“Astrid designed and made them herself,” Ma explains, coming up beside me.
I turn to look at my girlfriend. “You really made those?”
She nods, smiling sheepishly. “I got the idea the day you showed me that FIFA ball. Your dad and I bought the wood for the shelves a few weeks ago, and I’ve been working on them on the down-low in our garage when you weren’t around.”
“I can’t believe you did that.” My voice sounds strangled because I’m currently wrestling with a whole tsunami of emotions. That she did this for me just blows my mind. My eyes lower to the desk, almost bugging out when I lift the white framed photo of me from the game earlier. “How on earth did you manage this?”
Astrid shrugs, a familiar rosy hue staining her cheeks. “Renee was updating me the whole time during the match, and when she sent that pic, I knew it was perfect for the frame, so I raced downtown and got it printed.”
“I helped Astrid paint this,” Erin says, pointing to the space beside my desk. In the middle of the wall is a black-and-white hand-painted drawing of the back of a football jersey with the number 9 and HUNT on it. Three footballs float in a circle on either side of the jersey.
I swallow thickly over the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Do you like it?” Worry creases Astrid’s brow as she stares at me with a hand placed on her chest.
“I fucking love it. It’s amazing.” Tears stab the backs of my eyes. “Thank you.” I can almost see the relief bleed from Astrid’s pores. I look at my parents. “Thank you so much.”
“I’m so pleased you love it.” Ma hugs me briefly. “I’ve been second-guessing myself all day, wondering if we should’ve told you instead of just springing it on you.”
“It was a great surprise.”
I drag my sister over, tucking her under my arm. “You did great, Pixie. I love the jersey painting.” I ruffle her hair, and she scowls, ripping herself away from me. I turn to face Astrid. “You are so talented, and I can’t believe you designed all this. It’s perfect.”
You’re perfect.I think it, but I don’t say it. Not eager to pour my heart out with an audience. I brush my lips against hers. “Thank you, beautiful.”
“I’m really happy you like it,” she says, beaming at me.
I want to pull her into my arms and kiss the hell out of her, but it’ll have to wait.
27
ASTRID
Nerves fire at me when I hear the familiar rap at my window just after midnight. We were late getting back from dinner, and then I had to wait until everyone was asleep before I messaged Callan to say the coast was clear. For a moment, I entertained the idea of wearing the red lace underwear Gwen bought me under my PJs like she suggested, but it’s not me. I tried it on, and it made me feel uncomfortable, so it’s back in its hiding place, possibly to never see the light of day.
Butterflies swoop into my chest as I climb off my bed, watching Callan swing through the window. It never fails to make my heart swoon. He’s like a real-life Romeo, and I desperately wish I were his Juliet.
“Come here, you,” he whispers as he removes his gloves, unzips his jacket, and toes off his sneakers.
My heart is careening around my chest as I pad toward him. Callan reaches out, reeling me into his strong arms. A shiver whips through me when he buries his face in my neck. “You’re so warm and soft and perfect,” he whispers, moving my silky pajama top to one side so he can press a kiss to my shoulder. My legs almost buckle at the feel of his velvety lips on my skin.
“I missed you,” I softly say, closing my eyes and savoring the sensations he’s coaxing from my pliable body.
“Ditto, beautiful.” He peppers kisses along my shoulder and up my neck. “That was one hell of a surprise to come home to.”
“You’re sure you like it?”
He straightens up, peering deep into my eyes. “I love it, Astrid. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.” Emotion pours from his face, and he’s not shielding anything now. He’s looking at me like I’m his everything, and excitement replaces the blood flowing through my veins.
“You deserve the best, and I wanted to make your space comfortable and relaxing.”
“I don’t deserve you.” He presses a firm kiss to my lips before moving us back toward my bed. “You’re incredible.” He dots kisses across my brow, my cheeks, and my jaw while he keeps walking. I fall back on the bed with Callan hovering over me, propped up by his hands on either side of me. “And you deserve a reward.” His eyes darken with liquid need, and my core throbs with a similar ache.
“What kind of reward?” My voice is unintentionally breathy.
“Do you trust me?”
“Completely.”
