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“You want this baby, don’t you?” I shift in my seat, resisting the urge to hunch. My cheeks are uncomfortably warm. And yet the corners of my mouth want to lift. “Yeah, I think I do.”
It’s not like Fi is any better, giving Gray a T-shirt that says Man Meat across the chest.
Dex’s tone is uncharacteristically gruff, but I don’t miss the way his gaze keeps sliding toward Fi when she’s not looking.
It just feels right.” Soft lips brush along my neck. “The same way you feel right.”
“This was my mom’s,” he says. “The only tangible thing I have left of her. Seeing it on your finger would give me joy.”
“Ivy Jane Mackenzie, I want to marry you. I want you to be my family. And I’ll be yours.”
“We’re together, as in I wake up every morning and think, ‘Thank fuck, Ivy wants me. How can I persuade her to keep me forever?’”
“But you’re asking me to marry you, Gray.” “Uh, yeah, and you keep rejecting me, damn it.”
I’ve discovered that I need her with me or I feel unbalanced. I miss her so much my chest feels hollow, yet tight.
I read the text out loud. “‘Gray and I are together now. Don’t be pissy with him. It’s serious. And I’m happy.’”
“Ah, fuck, I’m stuck with your regardless, aren’t I?” “’Fraid so, Big Mac.”
“Well, then, welcome to the family, kid.”
GrayG: Wait, DEX got to see you before I did? Foul! Personal foul!
GrayG: 1184 and 1210 are amicable numbers :) IvyMac: I love it when you talk nerd. So sexy.
If you can’t handle my Tight End, you need a stronger D.
“Kiss me, Cupcake,”
“Let me take care of you for a while.”
“God, honey, promise you’ll marry me one day.
“When I think of this baby as you and me, I want to protect it with all that I am.”
“We can play interrogate the spy.” Gray lowers his head and nips my earlobe. “You gonna be a spy, Mac?” “No. You are. I’ll tie you to a chair and do dirty things to make you talk.”
“Every inch, Mac.” I press a kiss to his lips. “Every inch, Gray. Now go kick some ass.”
“Daddy,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I want to tell him I’m pregnant, but I don’t think I am anymore.
We fucking did it. We fucking won. We’re going to the National Championship.
Ivy. Where is Ivy? I need to see her like I need my next breath.
You’re the best of us, Gray.”
my thoughts turn to the person I love more than anything on earth.
I don’t want her to see me cry. I need to be strong for her.
My heart bleeds for her, a physical ache that has me leaning against the doorframe.
Ivy’s fingers play with mine as she leans more of her weight on me, sinking into my strength for support.
“We can’t control the bad things, Ivy. But we can be there for each other when they happen. And the good stuff? It’s worth everything and anything if I can share the good stuff with you.”
then takes me home and makes me cream-of-tomato soup with grilled-cheese sandwiches, because I’d once told him that it was a childhood favorite. And when I want to watch a movie, he downloads the entire John Hughes collection.
“Why do I have the feeling you like watching me dance? And not because I’m great at it?” Truth is, I know I’m not great at dancing.
“Because you’re cute as a bug.”
“It’s okay to let yourself be happy again, honey.”
“It’s like this. The sum of all the natural divisors of 1184 is 1210, and vise-versa. It’s almost as if the number is the other’s soul mate.” His deep blue eyes peer down at me. “Like you and me.”
“Wait, are you trying to say this tattoo is about us?” “Of course. You probably don’t remember, but my room number in New Orleans was 1184. And yours was 1210.”
“When I first met you that day at the airport, you seemed so familiar to me, so right, that I thought we were like a pair of amicable numbers.”
“The fact is, Ivy, for me, there is one absolute truth. The sum of my existence equals you.”
“I love you,” I say into his mouth. Because he should hear that. Every day.
He’s warm and relaxed and holding me as if he’ll never let go.
I’m twenty-two years old, and I know with every insistent beat of my heart that I love this man. My rock. My lover. My best friend.
“Gray Grayson, I want to marry you. I want you to be my family. And I’ll be yours.”
“You gonna put a ring on me, Mac?”
“Don’t distract me, Ivy Mac. I want a ring. Platinum. Wide band. Engraving optional, but preferred.”
“Just know what I want.” He lifts his head to gaze down at me. His smile is lopsided, bittersweet, but growing. “That would be you, if I wasn’t clear.”
GrayG: Big Daddy has landed. Are shenanigans in play tonight?
IvyMac: There will be no shenanigans if the use of ‘Big Daddy’ comes into said play. That’s a personal foul. 15 yard penalty. Do not pass Go to collect your prize.
GrayG: Mac, you sent a dirty text. I just shed a tear of pride.
Gray isn’t so fond of the damp, but he loves soup and deems this the perfect place to make it constantly.
“Cupcake,” I say when we part. “I’ve missed you.”
