“Ellie Vice, we both know you’d be on the other side of the world and would have forgotten about me completely if it weren’t for the baby.”
I swallow the harsh reality of that.
“I might have been across the globe right now…but I would not have forgotten you. I’m glad I’m here.”
“On the bathroom floor?”
“Yeah. On the bathroom floor. With the guy who’s about to win the Riders a Super Bowl ring.”
I relax a little and welcome the change of subject. “Gotta get through this weekend in New York first. Next round of playoffs against the Jets, and it’s gonna be tough.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot New York is this weekend. I think Noah said he’s flying up there for that game. Maybe my whole family is. Who knows?”
A smile instantly spreads across my face. “You should go with them. You are my designated PR person, after all. I need you there.” I hold her gaze for an extra beat and watch her eyes widen at my words. “For my image,” I add quickly.
She lifts a slender shoulder, her thin, perfect body draped in an oversize T-shirt that somehow makes her even hotter. “I guess I do work for the team now…and they’re taking the jet anyway. All right, washcloth boy, you convinced me.”
She stands up and brushes off the T-shirt, waving the cloth in front of me. “This shit is freaking magic.”
I laugh and walk back to the bedroom, glancing at the clock and wishing I didn’t have to be at the gym in thirty minutes.
I sit on the edge of the bed and watch Ellie pull on her leggings and fix her hair, toothbrush in mouth. I still don’t really know where I stand with her. Of course I’m crazy about her. But I know that, realistically, I don’t have much of a chance of being more than her kid’s dad. Things are just complicated right now.
Her heart still belongs to her work and her travel and adventures and all that Ellie Vice stuff. I know that.
And I know it’s absolutely insane, and her zillionaire family would never approve, but, dammit, I can’t stop picturing the two of us with the World’s Cutest Baby living happily ever fucking after.
Super Bowl, Matt. Win the goddamn Super Bowl and then worry about everything else.
“Thanks for…” She wraps her arms around me, and I rest my chin on her head. “Everything.”
“Of course.”
She smiles and picks up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder. “So I guess I’ll see you in New York this weekend.”
That’s about the happiest distraction I could imagine.
“I guess you will.”
Sixteen
Ellie
“Wow, that looks good.” I eye Noah’s flute of crisp, bubbly champagne, the glass dotted with droplets and bits of fizz rising rapidly to the top.
He runs a hand through his straight brown hair, pushing aside the strands that always flop into his face. “Drink your sparkling grape juice, Preggo.”
I roll my eyes and lean back in the plush leather seat of the private jet. I run my finger along the marbled tan-and-black design on the walls and take a deep inhale of the cool, clean air. I’ve always loved the jet. But not because it’s bougie and fancy and the peak of luxurious Vice living. I love it because being in it means I’m going somewhere new. The jet takes me to my next adventure.
And, right now, it’s taking me to New York to see Matt play. And I couldn’t be more excited.
Noah swipes through something on his tablet, narrowing his eyes and tapping vigorously at the screen. “Yo, guys.” He turns around and calls to my brothers, all sipping drinks and half working on business stuff in various seats around the jet. Well, except Jayson. He’s playing online poker.
“Yeah?” Jayson and Clay look up.
“Is the Wi-Fi working for you? Mine’s all spotty,” Noah says.
“Fine for me,” Jayson mumbles absent-mindedly, deeply immersed in a high-stakes game of blackjack.
“Don’t know. I’m not using it,” Clay says with a shrug. “I’m going over these new menu proofs from our graphic design department, but the files are downloaded.”
“All right.” Noah grunts and turns back to me, clicking off his iPad and sighing deeply. “I guess I’ll just have to stop working for the rest of the flight.”
“And enjoy the company of your favorite sister?” I ask with a cheesy grin.
He nudges my arm. “Something like that.” After he takes a long, slow sip of that glorious-looking champagne, his eyes widen, and he jumps back, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh!