Page 101 of A Game Plan for Love

“Adeline.” Her name on my lips borders on begging, but she gives me a cheeky smile and takes my hand.

After a few breaths, I guide her into the sunroom and onto one of the large wicker patio couches. Her gaze is wary as I pick up the gift bag hidden in the corner.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she says shyly as I place the bag in her lap.

In our time together, I’ve learned Addie and Nora’s love languages. Addie doesn’t care about the value of an item based on its tag, but on the sentiment behind it. A bracelet could cost a hundred grand, and that would mean nothing to her, but if you told her it made you think of her, then it means the world.

Nora’s a child, and she’s fond ofthings. As many as she can get.

Gingerly, Addie tugs the purple tissue paper out of the bag and pulls out the sketchbook and pens I bought her. Her doodle still sits in my locker, and her talent in drawing is evident. It deserves to be nurtured.

A timid smile appears on her lips, and she sets it down on the cushion beside her and rips open the envelope. Her gasp is the only sound in the room besides the thudding of my heart in my ears.

Her head lifts, and tears pool on her waterline. “Thank you.”

She clutches the voucher for art classes tightly in her grip.

“It’s valid for three different classes,” I explain, “They offer different art mediums. You could paint, sketch, make pottery, whatever you’re interested in.” Her lower lip trembles. “And you don’t need to worry about Nora. I got her classes too, but for children. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she parrots, eyes sparkling at the mild word vomit. She pats the seat beside her, and when I sit, she burrows into my side. The quiet between us is a comfortable, vulnerable thing, and if every night of the rest of my life was spent this way—dinners full of laughter, putting Nora to bed, quiet moments shared with Addie—then I would die a happy man.

“My parents made a reservation for Sunday night,” she says. Her head rests on my shoulder as she looks out into the backyard, the last rays of sun morphing into shades of orange and pink as it disappears beneath the horizon.

“I’ll be there.”

I drag a palm along her hip, up and down, with the hopes it will soothe her nerves. The tension in her shoulders melts the longer we sit, and when she’s fully relaxed, I ask, “Do you want to make a game plan?”

“Huh?”

“We decide where the line is, and if they cross it, then we leave.” She nibbles on her lip, and I cup her face between my palms. “No relationship with them is worth sacrificing yourself.”

“I don’t want to cry,” she admits softly. “If that happens, we go.”

I nod. “We go.”

Addie yawns deeply, and her breathing begins to slow as the night sky darkens and the air cools. Her heat wards off the chill, but after fifteen minutes, she’s fast asleep, snoring softly at my side.

Mooning someone really takes it out of you, I guess.

I scoop her off the couch and into my bedroom. She barely rustles when I pull the linen covers over her, but when I return from the bathroom, she’s starfished out on the bed, consuming as much space as possible. Her arm pats the space around her, and when she comes up empty for whatever she’s looking for, her eyes crack open.

The only light in the room filters from the bathroom, where I watch her from the doorway.

“Declan?” she calls out, voice raspy.

The realization strikes me.She was searching for me.

“I’m here,” I say, flicking off the light and crawling into bed beside her. She crawls atop my chest and drops her whole body weight on top of me.

“Much better,” she sighs, falling back into a deep slumber.

Her steady heartbeat sends me into a restful sleep right beside her.

I’m woken up by a small finger poking my cheek.

Addie is curled beside me, her copper hair fanned out over my face and the pillows, and Nora’s head hovers inches away from mine, her sleep breath acting like smelling salts, and waking me right up.

“Is everything okay?” I whisper as I scan her for any injuries. She’s clutching her sea otter stuffed animal tightly to her chest, and her curly hair is matted against her head. Sleepy eyes meet mine.

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