“Oh—I—Oh my god.” I finally drop my hand, scrambling closer to the computer screen to read the email, but my eyes start to blur when I get to the first line and see the wordcongratulations. “I got in.”
“Obviously.” Miller bites at my throat. “Can I start calling you doctor?”
“No.” I snort, wiping away tears.
He grins against my skin. “Can we play doctor, then? What if I get hurt during spring training? I’ll need you to patch me up.”
“Unfortunately, I think the only thing I’ll ever be qualified to do is patch you up with consolidants.”
“That’s alright. Think you already did all the fixing I need.” He pulls his mouth away from my neck when I drop back against the couch, turning to look up at him, and his thumbs sweep across the pillows of my cheeks, catching all the tears. And I think I might hear some in his voice, all rough, when he says, “I’m so proud of you. Every day—but uh, right now especially.”
My hands find his. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Yeah.” His mouth tips to the side, and he lowers it to meet mine. “You could have.”
“But I didn’t want to,” I whisper, and I don’t think, as our mouths move together, when the tears on my cheeks meet the ones on his, that there’s ever been a love like ours that can water you and help you grow into exactly who you’ve always wanted to be.
The patio door creaks open, and the cold air rushes in with two of my favourite voices in the world, and I do think there are all sorts of love that help you grow.
“They’re always doing this,” Imani mutters, and I can hear her eye roll.
Miller’s mouth shifts into a grin against mine, but he keeps kissing me.
Joel makes a noise of agreement. “Try sharing a fucking room with him when you’re on the road. The Facetimes. The inappropriate phone calls I can always hear? Hotel bathroom walls are paper thin. Don’t get me started on the text messages I’ve seen that make me wish I could burn my own retinas off.”
“I’d rather you didn’t do that. I have a lot of money riding on you this season,” Imani says sharply.
I sniff a laugh, and one of Miller’s thumbs brushes the last of my tears off my cheeks before he pulls back, grabbing my shoulders and shaking them. “Sorry. Ren was just checking her email. Got some good news and got, uh, carried away.”
Imani’s eyes fly to my open computer screen, and she straightens her glasses, waiting.
“UChicago,” I breathe, a smile splitting through the soil of me when it stretches across my face.
She gives a shriek before clearing her throat, composing herself with a shake of her head. “Best place for vertebrate paleontology in North America. No surprise.” Her hand rubs across her chest absentmindedly, and I think, tears gather in her eyes too. She turns to Miller with a frown. “And you ... I guess that means—Chicago is ... fine, I suppose.”
Miller blows out a breath, amused. “I’ve appreciated your, uh, loyalty, this last season Imani. It’ll be tough to lose after this year.”
“You can still be loyal to me.” Joel gives her a sideways grin before turning back to Miller. “One more season together then?”
“Looks like it.” Miller’s fingers dip below the neck of my sweater, and he taps them against my skin in time with my heart.
Joel angles his head, all competition. “Think we can go for another World Series before you defect?”
“Miller Colson-Burke. Three-time World Series champion. Loving partner of future Dr. Ren Jacobs, PhD. Father of Victor?” I smile up at him before lifting my brows. “I like the sounds of that.”
The planes of Miller’s face soften with his smile. “Yeah. Me too.” His palm splays against my chest, and my heart thrums against my rib cage, desperate for the only hands that ever held it properly. He jerks his head towards the kitchen. “Come on. Lots to celebrate.”
And because this giant, stretching monstrosity of an apartment has enough room for the four of us to sit down on the living room floor, we do celebrate, legs stretched out and tangling like roots on trees, passing around a bottle of champagne.
Miller winks at me, dropping his head against the couch with a lazy grin, tattooed hand gripped loosely around the neck of the bottle, and not for the first time, and not for the last, I come up with another reason why I always, always want to be me if she’s someone who gets to love him.
Miller
One Year Later
The sun in Mesa might be brighter than the sun in Dunedin, but I’m more interested in the one shining up at me through the screen of my phone.
“How’s Arizona?” Ren props her chin on her fist, hair tumbling down from her shoulders.
