“You would tell me if this”—Gemma twirls her hand to indicate to the three of us—“is aChallengerssituation, right?”
Kennedy throws her head back, laughing. “Oh my God, Gem.”
“What? It’s a valid question.” Gemma stumbles as she attempts to slide into the booth, and Matt catches her.
“All right,” he says. “Time for my wife to call it a night.”
Gemma playfully swats him. “I’m fine. It’s these stupid shoes.”
“Uh-huh,” Matt placates her. “We’ve got to relieve the babysitter anyway. Finley, you ready?”
A boulder of disappointment settles deep in my gut. I don’t want to leave Zach, but my mind goes blank when I try to think of an excuse that won’t raise suspicions. Especially not after that stupid comment from Gemma.
“I’ll make sure she gets home,” Deandra says, winking at me when Matt turns to me.
“You want to stay?” he asks me.
It’s such a simple question, but for us, whose relationship has been mired by mistrust and resentment, it’s significant. I nod.
“All right. If you need anything, call me, okay?”
“I will,” I agree.
Matt gathers Gemma into his arms, and she curls into him, all fight leaving her body.
I wait until they disappear out the front door before saying, “Thank you, Deandra. Seriously.”
She snatches her wristlet off the table. “Don’t mention it. I’m heading out to rest up for tomorrow. Y’all good to get home?”
“I will be as soon as I find someone to come with me,” Jennings replies with a panty-dropping smirk. My sympathy to all the men in this bar who have to compete with him tonight.
“We’ll be fine,” I assure Deandra.
“Give me your phone,” she says, holding out a hand. She sends herself a text message. “Now you have my number. If you need anything, call.”
Zach leans into me, his head resting on my shoulder. I look around the room, but no one is watching us. Kennedy sits in Alexei’s lap, kissing him. A couple of the other Wolves players stand by the bar, entertaining a large group of presumable fans.
I let myself have this.
“What Deandra said earlier…” Zach starts, his voice low, half-muffled by my shoulder. “About you being my girlfriend?”
“She won’t say anything.”
“I’m not worried about that.” His head pops up, and his eyes lock with mine. “I want everyone to know. Iwantyou to be my girlfriend. It’s just… are you?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, my lips stretching into a teasing smile. “I’ve never been asked.”
“Come with me.” Zach straightens, tugging me out of the booth and guiding me to the exit, his hand on my lower back. I ask him where we’re going, but he can’t hear me over a group of guys on stage shouting “Mr. Brightside.” He fumbles for the keys in his pocket, unlocks his car, then hands them to me.
“You want to leave?”
He opens the passenger door. “I want to talk to you alone.”
My heartbeat pounds faster as I walk to the other side of the car and climb into the driver’s seat.
Zach faces me.
I bite my lip. “Is everything okay?”
