“Hornball.”
“Okay, kettle.”
I laugh, but not for long. Not when he lingers with his mouth near my jaw and inhales deeply, like he’s memorizing the scent of me.
“I have to go.”God, the utter despair in his voice.
I feel it too.
Once we go our separate ways, will it ever feel the same as it has this weekend?
Is this the end of the magic?
I grip his hair one more time and kiss him hard. “Go kick some baseball ass.”
“As if I’d do anything less.”
He grins at me one more time like it doesn’t hurt for him to pull away and climb out of the door that Kiva opens for him.
Cameras flash.
“Cooper! Cooper, over here! Did you move in with Waverly? Are you leaving baseball? Are you getting traded to LA? Is that Waverly in the car? Waverly! Waverly, here!”
Kiva slams the door, and Scott One pulls away from the curb, leaving Cooper and Kiva behind with the sharks.
“But—” I say.
He meets my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror, and I sigh and fall back in my seat.
This is how it goes.
Kiva will get Cooper through the paparazzi and security, then she’ll meet us at the private hangar where my pilot is waiting with my jet, and all will be normal.
But doesCooperknow that?
Will Cooper be okay?
He’s a grown-up. He’s strong. He deals with the media all the time.
But not like this.
And as I’m staring at the crowd in the rear window, for once, I want to wade in.
I want to be there to make sure he’s okay and not overwhelmed and that they’re not messing with his head before he has to get back on his game for the second half of the season.
“He’ll be fine,” Scott One says.
“But—”
“If he’s not…”
Then he’s not cut out to be in your life.
So those are my options.
Make above-average-but-not-A-List guys deal with insane press coverage, or break up with them.
Or walk away from all of the mess, a voice whispers.
