Chapter 40
EBBA
I scour through my clothes for something to wear to tonight’s dinner. Despite my numerous choices, nothing feels right. Annoyance stirs low in my belly. I hate when I get like this—overthinking everything to the point that I can’t even pick out clothes.
Grabbing my phone, I text Fisher.
Me: I have nothing to wear.
He responds almost seconds later, despite me not expecting him to.
Fisher: Did all your clothes grow legs and walk out of the hotel room?
Me: Well, no. But I’m just not vibing with any of them tonight. They’re too colorful. I want something softer. Like a light pink. Or an ivory.
Fisher: I’ll see what I can do.
Me: I don’t expect you to do anything. I just needed to complain.
Fisher: Like I said, I’ll see what I can do.
I press my lips together, shaking my head. This man.
I cross worrying about an outfit off my list and focus on doing my makeup.
I’ve been what most would call a girly girl since I was young.
Maybe it’s because my mom is a former model, but I’ve always been drawn to fashion and makeup.
I like making myself feel pretty. And it’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty without it, but I enjoy taking care of myself. There’s something therapeutic about it.
I’m finishing up with my hair, having let it down from the up-do I wore earlier today and styling my curly strands into something that more closely resembles waves, when the door to the hotel room buzzes and opens a second later.
I poke my head out of the bathroom and grin when I find Fisher with a garment bag.
“What did you find for me?” I reach eagerly for the bag, and he hands it over with a small smile.
“I think you’ll love it. I hope so at least.”
I hang up the garment bag and unzip it with a giddy pep in my step. My jaw drops at the dress.
It’s short, but not indecently so, in a silky ivory color. I take it off the hanger, nearly moaning at how luxurious the fabric feels. When I turn it around, I gasp at the plunging back.
“It’s beautiful. I couldn’t have picked something better myself.”
His eyes squint with happiness. “I’m happy you like it. I’m going to hop in the shower and get ready for dinner. Are you all done in the bathroom?”
“I am.” I lay the dress down on the bed, admiring it some more. It’s simple, but it’s stunning. I run my fingers over the fabric, marveling at the way it feels like water.
Fisher grabs a nice change of clothes and shuts himself away in the bathroom.
While Fisher is busy getting ready, I sort through my shoes I have with me and decide on a pair of sky-high black heels. I wore tennis shoes all day and brought my cane with me, so I think I can get away with them.
The shower cuts off, and I know it doesn’t take him long to be ready, so I pack up my clutch before slipping into the dress. It ties into a bow at the top of my shoulders, so I’ll need his help with that.
When he steps out of the bathroom, I have to stifle my groan at how damn good he looks.
His brown hair is already getting longer again, but I don’t mind it.
He’s changed into a navy-blue button down tucked into a pair of black pants.
I immediately want to get him naked. But I know I can’t.
Not just because we’re strapped for time, but because I don’t want to mess with his feelings until I know, truly know, that this is what I want.
Even if the idea of leaving him steals the very air from my lungs, there’s still a part of me filled with fear.
“You look good,” I say when I finally find my voice.
He looks me up and down, eyes hungry. “Not as good as you.”
I turn around and brush my hair over my shoulder. “I need your help with the bow. I can’t do it myself.”
The warm press of his body is firm behind mine.
His fingers work deftly to secure the bow.
He takes extra time straightening out the actual bow part and making sure the ends of it hang evenly.
It’s such a simple thing, it barely takes him any extra time to perfect it, but it’s the fact that he knows I care about the little details and takes care of it before I even ask.
When he’s finished, he steps back and I instantly miss the heat of his body.
Clearing his throat, he points around me. “I need to get my glasses.”
“Oh. I’ll grab them for you.”
I swipe them off the bed table and hurry back to him. He reaches for them, but I shake my head. “No, let me.”
I slip the glasses on, and he peers at me over the top as I do.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly. Heat rushes up from my neck to my cheeks. “And not just on the outside. You have the most magnificent soul of anyone I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
“I don’t know about that.”
He leans further into the doorway and the gesture brings him slightly closer to my height. “Trust me, you do.”
We stare at each other for a long moment.
It’s intense, like it always is with us, but it’s not uncomfortable.
My heart beats just a little faster as I mentally will him to kiss me, despite knowing deep down he won’t make that move.
Not anymore. I have to. But I can’t seem to get up the confidence to do it right now.
That’s when his phone rings.
He sighs, pulling it out of his pocket. With the spell broken I grab up my clutch from where I tossed it on the bed when I was getting his glasses.
“Yeah, we’re heading down now. Is there room for us? Yeah, okay just wait and we’ll be right there.”
He hangs up and says, “They’re waiting downstairs in a car. There’s enough space for us to go too and not get a separate car. Are you ready?”
Nodding, I grab my cane. “I’m ready.”
When we finally make it downstairs and to the car, we find Sabrina and Noah already celebrating with glasses of champagne.
“Hey! There’s the greatest coach ever!” Noah pours another glass and hands it to Fisher.
Rolling his eyes, Fisher says, “I’m sure the other coaches would disagree with that.”
“Well, none of them are also my best friend so you get the honor.”
“I love this dress,” Sabrina says as I join her in the back row of the SUV. “Do you want some champagne?”
“Thanks.” I tug on the short hem to attempt to cover more of my thighs. “Fisher picked it. And yes, please, I would love some champagne.”
She pours a glass and hands it over as the driver pulls away from the hotel. “He has good taste.”
Fisher, of course, hears this and turns around with a pleased smirk.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I tease.
“Too late,” he responds, turning back to Noah to carry on their conversation.
“Where’s Maddie?” I ask, noting the absence of Noah’s daughter.
“She wanted to stay in tonight, so your parents actually offered to hang out with her.”
“Oh, that was nice of them.” I need to ask my parents to get breakfast or just to hang out soon. I haven’t exactly been avoiding them, but I also haven’t been going out of my way to see them outside of my brother’s matches.
When we pull up outside the restaurant, the guys get out first and help us. Fisher keeps a hold on my hand and doesn’t let go until we reach the table and he pulls my chair out for me.
“Thanks,” I say as he scoots me in.
“Elias and Whimsy should be here shortly,” Noah says after checking his phone. He slides it back into his pocket before he takes his seat. “Fashionably late as per usual. This is why he can’t win Grand Slams.”
I roll my eyes at Noah’s antics. “He’s beat you at a Grand Slam.”
He chuckles, picking up the menu. “Semantics.”
By the time my brother and Whimsy arrive, we’ve already ordered a bottle of wine and some small bites.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Whimsy says, smoothing the back of her icy blue dress before she sits. “We got distracted.”
My brother wears a shit-eating grin, and something tells me I know exactly what that distraction was. Ugh. Ew.
“Congrats on the win, man.” Elias claps his hand against Noah’s and bends down to give him a hug.
“Thanks.” Noah grins.
I might always root for my brother over Noah, but it is nice to see him win a Grand Slam. Mostly because it means Fisher wins in a way.
My knee brushes Fisher’s beneath the table and he looks my way with a raised brow.
“Accident,” I mouth, and he nods.
His glasses slide down as he looks over the menu, and he reaches up and adjusts them slightly. The gesture is practically second nature for him.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he says softly. “Like what you see?”
My cheeks warm at the teasing tone in his voice. “Maybe.”
“Hmm,” he hums, and turns to face me fully. He cocks his head to the side, assessing me. “You’ve got a thing for my glasses, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I defend.
He chuckles lightly. “It’s okay. It can be our little secret that my glasses get you hot and bothered.”
I want to sink beneath the table in embarrassment. He reads me all too easily.
“They’re just glasses,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean they’re not turning you on.”
A cleared throat has me turning with mortification to find our friends and my brother staring at us, along with the waitress. Forget beneath the table, I want the Earth to swallow me whole.
Noah’s lips curl with amusement. “Are you guys going to order or just talk about how apparently glasses are a turn on for Ebba?”
Elias shudders. “I wish I didn’t know that.”
I pick up my menu and scan it quickly, picking out a steak meal. Fisher orders the same thing.
When the waitress has left, my brother says, “I don’t understand you two.”
Fisher takes a sip of wine. “What is it you don’t get?”