Page 134 of On Her Team
“Of course, I love them. I’m legally and morally obligated to love my brother and sisters.”
“You are full of shit. You miss them.”
I do miss them. But I’ll be seeing them soon. I check the clock. I want Gage to open his surprise before they come.
“Tick tock. Do you want to open your present or not?”
I offer him the card. He rips it open. His brow wrinkles as he reads the card.
“An address change? Why is my present an address change from you?”
“Read my new address.”
I bite my lip as he reads the card. He’d better be happy with his present. After all the whining and complaining over the past month.
His gaze meets mine. Those chocolate brown eyes I love to gaze into when he sinks into me twinkle with delight. “You’re moving in here?”
My nose scrunches. “Not exactly.”
“But the card says your new address is here in my apartment.”
“First of all, this isn’t an apartment. It’s a penthouse.” It’s crazy big and luxurious. I thought I’d hate it, but after I got used to how opulent it is, I liked it. The oversized standing tub in the bathroom doesn’t hurt either.
“And secondly, I’m not moving in. I’ve moved in.”
“Moved in? How?”
“I might have had a little help from Nolan, Tanner, Brock, and Corbin.”
“Those assholes. They didn’t tell me.”
I pinch his side. “They weren’t supposed to. It’s a surprise.”
“You seriously moved in here? You’re living with me? No more living in your apartment across town?”
I scowl. “You act as if my apartment is in another state. It’s not that far.”
It is that far. I still haven’t gotten used to driving in the city, so I usually take the bus. I need an hour to make it to Gage’s place from mine. And if it’s late at night? Gage won’t let me go home. I am not riding the bus late at night, according to him.
Gage lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. I pound on his back. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you toourbedroom to celebrate you moving in.”
“We’re supposed to be celebrating your birthday.”
He pats my ass. “We can do both at the same time. Or we can celebrate all night long.”
“Don’t you have to be in bed by nine?”
I’m not joking. The big, strong football player has a bedtime of nine. Apparently, athletes need their sleep and they are serious about getting it.
“It’s my birthday. I’ll make an exception.”
He carries me toward the staircase leading to his – er, our – bedroom. But the doorbell rings before he reaches it. He keeps walking.
I tap on his shoulder. “Doorbell, Gage.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
