Chapter 29
twenty-nine
. . .
Al
After the game, I’m whistling while I shower and change.
Mitchell throws a wet towel at me, but I don’t care.
Two goals and an assist. I couldn’t do it without my wife and kid in the crowd.
Tonight, I’m going to order dinner in, light some candles, and seduce my wife.
After the absolute fucking torture of spending the last two nights sleeping fully clothed in my bed, I’m hoping she’ll be open to taking things a step further.
The guys and I reach the suite, and I beeline for Riley.
The sight of her in my jersey makes my heart thump and my cock twitch.
Adrenaline from the game still floods through my system, and it takes everything in me not to stalk across the room and claim her as mine like a caveman in front of everyone.
As it is, I bite my lip so I don’t groan in front of half my teammates.
She turns away from her conversation with Bex and spots me, and a grin spreads over her face. Her eyes are bright as she drinks me in, frank appreciation in her gaze. My stomach clenches.
Desire coursing through my veins, I step right up beside her. I’m not sure who moves first, but the next thing I know she’s in my arms, her face buried in my chest. I breathe in her lavender shampoo, the comforting scent soothing my racing heart.
After a few moments, she pulls away, but she doesn’t go far. Riley rises onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips over mine in a sweet kiss. It’s not nearly enough. I’m addicted to the taste of her, to the soft press of her mouth to mine, to her breathy sighs.
“Hi,” she whispers.
My hand finds the nape of her neck, tugging her closer to me. “Hi,” I whisper back, before I kiss her again.
This one is decidedly less sweet. I scrape my teeth along her bottom lip, which parts on a gasp. Wasting no time, I slip my tongue into her mouth, hers coming out to tangle with mine. I thread my fingers through her hair, kissing the breath out of her.
A wolf whistle pierces the air.
“Get it, Gonzo,” Mitchell calls out.
“Get a room,” Logan counters.
When I pull away, Riley’s face is flushed red, her chest heaving. Her dark lipstick is smudged, and I trace my finger beneath her lip, rubbing away the berry color.
“Hi,” I say again, giddy with butterflies.
She laughs. “We’re not starting this again.” Emmy is settled in her stroller, playing with her feet. We skipped the booties this time in favor of footsie pajamas, which she seems to hate less. My girl still rebels against most clothes. I guess she really does take after me; I was a naked baby, too.
I reach into the stroller to tickle her belly, and she grins and babbles at me. My heart warms. My two girls, right where I want them to be.
Riley slips her hand into mine. “Let’s go home.”
Home. That sounds perfect.
We wind through the arena to the parking garage. An attendant has already brought my car around, the heat cranked. I help Riley into her seat and then get Emmy settled in the back.
We chat about the game, casual conversation punctuated by baby shrieks and giggles. My skin feels too tight for my body, like I’m about to burst with happiness.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Riley says.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Don’t change clothes.”
My eyebrows lift. Usually, the first thing I do when I get home is put on something more comfortable than a suit and tie.
“Okay…”
“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”
Once we get to the house, we settle Emmy in her high chair with a mashed avocado and some scrambled eggs. I snag Riley around the waist and pull her into me.
“Have I mentioned how much I like you in my jersey?” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my gaze pinging between her eyes and her lips.
“You do? I had no idea,” she teases.
Growling, I dip my head to kiss her again. Her hands fist in my shirt, tugging me closer.
But then the doorbell rings, and I groan as I pull away.
“If it’s a salesman, I’m going to be pissed.”
She shoots me a grin over her shoulder as she flounces to the door, opening it to reveal—
“Brigitte?” I stare at the blond woman I haven’t talked to in at least a year. Maybe longer. “What are you doing here?”
She waves awkwardly. “Congrats on the kid.”
“We’re going out,” Riley announces. “Brigitte is staying with Emmy while we have a date night.”
My chest warms with affection for her. She’s been so resistant to using a babysitter, even my sister. And she went out of her way to arrange this—a night out just for us.
“Come in, come in,” I say, beckoning Brigitte inside. “You can meet our daughter.”
“I’m going to run upstairs and get ready,” my wife says, patting me on the chest as she passes by.
Since I have no idea what Riley has in mind for the night, I run through the same spiel I gave Cari. Brigitte takes care of Larsson’s kid, who’s about the same age, plus she’s in medical school, so I have every confidence she knows what she’s doing. Still…
“We’ve never left her with anyone before. Anyone who isn’t family,” I add quickly.
“It’s good for you two to get out, for her to see you prioritizing yourselves,” she says. “Go. Have fun. Enjoy your night out. I’ve got this, and if anything should happen, I have your phone numbers.”
Relief flows through me with my slow exhale. “Thank you for this. I know you and I…”
She shakes her head. “It was a blind date, and it wasn’t a good match,” she says simply.
“It’s a long story, but we weren’t together back then. I don’t want you to think I was running around on her. That’s not who I am.”
Our coffee date was only a few weeks after Carter and I were together, ages before Riley and Emmy came onto the scene.
“I didn’t think that at all,” Brigitte assures me. “What matters is that you are happy. Are you?”
“Happy? Yes.”
“That’s all that’s important,” she says, and that’s that. “Now, the little angel and I will have a good time this evening, and she’ll be tucked into her crib before we know it.”
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and I turn around to see the most incredible vision.
Riley is wearing a short black lacy dress with a floral print, sheer black stockings, and tall black boots with what can only be described as “fuck me” heels.
Her hair and makeup are done, amping her pretty features up to a ten.
She’s wearing the necklace I got her, the amethyst shining in the hollow of her throat.
My mouth goes dry, and my cock pulses behind my suit pants. My wife is fucking hot.
She stares up at me, her bright blue eyes lined with dark makeup. The longer I go without speaking, the more her face falls, and her confident mask slips.
“You don’t like it?” Her voice is quiet. Small.
That kicks my brain back online. I reach for her waist, pulling her into me. She comes easily, her hand settling on my chest, directly over my heart. Can she hear it beating overdrive, just for her? Can she feel my hard cock pressed into her belly?
“You look beautiful,” I tell her, before I press my lips to hers. Her breath hitches.
Mindful of our audience, I pull back, squeezing her waist. “Come on. What do we have planned for tonight?”
“It’s a surprise.” She grins at me, and then as she turns to Emmy, happily playing with her food, her face falls again. “This won’t traumatize her, right? We aren’t abandoning her?”
“We’ll be back in a few hours,” I promise.
Riley takes a deep breath, then bends down, pressing a kiss to Emmy’s forehead, and I follow suit.
“Okay, let’s go before I change my mind,” she says.
Itching to get my wife alone, I open the hall closet and pull out her coat, holding it open for her. Riley smiles up at me, nerves plain to see.
“It’ll be okay.” Taking her hand in mine, I squeeze her reassuringly before leading her to the door. I help her into the car, and she types an address into the GPS. “You won’t tell me where we’re going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
The drive is relatively quick, all things considered. As much as I want to reach over and set my hand on her leg, the light snowfall means I’m forced to keep both hands on the wheel.
We arrive at a steakhouse in the Seaport. There’s usually a wait list a month long, so I’m surprised when we walk in and are seated at a table right away.
“How did you manage this?” I ask, glancing around the packed dining room.
“I might have pulled a few strings,” she says with a shy smile. “Turns out mentioning my husband plays with the Grizzlies opens quite a few doors.”
Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Good. I’m glad.”
She’s not trying to ride my coattails. She’s not taking advantage of me. All she wants is to treat me to nice things.
I can live with that.
When the waiter comes, we order a bottle of wine.
Conversation flows easily. We talk about where we grew up, how she was bounced around from foster home to foster home.
I tell her about my siblings, my parents in Florida, taking care of my abuela.
I wish I could spend more time with them, but I know Boston isn’t the right place for them.
She tells me about her and Carter, how they stuck together throughout their early adulthood. The one thing she doesn’t mention is me and Carter together. I don’t blame her. I don’t want to think about it. Nor do I want to remember a time when I was with anyone else.
Riley’s my present. She’s my future. The past isn’t important; we’ve grown from there.
The food is good. The wine is fine. But there’s something missing. I don’t need fancy dinners. I don’t need this. All I want is Riley, to spend time with her, to enjoy her company.
But maybe she needs this. An outlet outside of our kid, a chance to get dressed up and feel like a grown-up. I leave the house every day for work. She doesn’t get the same opportunity.
Maybe now that she’s taken the first step of getting a babysitter for a night out, she’ll be open to having some more help so she has time to herself, too, before she burns out.
Her happiness is my priority. I don’t want to do this without her, and I’ll do what it takes to prove how much I value her—as a coparent, and as a partner.