When we finally come up for air, he’s not smiling like I am. In fact?—
“Uh, why are you frowning?” I ask.
“I was thinking about how you said if I asked you where the line was one more time.” He shakes his head, still holding me close, but more carefully now. “I should never have told you that was your job,” he says. “I should’ve drawn the lines with you. In fact, I should’ve made it so undeniably clear that I’m in love with you—and that I’m never letting you disappear on me—that the lines never mattered in the first place.”
Emotion catches in my chest. “Lucas, your job was at stake. Your entire career.”
“So was yours. And Jake’s.”
I’m so thankful that he cares enough to want to understand, my eyes prick with tears I don’t shed. “Thank you for understanding,” I say simply. I don’t need to go into some lecture about the mental load of women who care for everyone and everything.
All I need is to know someone else cares, too.
“It doesn’t matter where I play,” he says with such honesty that I believe him. “Every athlete knows the game could be takenfrom them tomorrow. I can handle it. I can’t handle losing you, though.”
“Because you love me,” I say, aware that I sound almost smug, but I can’t help it. Maybe Iamsmug.
“Yup.” He kisses one of my hands.
“Good. Because I love you, too.”
His grin breaks open, and he pulls me into a huge, tight hug that makes me feel so safe, so seen, I know without a doubt that I’ll never tire of it. He kisses my head over and over.
“Okay, okay,” I laugh. “You’re sweaty.”
“I ran the stairs, like, five times looking for you,” he says into my hair. “You’re lucky I didn’t pass out in the stairwell.”
“What?”
“Yeah, the elevators were too slow,” he says, his chin on my head. “I checked the gym, and back to your room. The dining room. Back up. The roof deck?—”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “You seriously searched the entire hotel for me?”
“Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I echo, like that’s the most normal thing in the world.
And somehow I know that if I’m lucky enough to get a lifetime with Lucas—it will be.
***
After a great deal of making out, we remember that my parents are probably still waiting outside the conference room.
As soon as we come out, hand in hand, Mom grins. Her eyes are shiny again. Dad’s arms are crossed, but his expression is warm.
Lucas straightens, but he puts an arm around me as he reaches out a hand.
“Sir, I’m Lucas Fischer. I’m in love with your daughter.”
“I caught that,” he says, studying him like a scout assessing a draft prospect. Then he takes Lucas’s hand and shakes it once. “You made a mess of it, though, did you?”
Lucas glances at me, then back at Dad. “Looks that way, sir. I’m sorry.”
He smiles. “We’re a messy family. You’ll fit right in.”
Mom chuckles and sniffs loudly beside him.
“Well,” she says, wiping her eyes and looking at the coffee cart still inside the conference room. “If that cart is any indication, you certainly know our daughter.”
