Page 126 of I'm Your Guy
“Um…” I’m still trying to process what he just said. “You have my full attention. But—”
“But nothing,” he says. “Carter, I love you. I want to be with you. And even if you go back to Montana, it will still be true.”
FORTY-FIVE
Tommaso
I didn’t think this was possible, but I’ve shocked Carter into silence. His eyes are wide, and he’s gone completely still.
It’s not a good sign. He’s probably trying to figure out how to let me down gently. And that’s going to hurt. But I had to shoot my shot.
“Breathe,” I remind him. Because even if I’m about to get dumped, my guy still needs oxygen. “You don’t have to say it back. You just have to know that it’s true.”
He lets out a whoosh of breath, and his blue eyes are as serious as I’ve ever seen them. “Say it again,” he whispers.
“Which part?”
He grabs his drink and takes another gulp. “The important part. No guy has ever said that to me before, and I’m worried that I just hallucinated it.”
I replay my speech in my head. It had all been important. “You mean that I love you? That’s the easy part. Think about it—I chased you out of a furniture store the first time I ever saw you. Then I bribed a cop so you wouldn’t run away from me. Seems pretty obvious looking back on it, doesn’t it?”
He smiles, but it’s shy. “When you put it that way.”
“That’s the first clip of our highlight reel.”
He props an elbow on the bar. “What’s the second clip? Me forcing you to go shopping?”
“Yeah. And me accidentally calling you in the middle of the night when I’m mostly naked.”
His smile spreads across his kissable mouth. “That was a highlight. Not as exciting as the refrigerator incident. But close.”
I scowl. “That one’s for the blooper reel.”
“Not true. My entire year has been a blooper reel, and I know a highlight when I see it.” He sips his drink. “Look, I have big feelings for you, but they still don’t take my problems away. And I don’t want to lean on you. I need to sort some things out for myself. Business things.”
And now I’m smiling like I just won the lottery. Because “business things” don’t sound so bad. I reach over to squeeze his arm. “You don’t have to figure out your whole life tonight. I just want to make sure I’m a part of it when you do.”
He shakes his head and smiles back at me. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here drinking pink vodka at Sportsballs and having this conversation.”
“Can you think of a better place to have it?”
“Not really.”
I cover his hand briefly, and his gaze shoots down to our hands. As if he’s witnessing a miracle. “This place doesn’t take itself too seriously. I need more of that in my life. See?” I point at the walls. “Check out the tags on all the pictures.”
Carter looks. The walls are covered with framed, signed photographs of athletes from every sport. Each one is accompanied by a yellow circle labeled hotness factor. For example, there’s a photo of a baseball player hanging behind the bar, and his hotness-factor label reads: Hottest Rockies player with a batting average over 300.
And so on.
Coach Powers suddenly looms over me, a frown on his face. “DiCosta! Why are you hiding in the damn corner? You’re supposed to be signing autographs right now. Get back out there and support your teammate.”
Fuck me. I open my mouth to argue, but someone else beats me to it.
“Coach Powers,” the bartender thunders. “I gotta blow the whistle here. You get paid millions more than me, but we both need the same skills, you know? So read the damn room. If you’d been paying attention, you woulda noticed these two are havin’ some kind of come-to-Jesus conversation about the whole future of their relationship.”
As I watch, my coach’s eyes widen. And Carter suddenly looks freaked.
“I mean,” the bartender continues. “If you were watching the body language, you’d see it. Your boy is drinkin’ a drink he don’t even like, just to make a point. I think maybe he screwed up pretty good somehow, because his guy looks kinda skittish. But he was holding his own until you came over here and interrupted.”
