I plate a few blossoms and slide them to her. She bites, eyes closing for half a second that does terrible things to my self-control. While the risotto relaxes on the heat, she spills it all—the lease she signed, the clinic opening, treatment rooms and a logo and a schedule that makes my head spin in the best way.
Her hands fly as she talks. “There’s so much to do. Paperwork, renovations, accounting, website, marketing.”
“What’s your timeline?”
“A bit less than six weeks. Crazy, but doable.”
Raising my eyebrows, I add lemon zest to the dish and set it down in front of her. “Jambalaya, Italian style.” She blinks up at me like I just dropped a five-course meal from the sky. “Eat.”
By the time she winds down, her cheeks are pink, her stare gleaming. I set down the knife, leaning on the counter. This woman—flushed and glowing, drowning in my shirt, talking about her dreams. Christ, I’ve never wanted anyone more.
I round the island, catch her wrist mid-gesture, pull her against my heart. “Breathe, baby.”She stops, takes a deep inhale. “I love it. High-end place, athletes first.” I brush hair off her cheek. “You’re brilliant. And devious.”
Her throat works, stare shining. “You really think so?”
“Yes.” I kiss her forehead, then guide her back onto the stool. “My mom called yesterday,” I say casually as I grab my own plate. “She’s pulling the whole circus to Fire Island for Christmas. Two days—the twenty-third, after our game, through the twenty-sixth. Ryan’s family’s staying at Dmitri’s place. She even had a boxing bag installed in my gym so Leo can train.” I pause, watching her reaction. “I want you there with me, Eden. “
Her fork stills midair. “Leo told me about it. But I can’t go.”
I arch a brow, settling across from her. “Why not?”
Her lips press tight. “Aside from the fact it’ll be painfully awkward with both our families there while we’re...whatever this is?” She shifts on the stool, and I can see her brain racing. “This is happening so fast, Nate. Part of me wants to slow down, but a bigger part never wants this feeling to end.” Her tone rushes out, “Plus, I’ve got less than six weeks to launch. If I don’t use the holidays to push ahead, I’ll lose momentum.”
I lean forward, elbows braced on the counter. “You can work there. And you’ll have help.” I catch her hand. “These past few weeks, having you back in my life...I don’t want to go back to pretending you don’t exist. Two days. That’s all I’m asking.”
“But what we just did,” she gestures vaguely toward the gym, “I never expected to feel this way with anyone. It scares me a little.”
“Good scared or bad scared?”
She shrugs her shoulders, shaking her head. “Leo…I think he’ll lose it when he finds out about us.”
I grin, sharp. “Yeah, he was always protective, wasn’t he? He’ll get on board. Let me worry about him.”
Her lips twitch. “You do know he’s the US heavyweight champion, right?”
I laugh, deep and certain. “All the more reason I need my PT with me over the holidays.”
Her stare narrows. “Come again?”
“Yeah.” I reach across the counter, hook a finger under her chin, make her meet my stare. “I need to train. And my PT is going to keep me in one piece while I’m there.” I pause, leaning in. “What do you think? Could you handle two days with me? You get your own room. Right across the hall from mine. We don’t need to make any announcements.”
She swallows, caught between bristling and melting. “Nate?—”
“Daytime, you’ll treat me and work on your business. Our parents will feed us, and you’ll let everyone help with the clinic.” My thumb drags over her bottom lip. “Nighttime, you’ll let me ruin you.”
Her face goes crimson. “I’ll think about it.”
I sit back, satisfied. She looks at me for a long moment, and I can see her weighing it. Two days of pretending in front of our families while sneaking into my bed at night. When she finally speaks, her tone is quiet. “This is really happening, isn’t it? Us.”
The vulnerability in her words makes my heart race. “Yeah, Trouble. It’s happening. We’re leaving Wednesday after the game. No need for a bathing suit. Fire Island’s freezing this time of year.”
31
FULL CIRCLE (EDEN)
How the hell did I let Nate Russo talk me into spending Christmas under one roof with both our families? This isn’t a romantic getaway. It’s a full-blown hostage situation with garlic bread.
Salt air clings to my skin as we turn down the narrow lane, the boardwalk chatter fading behind us. His house looms ahead, all glass and sleek lines. This isn’t the sun-faded beach shack from our childhood. He razed the old one to the ground and rebuilt it bigger, better, flashier.
