Chapter Twenty #2
I hadn’t gone on social media much lately. Other than looking at Foster’s Instagram, I hadn’t done much exploring. Maybe I should. Or maybe it was best to take his advice. Whatever I found would probably make me mad.
“Do you want to retire?” I asked.
“Maybe.” His gaze drifted to the table as he stared unblinking at the rim of his water glass. He’d stopped drinking wine this week. “I need a reason to fight. That’s always been the case.”
“Not just for the sake of winning?”
“It’s not enough. Not for me. In the beginning, I fought to prove myself. To Arlo mostly. To my parents. And then, after it all fell apart, I fought because it would keep Vivienne and Kadence safe. Provide them a life. Now that Arlo and his shackles are gone, it feels . . . different.”
The pained expression on his face was like a punch to the ribs.
Loss. Regret. An athlete looking back at his career and realizing it was coming to an end.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He gave me a sad smile. “Don’t be. At the moment, you’re my motivation.”
“That’s why you want me to come.”
“I need you there. I need to see your smile when it’s over, win or lose. But mostly, if this is the end, the last fight, then I want to win it for you.”
“You’ll win.”
“Even if I don’t, I won the fight that matters.”
“Your title fight?”
He shook his head. “You. You are the biggest fight of my life.”
Oh, how I loved him.
I was endlessly in love with Foster Madden.
So why couldn’t I say it?
Since I couldn’t form the words, I just held his hand tighter. “You won. You know that, right? You won.”
Foster’s entire body sagged, like he’d been waiting to hear those words.
There was no way I could walk away, not now. There was no way I’d be able to let him go.
He lifted my hand, pulling it farther across the table, forcing me to stretch as he brought my knuckles to his lips. That was it, just a kiss.
But I saw the love in his eyes.
I hoped he could see it in mine.
The waitress arrived with our food, setting it in front of us. Salmon and rice for Foster. Pasta carbonara for me.
“About Vivienne,” I said, needing to talk about what had happened earlier. “I’m not trying to make it hard on her.”
“I know that. She does too.”
“When will she move here?”
“The original plan was this summer. After the wedding. She wants to sell Angel’s and the house.
But these trips back and forth are getting old.
She hasn’t mentioned it, but I’m thinking she’ll bump up the timeline.
That said, she’s going to run into the same problem that I have with this real estate market. ”
“Then I guess you’d better stop house hunting. Save the good homes for her.”
His fork fell from his grip, clattering to his plate. “What are you saying?”
What I’d wanted to say earlier this week but had hesitated to. Why hadn’t I asked them to move in when we’d talked about it over Kadence’s laundry? Why could I do it now?
Maybe Vivienne’s visit, maybe that envy, had spurred me on. Now I could say that I shared his address too.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I said. “I like coming home to you at night. I like waking up with you in my bed.”
“You tell me this now? In public? When I can’t show you what it means to me?”
My cheeks flushed. “You already had your dessert.”
“There will be seconds.” His voice dipped to a gravelly rumble. “You sure about this? Living together?”
Yes. No. This was all happening so fast, but at the same time, it felt natural. Like this was always meant to be.
My parents would probably have a few words of caution, Dad especially. My brothers would hover and my sisters would invade personal boundaries.
“Well, hello.” Eloise chose that moment to slide into the booth at my side.
“Um, hi. What are you doing here? I thought you had the night off.”
“She’s with me.” Lyla took the empty space beside Foster, giving me a blank stare.
I mirrored the look and took a drink.
“You two need to stop fighting.” Eloise rolled her eyes.
“We’re not fighting,” Lyla and I said in unison.
Yeah, we were fighting.
“I figured you would be at the high school basketball game,” I said.
“It was a blowout,” said Eloise. “We were up by thirty points at halftime, so we decided to come over for a bottle of wine and some food.”
Foster moved over in the booth, making more room for Lyla. “Join us.”
“We’re on a date,” I argued.
He ignored me. “Want some wine? I’m not drinking and Talia won’t finish this bottle alone.”
I pursed my lips in a thin line, but arguing was pointless. So I shifted toward the wall to make space.
“We don’t have to stay,” Eloise said. “We’ll just see you tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Foster asked.
Lyla and Eloise shared a look before they stood.
My stomach dropped. That was the look of an invasion. “Not tomorrow,” I blurted. “Kadence has been with her mom all week and I don’t want a bunch of people over on her first night back.” It was a flimsy excuse but I prayed it worked.
“Oh, good point.” Eloise frowned. Phew. “Then next weekend.”
“No—” Before I could finish my objection, she and Lyla strode toward the empty table the waitress had set for them across the room. Damn.
“What was that about?” Foster asked.
I grabbed the bottle of wine to refill my glass because I’d most definitely be drinking it. “The bubble.”
“What bubble?”
“Our bubble. It’s about to burst.”