Page 75 of The Sweet Spot

Her camera shakes a little, revealing her dark, silky robe.

The phone slips out of my hand, but I’m able to catch it before it falls to the ground.

“Whit?!” I say, hopeful she’s still there.

“Still here.”

I sigh in relief when I see her.

I love you.

Yeah, let’s keep that thought to myself.

I jab the elevator button four times, needing to be upstairs as fast as possible.

“You look—” I start as the doors open. I stumble in and slump back against the mirrored wall, just looking at her. “You look really good. That's all. I had a whole speech and that's what's left of it.”

“I missed you. You looked good out there today.”

I frown. “I don’t want to talk about the game; I want to talk about literally anything else.” I push my hat back. “Have you finished packing? Are you ready for Canada?”

“Yes,” she says, with a little shrug that makes the robe fall off her shoulder slightly.

Don’t go there. Not yet.

That’s when I hear clanking dishes. “Wait, are you cooking?” I try to look at her background for any clues of what she’s up to, but it’s too bright and blurry for me to see anything.

“Mm-hm.”

“But I told you I was going to order you dinner to your door tonight.”

“I know, but I was really hungry for some hot dogs.”

I gasp. “That’s my favorite.”

“I know,” she says simply.

“You're making my favorite dinner a thousand miles away so I can watch you eat it?”

She tilts her head, completely unaware of her audacity.

“You do realize that's the most romantic and also the most psychologically cruel thing anyone's ever done to me?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

The floors tick up the elevator—six, seven—and although I can’t wait to get some privacy with her, I just want her.

“I’m sorry, I was hungry.”

The elevator dings, and the doors open to my floor.

“I wish I was there,” I say, and I mean it so much it comes out rough. “Right now. I’d never eat a hot dog again if it meant I could be with you.”

She holds my gaze through the screen. “I wish I was there, too.” Her voice is quieter, and I feel it. The ache behind the words. The reality of a long distance relationship is hitting hard tonight.

I slowly walk down my own hallway with my keys in my free hand and my phone still up.

When I get to my door and put the key in the lock, I stop.