Page 157 of The Pact
“I got it,” she waves me off. “Go shower.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it won’t take long. They’re tired tonight.”
I just nod.
Presley stands, holds her hands out for Rhyan to take, and pulls her off the couch. “Set that on the coffee table, Rem. You can finish it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says and does as she asks.
Rhyan gives me a quick, sleepy hug and wanders up the stairs. Remy’s right behind her.
As soon as the kids are out of earshot, Presley turns to me. She looks nervous, and she’s twisting the hem of her sweater.
“Saint,” she asks, “can we talk after I get them settled and you’re done in the shower?”
My heart hits the floor. This is it. This is the conversation when she tells me she’s thought about it and can’t give me what I want. She’s going to tell me she’s going back to her apartment, that we’ll figure out a schedule with the kids, and go our separate ways.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice sounding rough. “I’ll come downstairs when I’m done.”
I follow her up the stairs, but turn to my room to shower.
I can’t lose her. I’ve played in front of millions, facing down some of the baddest motherfuckers in the league without blinking. But the thought of Presley walking out the door makes my knees weak. I spend my life winning by sheer force, but I can’t force her to fall in love with me.
Ten minutes later, I make my way downstairs and walk toward the family room to sit on the couch, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her in the kitchen.
The overhead lights are still off, but candles glow on the countertops. And in the center of the island is a tower. A layered fortress of Mint Oreos.
But as I get closer to her, it’s the music that gets me. From the Alexa on the counter, the opening chords of Garth Brooks’s “To Make You Feel My Love” begins to play. It’s playing low, but heavy with the kind of emotion I’ve been trying to bury for the past few weeks.
“What is all this?” I ask, voice gravely.
Presley looks beautiful, but raw.
“I don’t want to just say it,” she begins, and her voice has a nervous edge to it. “Because I know I’ve used words to hide behind for a long time, especiallybest friend. But I don’t want to be safe anymore, Saint.”
I move, making my way around the island to stand in front of her. As I get closer, I can see tears already shimmering in her eyes.
“I love you,” she says, and the world seems to stop spinning. “I don’t just love you like a best friend. I’m in love with you. Completely, devastatingly in love with you.”
I feel a hot sting in my own eyes. Now I’ve never been a man who cried easily, but since my sister died, I can’t seem to control myself like I used to, and hearing these words come out of her mouth feels like a blow to my chest.
“I can’t imagine my life without you,” she continues, her voice gathering strength, even as her tears fall. “I can’t imagine living without you or not hearing you laugh in the hallway. I love you in a bone-crushing way, Saint. In a way that makes it hard for me to breathe when you’re not in the room. You’re the only one I see next to me when I’m old and gray. You’re the only manI ever want to have babies with. I want a family with you. I want it all.”
God, please let this be real. I feel like I’m finally coming up for air. I want to pick her up and never let her feet touch the ground again. She wants babies. With me.
I can’t speak. My throat feels too tight, and my heart is beating so hard that I feel like I can hear it. I watch her, memorizing the way she looks in the candlelight, the way she’s offering me everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
But I don’t answer because I’m not sure I can find enough words for what I’m feeling. I take her hand and pull her flush against my chest. I start to sway, our bodies moving to the slow, steady rhythm of Garth’s voice.
We dance in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by mint Oreos and candlelight. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She’s shaking in my arms, her hands clutching the back of my shirt, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
“Saint?” she whispers after a minute, pulling back just enough to look at me, her face wet with tears. “Did you hear me? Can you say something, please?”
The song ends, the silence of the house rushing back in. I still don’t answer with words. I just reach down, grip her waist, and lift her onto the marble countertop so we’re eye to eye.
I brace my hands on either side of her, boxing her in.
