At the sound of her voice on the other end of the line, my heart settles a little.
“Hi, Ry. How are you?”
“Hi.” She chuckles. “I’m good. Just like I was when you called four hours ago.”
“Hm, you think I should call more often?” I slip out of the studio and head to the elevator. “Because I can.”
She sighs. “You’re giving stage-five clinger, and not in a good way.”
Laughter erupts from deep in my chest as I hit the button for the underground garage.
“It’s not funny, Hade.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I fight a grin. “Never thought being caring would make me a stage-five clinger. Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t offend me. I’ll wear it like a badge.”
“Unbelievable.” In the background, little voices sing, “Goodbye, Miss Riley!”
“Are you done for the day?”
“Yeah. I need a shower before the appointment. I’ve got glitter everywhere, including places it has no business being.”
Warmth spreads through my veins. “I’m intrigued, Ry baby.”
She huffs, but it’s good-natured. “Go to hell.”
“Nah, I’m going to your place. I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
“Wait downstairs.”
“Are you hiding something from me?” Frowning, I step out of the elevator. “Or someone?”
“See you, Hayden.” With that, the line goes dead.
I climb into the back seat and settle beside a bouquet of forget-me-nots and pearly white roses. “Thank you for picking these up,” I say to Wyatt.
“Anytime, sir.” He nods then focuses on the road.
I trace my fingers over the petals, reveling in the soft, velvety sensation. I bring Riley flowers every time I see her, and her reactions are what keep me going. I’ve been saving this particular combo for a special occasion, and today is it. We’re headed to her eighteen-week ultrasound.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe Iama stage-five clinger, but I don’t know how else to show her I’m not going anywhere. All because I’ve been focusing on actions ever since she told me “actions speak louder than words.”
I call her several times a day. We text all the time. She still won’t come to my place, but I’m happy to go to hers. It’s better, really, since I’m having renovations done and don’t want her to see them yet. We go for walks. I help her with grocery shopping. If I can, I pick her up from the studio.
Despite how careful we are, we’ve been photographed together a few times. Luckily, Glenn is on it, making sure the images don’t show Riley’s face. For now, she’s relatively at ease with how the media is covering our situation. She’s much less fidgety than she used to be when we’re in public.
Though we haven’t touched, other than a hand on her back to guide her or her fingers in mine as I help her out of the car, the vibes are still there, and once in a while, I even find her flirting back.
I count every instance as a little win.
Because I’m not going anywhere this time.
Nope.
She’s mine, and I’ll make sure I’m worthy of her.
Bouquet in hand, I adjust my hood, making sure it hides my face, and knock on her door.
When she opens it, my breath catches. She’s always beautiful, but I swear, she looks better every day. She has half her hair pulled up in a little bun on top of her head, the rest cascading over her shoulders. Her makeup makes her blue eyes pop, so the eye roll she gives me is honestly epic.
