I stare at him, pushing his finger away. “Maverick. My apartment. My rent. My clients. My actual, real-life job.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I blink.
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll cover whatever needs covering. Your rent, your travel, your business expenses, I’ll book the flights?—”
I push back from the stool so hard it screeches across the floor.
“I’m not some damsel you can just throw money at!”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to!”
I storm down the hall and fly up the stairs; my bare feet smacking against the hardwood, as my flannel pajama bottoms swish with every furious step. Rex scuttles after me in a blur of bald vengeance. I slam the bedroom door shut behind us so hard the frame rattles.
Five seconds later, literally five, the knob turns and Maverick pushes in—Shirtless as usual, grinning with his signature goofy smile.
“Get out.” My voice is flat.
“Nope.”
“Maverick—”
“I’m not gonna fight with you, Amelia.” He leans his tall frame against the doorframe. “But I also won’t let you spiral alone in here while I’m trying to make this easier.”
I spin around, heat burning in my chest. “Oh, this is easier? Hijacking my schedule, uprooting my job, and suddenly expecting me to play NFL trophy wife like this isn’t the stupidest, most unhinged plan you’ve ever had?”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, and steps further into the room. “I’m coming with you to LA.”
The words freeze me mid-step.
I whip back toward him, my jaw slack. “You’re what?”
His mouth ticks up, like he’s proud of himself for casually detonating another bomb. “You heard me. You’ve got clients, a shop, a whole life there. You think I’m letting yourun back by yourself like none of this matters? Not a chance.”
I stare at him, heart pounding. Rex hisses at Maverick from underneath the bed. “You can’t just… drop everything. You’re supposed?—”
“Supposed to what?” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “Football can wait, and I’m not letting my wife travel back and forth alone. I took a vow to be your husband, and I’m not breaking that.”
The silence stretches, thick and pulsing. My throat feels raw, but I lift my chin anyway, refusing to let him see the crack in my armor. “You don’t get to fix this with one reckless promise.”
He pushes off the door, closing the distance in two quick strides, his shadow looming over me. His voice drops low, dangerous in a way that makes my pulse race.
“Baby,” he murmurs, “I don’t make promises I don’t plan on keeping.”
Two Days Later
The lock sticks,just like it always does when I’ve been away too long.
It takes a little force and a hip check, but then the door creaks open, and I step back into me.
Sort of.
It feels stuffy after being sealed for days. The cozy vanilla-vetiver scent I enjoy is faint now, buried beneath thesterility of stillness. A few plants are drooping, and Rex immediately bolts out of his carrier.
