I pick up my fork and chat with my family about the baby and about the banquet I’m planning and about what Miranda has been up to and about Mom’s shifting social life now that she’s cut out Abby Nora’s family too.
But inside, I’m having a minor freak-out.
I like Holt.
I know he likes me.
But what if it’s not enough?
What happens then?
And now that Holt’s off the crutches, how soon isthencoming?
I sneak a subtle peek at my phone under the table, wanting a quick message, or even to read our last messages, just to reassure myself, but my phone doesn’t turn on.
Dammit.
Because the battery died because I forgot to charge it last night after doing the dishes with Holt.
But this is okay.
It’s all okay.
I’ll be home soon, and I’ll see him soon, and everything will be okay.
31
Holt
What’sthat feeling when the woman you’re falling hard for is due back any minute, but your teammates have invaded your house for an impromptu party to celebrate you being off crutches, and if they see your team’s owner’s daughter walk through your front door, you’re fucked?
Right.
Panic.
That’s what I’m feeling right now.
Ziggy hasn’t answered any of my texts, to the point that I went and hid in the bathroom to make sure I wasn’t accidentally texting someone else.
It’s too early in our relationship to use a location app so we always know where the other is.
And that’s stalkerish. Right?
But in a bad way?
It would be good to know when she’s done with brunch.
And what happened at brunch.
Sounded like she was in danger of running into Abby Nora.
I hope she’s not upset somewhere.
“What the fuck?” Porter crows in my living room. “That wasn’t offside! Are you shitting me?”
“Was too, my dude,” Tatum says to him.
A half dozen guys are crowded in my living room, all of us watching the local women’s soccer team. Nice that they’re broadcast. Sucks that the guys didn’t think—or couldn’t afford—to get ticketsatthe match for us to celebrate me being off crutches.
