“I never got a tour.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It’s insane how easily Gareth and I fell into something that felt an awful lot like domestic bliss after those couple days spent at the ranch together. Like life stood still until this moment, then it was all speed ahead for us, but I fear I’m one orgasm away from becoming a trad wife, and that terrifies me.
I’ve never been a woman who dreams of marriage and babies, but I think that’s because I’ve never allowed myself to envision it with anyone other than Gareth. It’s always been him, and when I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want to think of a future with anyone else.
He makes me feel like I can haveeverything,though.
Time’s zipped by these last few days—lazy mornings spent in bed blending into hectic evenings. Hours slip past in a blur of sex-drunk happiness, and Gareth cooking shirtless in my kitchen. On days we’ve had to work, we fill the moments texting when we can and making plans for the second we can be back in each other’s arms. I’ve been to two more games, lucky that the Bears have had a streak of home games where I’ve gotten to watch him play, admiring how baseball is so ingrained within him, he can anticipate what’s going to happen before it does.
Tonight, though, the Bears are in New York, playing against the Crowns. The team flew out last night.
It was the first time I’d slept alone in days, and his absence was tangible. He left an empty space both between the sheets and somewhere deeper, locked inside my rib cage. I woke up more than once, half expecting to find him curled up against me, arm lazily draped across my waist, but his side of the bed was cold instead.
“Punk Princess!”
Rosie’s voice snaps me out of my spiral. Her stiletto boots clap sharply against the bar’s concrete floor as she saunters in my direction, looking like a biker’s wet dream in her skintight leather pants and white crop top. Her lips are painted cherry red, her hair half-up, half-down, intentionally messy and pulled back in a claw clip. She passes a coffee across the counter just as I yawn, both of us having come in early this morning to restock.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Her eyes glitter, far too wide-eyed and bushy-tailed for nine am.
“Hey,” I grumble, covering my mouth with the crook of my elbow as my word turns into a yawn. “What’s the plan for this morning?”
She hesitates for just a second—just long enough to raise suspicion before scrunching her nose, failing to suppress a smile. “Yeah…about that.” Reaching into her back pocket, she procures an envelope and extends to me.
“What’s this?” My stomach flips as I take it from her fingers.
Inside is a boarding pass.
I stare at it, then back at her, before looking down at it again, actually reading it this time. Ridgewood to LaGuardia. First class. Departure ten am.
The clock on the wall ticks, taunting me. It’s nine fifteen.
LaGuardia.
New York?
“What is this?” I repeat, my heart rate kicking up.
“Better call a rideshare,” Rosie singsongs, hoisting a bag onto the stool beside her. “Or I can have Cain drive you, but you’d have to hop on the back of the bike.”
My gaze shifts to the bag, realization clicking into place.
That’smybag.
The pieces of the puzzle shift into place. “I’m going to New York?”
Rosie grins. “Lover boy swung by last night on his way out of town. Packed you a bag and handed me your ticket, asked me to make sure you got to the airport in time. You’re going to New York, baby girl.”
“But I work tonight,” I argue weakly, excitement quickly taking the place of hesitation.
Rosie rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. “Good thing your boss already gave you the night off. And the rest of the weekend.” She smirks, then turns, heading back to her office. “Have fun in Manhattan. And say hi to Sly and Nixon for me if you guys cross paths! Miss having those two around.”
Manhattan.
I’ve always dreamed of visiting the East Coast and immersing myself in the wonder and chaos I’ve only ever seen in my favorite shows and movies—the feeling that only New York can give you from wandering through the crowded sidewalks and staring up at the skyscrapers.
Gareth isn’t just giving me this opportunity, he’s taken the initiative to plan every last detail to make sure I not only get to check off this bucket list item but experience it with him. He bought the ticket, packed my bag, and left everything with the one person he knew would make sure I made it to the airport in time.
