“I like how comfortable you are here.” I nod at the shirt and the glass in her hand.
She glances down at herself, tugging the hem a little lower like she’s suddenly self-conscious. “It was either this or nothing,” she quips lightly.
I would’ve preferred nothing.
“How long have you been up?”
She hesitates, her gaze falling back to her phone to look at the time. “A few hours.”
My jaw tightens. “You could’ve woken me.”
“With how loudly you were snoring? Absolutely not.” She snorts, lifting her glass for another sip.
“I donotsnore.”
She gives me a look over the rim of her glass. “Mmhmm.”
I huff and shift closer, sliding an arm around her waist. Before she can react, I pull her sideways and into my lap. She yelps softly, struggling not to lose control of the contents of her glass.
“You are such a little brat,” I whisper, pressing my mouth to the side of her neck. I run my lips along the length of it, leaving a tender trail of kisses in their wake. “What have you been doing?” I pepper the words against her skin.
She stiffens, just slightly, before pulling back just enough to look at me as she drops her phone into her lap. “I haven’t seen my dad in over six months. So I booked tickets.”
My brows draw together. “Tickets?” I repeat. “As in plural?”
Her mouth curves into a small, mischievous smile. “I am moving to Chicago and into the apartment of a man I met very recently,” she states flatly before repeating with emphasis, “Veryrecently. He’s going to want to meet you. We leave next weekend for a little overnight trip.”
Meeting her dad…
Dads have never liked me. In high school, I’m pretty sure they all had a club, because I was on the shit list long before I met most of them. I’ve only met a few in my adult years—most relationships never going that kind of distance—but it was never what I would call a fun experience.
“I will be on my best behavior.”
Leaning her forehead against my chest, she playfully teases, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The screen is still on, and curiosity gets the better of me; I shift her phone slightly. The brightness dimmed makes it hard to see, but I recognize the website immediately.
Chicago Medical Center.
“Blake, you don’t have to?—”
“Work?” she cuts in, already defensive, and launches into a rant before I can get another word in. “I’m not about to be barefoot and pregnant at home in the kitchen, Jagger. I want to be here with you, but if you think for one second I’m giving up my career to play house?—”
I place a finger gently on her lips. “I was going to say,” I interrupt softly, “I know how much you enjoy the work you do.” She blinks, caught off guard. “Caring for people where they need it most. If humanitarian projects on the other side of the world are what you want, you don’t have to give that up for me. Hawk and Reese make it work. So could we.”
Her eyes soften immediately, and she firmly presses her lips to mine. The kiss is slow and deliberate, pouring her gratitude into it.
“God,” she whispers against my lips when she pulls back slightly. “Seriously, is there anything wrong with you?”
“I leave the seat up sometimes.” I chuckle softly. “And there is also that whole adrenaline-junkie thing.”
“Yeah…” Her expression sobers, and her voice falls softer. “After everything with Maryam, it just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if I could do it anymore without feeling like I had to look over my shoulder.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight against me, pressing her face into my neck. “You don’t have to put yourself in a place that feels unsafe ever again,” I state firmly. She exhales shakily, her fingers curling into my skin. “Find a job here. But you don’t have to rush. Take your time and find something that really makes you happy.”
“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispers.
I smile into her hair. “Me neither.”
