“I love you, too.”
Chapter 32
Guy
“I can’t believe you’ve been keeping up with me all this time,”Kitty said, shaking her head as she shoved her last bite of sushi in her mouth.
“I’ve been so proud of you,” I said, dividing the dregs of our bottle of sake between our cups. “You’ve done everything you wanted to do.”
“You have, too,” she said, looking at me and glowing. “I’m sorry I don’t always keep up with your games. I do check the scores and see if you scored. You almost always get a point somewhere. Sorry about the playoffs last year, though.”
She texted me a congrats every time I’d gotten a hat trick, and a few days later, a hat showed up at my door without fail. Even when I stopped talking to her, she pushed on. What she didn’t know was that in my head, every single goal, every assist, every achievement was for her.
“That’s what they pay me the big bucks for,” I deflected.
“I’m curious. Why did you pick now to check in with me?” Kitty’s eyes were stunning in the candlelight.
How much was I willing to give away? Go for honesty, or hide my true feelings? In my desperation to keep her when we were young, I don’t think I told her about not being able to be traded until I was twenty-seven. Should I tell her I was finally eligible to be traded, or would that get her hopes up too much?
“I, uh, read you weren’t with Sanders anymore,” I started. “And your standup has been more single-focused, so I thought I might have a chance. We’re a little older now, so I thought I might be able to convince you to do long distance again until I can figure out something else.”
Kitty nodded, her chest heaving with a breath as she looked around the table. She picked up a piece of ginger with her chopsticks, almost dropping it.
I snorted a small laugh. “You always were shit with chopsticks, Birdy.”
“Shut up,” she said, flinging condensation from her water glass at me.
“I swear to God, Birdy, I brought you to a nice restaurant and you still can’t behave.”
“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it later,” she said, a spark in her eyes.
“Oh, am I? Or are you? You know what happens when you’re bad,” I said breezily, stroking one fingertip over her knee under the table. “I’ve missed doing that with you, too.”
Kitty drew in a shaky breath. “I understand you’ve had plenty of candidates to distract you in that regard.”
“Don’t you slut shame me, Birdy. And besides, nobody holds a candle to you,” I said, watching her face flush pink.
“You’re just saying that. I’m sure you have girls lubing up their feet for you if that’s what you want.”
“I’m not just saying that. You’re the blueprint, the one I compare everybody to. And you know I’m not a foot guy.”
Kitty and I shared a tense glance, the kind that used to end with my mouth on her neck and her nails raking down my back. She took on a slight smirk.
“Ankles, though,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She was kidding, but one of my favorite old ways to get her fired up was to nibble at her ankles, then work my way up her leg with my mouth. She has the best legs. One of the reasons I loved her Netflix special so much was that I got to see her legs for an entire hour. I remembered what they felt like in my hands, wrapped around my waist.
“Always an ankle guy,” I agreed with a grin.
Outside the restaurant, Kitty stood in front of me, holding both of my hands. The night was hot, the late summer air not cooling much in the evenings. My stomach was a snake pit of nerves. I knew what I wanted to do next, but I wanted to tread lightly.
“Thanks for taking me to dinner,” she said sweetly. “And for coming to my show. And to New York, seemingly for me?”
“All for you,ma puce.” It had been so long since I kissed her thatI almost felt like I needed to ask permission. We were strangers in some ways. But when I put my hand on her waist and she stepped in, grabbing my bicep, I knew I was good to go. My other hand went to her neck, using my thumb to lift her face to mine. That always used to make her melt.
Just before I dropped my lips to hers, she spoke. “Is this going to be a mistake?”
“If so, it’s a mistake I’m willing to make. Are you?”
Kitty’s face lit up with what I’d call her signature devious look. Then with her hand on my neck, she pulled me down to her.
