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“It’s been four days, Des. Four days.”

“And in those four days, he’s bought a crib, handled night feeds so you can sleep, and asked you to move into his room. Most guys I date won’t even text back within four days.”

I don’t say anything because she’s not wrong, and I hate that she’s not wrong.

“Ryleigh. Listen to me. I have watched you claw your way through the last two years on pride and stubbornness and not a lot else. And I love that about you. But at some point, you have to let someone in. Not because you need saving—because you deserve someone who shows up. And from everything you’ve told me, that man shows up.”

My eyes sting. I blink it away. “What if it falls apart?”

“What if it doesn’t?”

I sit there in my car, keys still in my hand, the club in front of me and Alexei’s penthouse behind me—somewhere across the city. Two lives. Two versions of me. The one who survives and the one who might actually get to be happy.

“I have to go to work,” I say.

“I know.” Her voice softens. “But think about what I said, okay? Just think about it.”

“Okay.”

“And Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t invite me over to that penthouse soon, our friendship is in jeopardy.”

I laugh, and it loosens something in my chest. “Deal.”

After we hang up, I sit for another minute. The sun is bright, and the parking lot is empty, and in a minute I’ll walk through those doors and put on the costume and do the job. But tonight I’ll go home to Alexei’s apartment and sleep in his bed, and if I’m not careful, I’ll start falling for him.

And I don’t know how to fall without bracing for impact.

But maybe I don’t have to figure that out today. Maybe today I just go to work, come home, and let tonight be tonight.

I grab my bag, lock my car, and head inside.

Chapter Ten

Alexei

Seven days. That’s how long I’ve known her.

Seven days ago, I was walking home from dinner with my agent, bored and restless, and now I’m standing in my closet debating which T-shirt says I’m a responsible man who should definitely be trusted with someone else’s baby at a professional football meeting.

The drive to the facility takes twenty minutes, and I spend every one of them in a mood so good it’s almost embarrassing.

Ella’s in the back seat, content, working her pacifier like it’s a full-time job. The radio’s low. I’m tapping the steering wheel at red lights because everything feels lighter this morning, and I know exactly why.

I can’t stop thinking about Ryleigh.

She talks to Ella in this low voice like they’re planning something, and I’ve stood in the hallway listening more times than I’ll ever admit.

She’s stubborn to a degree that should be annoying and is instead one of my favorite things about her. She works harder than guys I know who get paid millions to push their bodies to the limit. She took in a baby that isn’t hers because nobody else stepped up, and she hasn’t complained about it once. Not once.

She told me this morning that her life is a mess and she’s not ready for whatever this is, and then she kissed me in the kitchen like she was trying to prove herself wrong.

I know it’s fast. I know if a buddy told me this story, I’d tell him to slow down. But I don’t want to slow down. I want to drive home after this meeting and find her in my kitchen in my T-shirt, humming that same off-key song, and I want every morning to feel exactly like this one did.

I pull into the lot, grab the carrier and the diaper bag, and head inside.