what would you do?”
“Same thing I do now. I’d have my hands all over you. I’d drape an arm around your shoulder,” I say, demonstrating. “I’d make sure all the guys knew you were going home with me, and that no one else would get to touch you.”
Fitz closes his eyes and lets out a needy rumble, swaying closer to me. When he opens his eyes, those blue irises are full of desire. Like they usually are. “You being possessive is my new favorite thing.” Then he blinks and shakes his head. “But stop distracting me.” He clears his throat and gives me an earnest look. “What can we do?”
“I honestly don’t know. I imagine your schedule is ridiculously busy. You know mine is too.”
He runs a hand over his beard. “We play three games a week. We’re on the road a ton. You work every day but Sunday and Monday.”
I nod. “I do.”
He’s quiet for a minute, eyes turned toward the people stretched out across the lawn, but not seeing them. He looks lost in thought. After a beat, he says, “But honestly, New York’s not that far from London.”
I shoot him a skeptical stare. “Not that far?”
“Well, it’s not San Diego-to-London far.”
“Fine. True. But it’s still far, Fitz.”
“Yeah, I’m just trying to work through scenarios,” he says, leaning back against the bench, rubbing his hand on my shoulder. “Like, if I had a couple days off and they lined up with your days off, would you come over and see me?”
Would I? I know the answer, but I also can’t resist the chance to toy with him. “Depends.” My voice is coy.
“Depends on what?” he asks, indignant.
“Are you getting me a first-class ticket?”
Fitz laughs, sliding a hand up my thigh. “Well, you have a first-class cock. I’m definitely going to miss this first-class cock.”
I grin. “I get it. You’d be willing to fly me and my first-class cock over when you are horny.”
He smirks, licking the corner of his lips. “Fuck, yeah.”
I nod a few times. “I can live with that. My first-class cock and I can definitely live with that.”
He pumps both fists. “Problem solved by the power of dick.”
All I can do is laugh. We both do. We crack up, and it feels great to laugh with him.
But soon, the laughter fades, and we’re back to the same place.
The Will we? The Can we?
“Seriously though, Dean?” he asks.
I sigh, wishing there were an easy answer. “I think we just have to see how it goes. I mean, I don’t know. It doesn’t sound ideal, to be honest. Do you want a long-distance thing? It sounds kind of awful.”
“It does. But I also don’t want zero of you.”
“I feel the same. But I don’t want two percent of you either.” I turn and meet his gaze. “And look, I can’t just up and leave my world.” Before Fitz can say a word—because I am not taking a chance on him freaking out again—I hold up both hands. “I know you’re not asking me to. I’m not saying you are. I just want to be clear. I’m putting my cards on the table. There’s no bluffing here. My mum did that, and I won’t do the same.”
He reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “I get it. I do, I swear.”
We sit and stare at the park, looking for answers and finding none.
“Do you want to go?” I ask after a few minutes.
He shakes his head. “No. I want to stay.”
I know what he’s saying, and I want it too.
But that’s not in the cards. Still, I sit on the bench with him for a little longer before we leave with nothing decided, because this is one of those problems that doesn’t have a solution.
33
Fitz
Emma calls this the golden hour.
It’s not sunset. It’s a little before, when the light is perfect, and every photo has that perfect hazy glow.
Natch, I take plenty.
Dean’s stopped giving me a hard time, and I’ve stopped pretending they’re for Amelia.
They’re all for me.
As we drink our five o’clock beers, I hold up my phone. “Smile for the camera.”
“You mean for your wank bank, Fitz.”
“I call it the spank bank. You call it a wank bank. Whatever. Just get over here.”
My sexy Brit takes off his shades and gives me the best fuck me smolder ever. I snap that pic so fast.
“Damn,” I say, looking at his dark-brown eyes on the screen. “That’s my new favorite shot of you and me. I am going to