I pulled her with me toward a tree near the edge of the path. The grass was dry as we sat down, and she curled in beside me like she’d done it a thousand times. Like she already knew that was where she belonged.
I looked down at her. My girl. Still couldn’t quite believe she was mine.
“I still can’t believe you agreed to come,” I said.
“There was never any doubt, Jordan.” That landed hard.
Jesus.
I turned slightly, facing her, my heart thudding like I was walking playing another final. Only this time, it wasn’t adrenaline. It was fear.
“Kate…” I hesitated. Then I took a breath and looked at her. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”
Her head turned slowly toward me. “What?” I didn’t look away. I needed her to hear this. To know I was serious. About her. About us.
“I’m in love with you,” I said again, my voice rough but certain. “I think I have been since the day I met you, but I’m properly gone for you.”
She stared at me for a second, like she was holding her breath. Her eyes were wide, like I’d caught her off guard, then something in her softened.
The tiniest smile curved her mouth. “I was wondering when you’d catch up.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Then her fingers slid into my hair, firm and unhurried, and she pulled me in. She kissed me like she already knew all of it. Like I didn’t need to say it again.
But I would. Over and over. Because that was the moment I knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She would be staying.
And so would I.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kate
The hotel suite was still.The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flap of curtains dancing in the breeze from the cracked window, thick with the August heat.
Jordan was out early with Chris, some meeting about scheduling, or strategy, or whatever it was that occupied dangerously handsome elite athletes first thing in the morning. I hadn’t asked too many questions. I was still in bed when he kissed my forehead and slipped out, murmuring something about bringing back coffee.
My fingers were tangled in the hem of his T-shirt, the only thing I slept in these days, still warm with the scent of his aftershave and skin. I rolled onto my back, eyes on the ceiling, replaying last night in the park.
“I’m in love with you.”
The words didn’t just echo, they boomed through my whole body. They rushed back like waves I wasn’t trying to fight. For once, I wasn’t drowning in the feelings.
He’d said it so gently, like he hadn’t even realised it had slipped out. Like it had lived there inside him all along. I pressed my palms to my eyes and kicked my legs under the covers like a giddy idiot.Fuck.
A year ago, my life had imploded. I’d genuinely believed I mightnever feel this way again. This undone, this wanted, this safe. Maybe I never had, not like this. Because it didn’t feel familiar. It felt new. Electric.
I loved him, too. Of course I did. I’d known for a while now, but saying it out loud had felt too big. Too risky. Like naming it might make it real, and real meant vulnerable.
But God, he made me feel like me again. He made me feel loved, and worthy, and special in ways I’d never truly let myself believe I was. Not completely. Not until now.
I was right on the edge of tumbling over, in that good, giddy kind of way, when my phone buzzed from the side table.
Gwen:
Ummm…have you seen the Daily Mail this morning?
You’re in it. A lot.
“Jordan Taylor’s mystery woman seen canoodling during American tour—is the tennis heartthrob off the market for good?”
Also, ‘canoodling’??? Honestly.
