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I’m in my spinster era. Every twentysomething has one of those, right?
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Eli says, finally. “And the kind words. But I still don’t think this is something you can help with.” He stops, then meets and holds my gaze with an intensity that freezes me in place. “That is,” he continues, those blue eyes blazing, “unless you want to marry me.”
She takes the tiniest step closer to me, like I make her feel safer. Good. I like that.
Can I help it if the man makes me shine brighter? Feel lighter? And blush like a schoolgirl with a crush?
Chronic-Ills of Narnia? Get it—chronic ills? Chronicles? Such a missed opportunity.”
“I am of the opinion that if you really want something, you sometimes have to make your own luck, even if it’s risky.”
“Who’s taking care of you, Bailey?” Eli’s words settle over me, soft as snowfall, only warm not cold. “No one,” I murmur. “I could,” Eli says, and now I’m really not sure if I’m dreaming. Because this is the
exact kind of thing I wish someone would tell me. “I would.”
“But whose name will be on the back of my jersey?” His face darkens, and it only
makes me push more. “Maybe Van? He’s a fun guy.” Eli’s heated look turns molten, and he shakes his head slowly. “Mine,” he says firmly, his low voice wrapping like a fist around my heart. “You can only wear my name.”
“His mother,” she says, then hooks her arm through mine. “And this woman is the only one my son’s giving any kind of kisses to.” Tiny Shorts turns her gaze to me, the cocky look fading into confusion. “I thought he was single.” “Was,” Maggie says, then curls an arm around my shoulders. “Past tense. And you’re looking at his present and his future.”
“One more thing—you will never be too much for the right woman. You’ll be exactly enough.”
I’ve found one of the hardest things about losing people you care about is the guilt of remembering the things they weren’t so great at. Thinking about their flaws and disappointments makes me feel like a traitor.
