“We just saw our baby, Jason. If it wasn’t real before …”
“I know. We’ve got ourselves a little plum in there, veering into kiwi territory.” I’d memorized the fruit comparisons chart for fetus sizes.
She rolled in her lips. “I think you’ve done more research than me.”
I pulled up outside her building. The joy I’d felt at seeing my kid on that monitor was starting to fade, evicted by a growing dread.
“I’ll walk you up.”
“Oh, okay.”
At her front door, she turned to me. My heart clattered wildly in my chest. Tomorrow, she was leaving for Boston, and while I would see her a couple of times when my playing schedule took me there, the mere fact of her absence from my everyday life felt all wrong. We had just witnessed something miraculous—the life we’d created, the heartbeat of our child—and there was no going back to before. I wanted to see her and my kid all the time and walk this journey together.
Suddenly I had no words. Me, Jason Isner, who could talk the hind legs off a herd of mules, was tongue-tied. All my nervous energy had been expended, and now a cloud of sadness had rushed in to take its place.
She placed her hands on my chest. “Thanks for coming with me. It meant a lot.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” I placed my hands over hers, trapping them against my pecs. “All packed?”
“Mostly.” She smiled. “I’m going to miss my special lunches.”
She didn’t know yet, but I’d be taking care of her nutritional needs in Bean Town. The last thing I needed was for the doc to get distracted by some snails banging and not get her recommended daily calorie intake.
“I’m going to miss your snark,” I said.
“Oh, I can still provide. Text. Video call.”
“Telegram. Carrier pigeon.”
“It’s not far. And not for long.” She stepped back, setting space between us. “Take care and keep winning, Jason.”
I would. But it sure would be easier, knowing she was safe. That they were both safe. Time to activate my network of spies.
But there was one more thing I needed to do. I stepped back into her space, cupped her fine-boned jaw, and inclined my head. Her gray-blue eyes turned silver as I stamped my mouth over hers, claiming what was mine.
For a split second, she made no reaction. But then she moaned, right into my mouth, and I deepened the kiss, telling her everything I couldn’t say with words.
This means something, Francesca. We are bonded forever.
Then I broke away before she could.
She touched her lips. Her eyes were on fire, her cheeks flushed. “What was that for?”
“Just a little something to keep you warm in Boston.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Congratulations, Isner, you left your woman speechless.
Turning heel—kind of pissy about it, too—she headed inside. I waited a moment for … I wasn’t sure what. The gods to change her mind?
This was Francesca St. James we were talking about. She was the captain of her own ship, and I was merely a deckhand.
One week later …
“Where’s your buddy, then?”
I looked down into suspicious green eyes as they quickly adjusted and attended to the main event: getting fed. Bunsen was kind of dainty but once that bowl of food made an appearance, he turned as savage as his ancestors.
Beaker, when he deigned to show his cute orange face, alternated between scared silly and a hurricane making landfall. When he wasn’t hiding out under the sofa, he’d taken to settling behind the screen guard in the empty fireplace.
