“And my bank account,” I add. “And my confidence.”
He nods, head hanging. “Fuck, baby?—”
“But it’s justonecontract,” I remind him before he can send himself down a spiral of guilt. “Does it suck? Yeah. But I have three other weddings booked in June. I have two corporate events next month. Between all the spam and Diane’s email wasa baby shower order from a repeat client and a few new inquiries that seemed legit.”
“Yeah?” His eyes search mine, water streaming down his face as he looks for doubt or insincerity.
“For the first time since I started this business, I’m not questioning whether I should be doing it. Because I already fucking did it,” I tell him. “Andyoumade me realize that.”
He kisses me, slow and sweet, like we have all the time in the world. Like we’re not standing in a shower that’s bound to go cold any second.
“Try not to start any more fights, though,” I tease when we come up for air. “Consider last night your get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Fair enough.” He huffs out a laugh. “Want to know what I did this morning?”
“Before or after reading my email?”
He ignores the jab. I suppose he doesn’t find it all that problematic, considering my penchant for snooping. “I bought five hundred blank keys.”
I pull back, searching his face, confused. I want to be supportive, but I’m not making the connection here. “Okay.”
He grins, a boyish, mischievous expression that makes my heart skip a beat. “I’m going to make tags for them that say ‘if lost, please call this number’ with Gigi’s number listed.”
For a beat, I stare at him. Then I laugh so hard I don’t know if the moisture on my face is water or tears.
“Shut up. You’re serious?”
He cocks a brow. “I don’t joke about revenge. I learned from the best.”
I thread my fingers through his wet hair, tilting his face down so I can see him. His eyes are soft, vulnerable in a way that makes my toes curl. “That’s so ridiculously devious. I love it.” I pause, smiling. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too.” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against my lips. Then another. “I love you so fucking much.”
I stand on my toes to kiss him once more. “Good. That means you won’t mind helping me wash my hair before we use up all the hot water.”
His laugh echoes off the tiles as he reaches for my shampoo, and I think that right here, with him, is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
cameron
A three-game suspensionis relatively mild, considering we play eighty-two games a season. But thank fucking God this is the last game I have to watch rather than play.
“Babe, you’re really ruining the vibes,” Kennedy says, tugging on the hem of my shirt. “Sit down.”
“Fucking bullshit call,” I shout to no one in particular.
She pulls harder. “Yeah, okay, sure, but you yelling that isn’t going to change the ref’s mind. He can’t exactly hear you.”
I sink down on the couch and angrily take a sip of my root beer. The carbonation burns going down, but I can’t show up to practice smelling like a distillery tomorrow, so soda it is.
The ref yells at Logan, who, like me, thinks his call was fucking dumb.
“That’s it, Log. Tell him he’s blind,” I mutter, leaning forward.
It’s a miracle that Logan isn’t in a permanent state of suspension. He’s a fucking loon, but I’ve got to hand it to him, he’s a really smart fucking loon. He toes the line between fairplay and penalties or infractions without ever actually crossing it.
Kennedy rests her hand on my thigh as she continues her conversation with Maya and Sophie. It’s a simple move, but it’s powerful. She’s ensuring that I know she’s here, even if she’d rather chat with her friends about a customer who didn’t know the difference between a macaron and a macaroon than pay attention to the game. She traces absent circles against my jeans with her thumb, grounding me when I want to throw my drink across the room. I won’t, because she’ll be mad if I stain her area rug—which is thankfully beige rather than pink—but that doesn’t mean I don’t briefly consider it.
