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“April, I thought I put you down for a nap.” “I woke up,” a sweet, high-pitched voice replies in the background. “I can see that.”
“Don’t mention it, Sunflower.” “Why do you keep calling me that?” she asks. I grin. “Because you light up my life, just like sunflowers light up the world.”
“You’ve got the wrong number on,” I explain. “You should be wearing this one.” “You mean I should be wearing your number,” she says, pursing her bow-shaped lips. “That’s exactly what I mean,”
He takes a step back and holds one hand out for a shake. “So, Margo, my colleague, good work.” I slide my palm against his, and he shakes my hand once before letting go. “You too,” I tell him, hoping my voice doesn’t betray what’s going on inside my head. Or between my legs.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not in a hurry, Margo. I want you. So. Fucking. Much. But I don’t just want you as a notch on my bedpost. I want more. So until I’m sure you believe that… I can wait.”
“I could listen to you read the dictionary for days on end, Sunflower. That’s how much you enthrall me.”
“Sunflower?” “Yeah?” “Please don’t change your mind this time. I don’t think my heart could take it.”
Noah scores a third time, following through on his promise to deliver a hat trick, and everyone goes wild. One woman a couple rows down from me shouts, “He did it for her!” and I hear someone behind me jokingly say, “And I can’t even get my boyfriend to take out the trash.”
“Although… you do realize I wasn’t the only person in the stands wearing your number, right? There were probably hundreds of fans at the game wearing your last name on their back.” “It’s different when it’s you,” I insist, running my hand up her back. “How?” “Because one day, it’s gonna be your last name too.”
“Watch your fucking mouth,” tell him, a growl in my voice. “That’s my future wife you’re talking about.”
