She didn’t know I loved her back then. Shit, I wasn’t even sure if I knew it then.
Things were different now and making this walk to her building’s security desk carried a weight no previous trip held.
We didn’t have the luxury of having sex and then brushing it off. We wouldn’t have the luxury of going three months without talking or seeing each other. From now until eternity, we’d be tied together. Somehow, we had to figure out a way to make it work when we were so far apart. Both spatially, logistically, and I assumed—emotionally, because I still had no idea where we went from here.
“Mr. Dubiak,” the security guard manning the desk called as he recognized me.
“Marco.” I dipped my chin and shook his hand. He was a Chicago Storm fan, a single dad who’d worked two jobs to put his three kids through college. The last time I saw him two years ago, he’d shown me pictures of his first grandchild, a newborn girl with a red and white bow in her hair and a Chicago Storm jersey on. I’d signed it for him—the jersey, before he gave it to his daughter—not the baby or the picture. “How’s it going? Any more babies?”
“No. But Patrice is engaged. Getting married next summer.”
Talking to him was a blast. He was a damn good man, and I admired how hard he worked, how kind he was. Out of all the guards I’d met here over the years, he’d always been my favorite. Probably because he treated everyone like he’d treat his kids.
Every time he told me about his kids, every time a teammate got married, I couldn’t help but think I want that. The family. The noise to come home to after a long road trip.
Tonight, it seemed so close and so far out of my grasp, my head spun.
“Is Lizzie home?” I asked, tapping my hands on the counter. “I just got done with a game and thought I’d swing by and surprise her.”
“She’s in. Came home an hour ago. How’s the new team? Looking good out there tonight, even if I didn’t want you to win.” He pointed to a small television set behind the counter that was now showing Philadelphia playing in Montreal.
“Can’t help I go from a great team to the best.” I shrugged and gave him my signature smile.
Marco threw his head back and laughed, teasing me about how Vegas was going to make me soft to the cold weather.
We’d ended up with the win, sweeping the series. Somehow, I’d been able to shove Lizzie into the recesses of my mind for this game. It wasn’t my best game, allowing three goals, but fortunately, we’d scored five. Afterward, when the team lined up and punched gloves, my old friends asked me to come get a drink with them.
It’d killed to tell them I couldn’t. That I had other plans. More than one had asked about Lizzie with a smirk twisting their lips.
If they only knew.
While I could usually shoot the shit with Marco for a while, tonight I was anxious.
“Mind if I head up?”
“I gotta call her and let her know.”
I figured. At least this way I was already in the building and she couldn’t run. I probably should have shown her the respect of a phone call, but given her recent track record, I wasn’t too certain she’d answer the phone so soon.
“Sounds good.”
He picked up the phone at his desk while I headed toward the elevators and hit the button to Lizzie’s floor.
Unlike her, I didn’t have a speech planned. I didn’t have apologies. I scrubbed a hand through my hair. What in the hell am I doing? What did I want from this?
There was no way we could clear the air over the last few months, hell, the last year and a half when our friendship had separated due to a miscommunication on both our parts. But I couldn’t let more time pass either without us planning the next steps.
Before I knew it, the elevator doors were opening and I found myself gaping at her as she stood in the entrance to her apartment. Her back held the door open, she had her bottom lip between her teeth. She wore no makeup and her hair looked like a family of squirrels had taken up residence on the top of her head. She wore a long, atrocious looking white robe that was tied at her waist and her eyes were half open.
Shit.
“Did I wake you up?” It wasn’t quite ten on a Thursday. I hadn’t considered she’d be sleeping.
“I had a dinner after work, and I sleep a lot these days.” To prove it, she brought her hand to her mouth and yawned. “But it’s okay. I’m glad you’re here. Come on in.”
I towered over her and she was no slouch in height. But for a guy who was six-four, not having to get a crick in my neck every time I looked down at a woman or bent to kiss her had always thrilled me about her. Tonight, looking so tired and worn out, blinking up at me with sleep and hope in her eyes, I realized I only had two questions for her.
Can we do this together?
And did she love me too?
5
Lizzie
There were two things I learned about pregnancy before I truly believed I was pregnant and bought a copy of What To Expect When You’re Expecting. One, puking all day sucked. Two, pregnancy makes you tired. Like zombie tired. Like, barely make it through the day without three naps and still fall asleep at eight o’clock tired. Having a limited caffeine intake didn’t help.
Tonight I’d had a work dinner. I sipped a hot ginger tea while trying to hide my yawns so I didn’t appear disrespectful to our out-of-town clients. The effort it took to be on had zapped all my energy. I’d barely made it home, stripped out of my clothes and thrown on sweats before I crashed face-first on my couch, a book in my hand.
When the phone rang with the doorman’s alert tone, I figured it’d be my parents. They stopped by frequently with food for me, knowing I was too tired to cook. And after I called my mom last night crying, I didn’t doubt at all she’d want to see me.
My parents loved me, still treated me like I was sixteen but somehow managed to love me as an adult that didn’t overstep boundaries at the same time.
When Marco told me Garrett was here to see me, and was on his way up, I’d barely had time to throw on a robe. He’d seen me in all manner of dress from the ritziest dresses to the most casual clothes to nothing at all, but him seeing me in a T-shirt of his I stole from him a few years ago that I still slept in would have been humiliating on a whole other level given where we currently stood.
Which was on the most rocky, unstable ground we’d ever been on.
It also shouldn’t have surprised me he’d come. We’d been friends for years. I knew the kind of guy he was. I knew how badly he wanted a family and to be there for his kids. Granted, I’d expected a phone call in a few days, not him showing up after a game trailing his suitcase behind him—
Wait.
Suitcase?
I arched my brows as he wheeled it into my apartment and the door shut behind us.
“Before you ask or say anything,” he said, kicking off his shoes. “I talked to my coach and told him I had some personal issues to deal with here. Our travel planner changed my flight so I don’t have to be back until Saturday. I want to spend the weekend with you, talking, figuring out how we’re going to do this, handle everything, what you want from me. I can go to a hotel if you want me to, but I’d really like to stay in one of your guest rooms.”