“Maybe you need to stop thinking so low about yourself and see the woman I see.” He pushes a stray hair behind my ear and traces his fingers down my neck. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You’re so fucking kind and sweet. You’re passionate, and even though it will still take me time to accept what happened between us, I know, deep in my fucking bones, that you’re the most selfless person I know.”
A sob escapes me.
“I love you, babe, and nothing is ever going to change that.”
“But . . . you didn’t answer my text message.”
“Phone died last night. Didn’t charge it. I was kind of too busy fucking you to remember. I came straight from training to here, because I have an important question to ask you.”
“You do?”
He nods, the corner of his lips peeking up in the sexiest of ways. He hands me the flowers that I clutch to my chest, letting the floral fragrance ease my nervous heart.
“Emory Ealson”—he takes my hand in his—“after over eight years of knowing your beautiful self, I’m going to ask you one more time, and I really hope you don’t say no.” He takes a deep breath, connects his beautiful eyes with mine, and asks, “Will you go to lunch with me?”
The most unladylike snort shoots out of me right before I cover my mouth. This is really happening. He’s kneeling in front of me, confessing his love, bringing our entire relationship full circle, and I couldn’t love him more for it.
I reach out and caress his face, still in shock that he’s here, wanting me again. “But, Knox, you lost the bet last night. Which means . . . you owe me a steak dinner in one hell of a revealing outfit.”
His smiles grows wider. “How about this? You go to lunch with me right now, and this weekend, after our afternoon game, I take you out for steak, and then for dessert I eat that delicious pussy of yours.”
Can’t argue with that.
I lean forward and press a chaste kiss across his lips. “Deal.”
I pace my living room unable to stand still. The girls left an hour ago after I filled them in on everything, and I mean everything. Their questions were very specific, and I had no problem answering them because after this morning, I wanted them to fully be on Team Knox.
And they are.
They couldn’t be happier for us.
I called my mom when I got out of work and told her everything. She screamed for a good five minutes and then broke down into sobs, thanking the good Lord for bringing us back together. She was always a huge Knox fan, especially after seeing what he did to pull me out of my Neil funk.
Now, I wait.
The Bobcats won. Four to two, and Knox was incredible, making a few diving plays, one into the stands, and hitting three singles across the field. It was amazing watching him again. I always felt like he was an art form on the diamond, a perfect example of what a baseball player should look like and play like. Seeing him execute his moves so simply, after all the hard work he put in, it was a huge turn-on.
Its why I’m thrumming with excitement, pacing back and forth, waiting for him to come to my apartment.
From outside, a car beeps, stilling my pacing. I run to the window where I catch a glimpse of Knox walking to the back door.
He’s here.
I scan my clothing one last time, a simple nighttime romper with nothing underneath it. Check my hair, cute and styled—I might have taken a shower and made myself more presentable after work. And pop my lips, making sure my Chapstick is still fresh.
Pleased with how I look, I run over to the door and fling it open, just in time for Knox to be at the front. His smile consumes me, and I can’t help myself as I leap into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me with ease and works his hands up my back, a chuckle on his tongue.
Hands gripping my ass, he walks into the apartment and slams the door with his foot, only to spin me around and plaster me against the wood. His lips find mine with greedy hunger, and his fingers dig into the flesh of my butt, sliding beneath the shorts of my romper. Although I’m not comfortable with the weight I’ve put on, his love of my body—his desire for my body—is helping. Just as he helped my broken heart all those years ago.
Groaning, he pulls away and observes my outfit. My nipples are puckered and poking against the fabric of my romper. There is no disguising how turned on I am. “Are you wearing anything under this?”
I shake my head. “No. Thought you’d want easy access.”
“Fuck, babe, you know me so well.”
I reach in for another kiss but when he pulls me away and sets me on my feet, I’m thoroughly confused.
“We need to talk.”
And just like that, my heart plummets to the floor. Those four words are a death sentence to every relationship. Nothing good comes from “we need to talk.”
“About what?” I ask, feeling almost stupid for being so excited that he was here.
He takes my hands and leads me to the couch where we sit. Still holding my hand, he links his fingers with mine and when he stares at me, I see unmistakable adoration. I realize I’m not about to experience heartache, but I’m about to embark on a journey.
“I love you, Em, more than anything, but we have some hurt feelings between us. Some things were said, some misunderstandings, years of neglect to our friendship.”
“Yeah, I know.” I lower my head but he tilts my chin up high.
“We could rehash it,” he continues. “We could pivot around in circles until we’re blue in the face, but I don’t want to do that. I want to build off what we have and make this into something more. I know what you did in college was selfless, wanting me to focus on baseball, I get that completely now, and it’s one of the many reasons why I love you so much. But I want you to listen to me when I say, my life is a thousand times better with you in it. However I can take you. Over the last few years when our communication started to dwindle, something deep within me was missing, and when I saw you for the first time in the library, that something resurfaced. Anger overshadowed it for a second, but once that blew away, I realized, it’s you I want, you I need.”
Beyond the point of an emotional basket case, I attempt to blink back the tears, but it’s no use. They fall, but he catches them on his thumbs.
“I want to move past the hurt and the pain, and I want to focus on the good with you. The fun, the jokes, the teasing . . . the passion. I want all of it.” He swipes another tear. “Do you want that, Em?”
I nod, not giving a second to consider. “I want nothing more.”
The corner of his lips curve as he reaches into his pocket. “Perfect, I was hoping you were going to say that because I have something for you.” From his pocket, he pulls out a flashy, silver object and hands it over.
I take it out of his palm and look at the medallion. “What’s this? A keychain?”
He chuckles and rubs his thumb over my furrowed brow. “Sort of. It’s a key to my apartment. I want you to move in with me.”
“Wait?” I look at the circular object. “How is this a key?”
“It’s magnetic, fancy shit.” He takes my hand in his. “Did you hear me? I want you to move in.”
Yeah, I heard him, and I’m trying not to jump out of my skin in excitement. But just to be sure, I say, “You don’t think it’s too early?”