions. I don’t want you to tell me. That would take away the fun of figuring it out on my own. Some things I think I’ve already figured out, but I’m not one hundred percent.”
“Such as?”
“The way you touch me.”
I wiggled my hips over his, attempting to accompany it with a sexy smirk.
Cage chuckled. “That’s not the touch I’m talking about, but don’t stop.”
Frowning, I stopped.
He took my right hand and pressed it to his chest. “You touch me like this.” Moving my hand to his shoulder he smiled.
“And like this … and everywhere else—all the time. When we’re in my truck you play with my hair and I fucking love it.
When we eat you always sit next to me, even when we get a booth you sit next to me and rest your hand on my leg.
At night some part of your body is always in contact with mine, and you do so instinctively.
Originally, I thought it was just an intimate gesture, but it’s not that.
Sometimes I don’t even think you realize your body is searching for mine. ” He shrugged. “I think I ground you.”
Could he read my blank stare too? “Maybe I’m just claiming you in front of the women waiting for you to ditch me.”
“Are there people, these women you speak of, in our bedroom watching us sleep at night?”
Did he hear his own words? Our bedroom? Without a doubt Cage grounded me, and maybe that’s why I did it. Honestly? I didn’t realize I did it. Maybe I subconsciously needed the constant reminder that he was a real, tangible part of my life.
“Is this really our bedroom?”
“Trzy thinks so.”
I looked over at my feline slut licking herself at the top of her cat tower in the corner. “I feel guilty paying for my apartment when I’m not there.”
“Then let it go when your lease is up.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. We’re already living together. You’re going to have my babies. It’s only a matter of time before you take my last name, so … yeah. Just like that.”
My body fought for neutral, no reaction, but it was impossible. I felt my brows raise all on their own, like they just didn’t give a damn that my brain screamed, “Don’t react!”
“I’m taking your last name?”
“Unless you want to keep Jones. I’m good with whatever you decide.”
“Uh … are you proposing to me?”
“Sure.”
How could one guy be my greatest dream and worst nightmare?
“Sure? That … that’s it?”
“I’m not following.”
Aliens robbed the man of my dreams. How? When? Who was this imposter?
Climbing off him, I shoved the top down on my suitcase and yanked on the zipper. It was full, too full. He sat up and pressed his hand to the top, releasing the tension so I could zip it.
“You’re mad.”
“Stop.” I shook my head. “Remember, we’re not the ‘you’re mad’ couple.”
“Then just say it.” He smirked.
It was the first time I hated his stupid dimples. “I despise clichés, I really do. And I love how we make no sense and perfect sense at the same time. I even love having no damn clue if I’m pregnant or not. It makes me feel so … alive. But …” I shook my head.
“But?”
“But ‘sure’ ? Really? You flew to China to kiss me. Let me say that again. You. Flew. To. China. To. Kiss. Me!”
“You want to get married in China?”
“Gah!” I threw my hands up, turned, and stomped into the bathroom. “I need to shower and get to bed. I have an early flight.”
“Early? Like what? Eight?” He chuckled.
I slammed the door. My flight was at nine, but screw him for making fun of me.