Page 96 of A Game Plan for Love

Me: Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?

Declan: Said I had to pee. Meet me in the equipment room. Quick, before they think I died.

I rush out of the room and down the hall toward the spare equipment room. I reach out a hand to turn the knob, but the door flies open and I’m pulled into the dark room.

“What are you—”

Declan smashes his lips to mine, stealing my surprised gasp. He consumes me, and I clutch his bicep to keep from falling to the ground.

This is not what I was expecting, but as he trails his hand down my waist and over the globe of my ass, I can’t say I’m disappointed.

He nibbles at my lower lip, then breaks the kiss. The smile on his face is a glorious sight—wide and full of joy.

“I’ve thought about that all morning,” he admits, “You’re a hard woman to chase down at work.”

“I purposefully hide from you,” I say sheepishly, “Or else I would getnothingdone, and I’d like to keep my job.” His smile transforms into a smug thing. Cocky man. “Get back to practice,” I demand, shoving him toward the door.

He digs his heels into the ground and kisses me one more time before he exits the small room. I’m breathless as we return to the hallway.

Declan backpedals toward the practice field, but pauses at the door and calls out, “Sleepover on Friday! Bring your jammies!”

“Go!” I yell.

“Not until you RSVP!”

“We’ll be there,” I say, and he grins before slipping through the door.

There’s nowhere else we’d want to be.

When I step back into the nutrition room, oranges cover the floor, and the interns frantically pick them up, turning their polos into makeshift baskets. I heave a deep breath. Nope. Not acknowledging this.

I step around a pile of oranges and return to my table in the corner, and the mango and coconut milk smoothie I put together earlier. It’s my favorite combination, and I often throw in other tropical fruit to enhance the flavor. It melts like sugar on my tongue, and I hide a smile behind the cup as Louis chases a rogue orange across the room.

He glances over sheepishly, and I throw a fist in the air.

I’m still laughing when I pick up my phone, but it dies a quick death on my lips.

Mom: We will be there. Made a reservation at Bucco’s at 7 pm.

Dread drops like a stone in my stomach, and instead of lingering in it, I pull up the photo of Nora, Declan, and me standing in the stadium, holding hands, and I let it wash all the worry away.

Nora sits quietly in the backseat of the car, peeling stickers from the book Declan bought her and transferring them to a notebook, creating the perfect mosaic.

When she asked where we were going, I lied through my teeth and told her to the pharmacy so I could buy tampons. That squashed any further interest, and the car has been silent ever since—except for the early 2000s Rhianna playing through the speakers.

This feels like a big step—one that can’t be undone—and it creates nerves, and worry, but also unbridled anticipation.

I don’t regret telling Declan he needs to be settled in his choice. Nora accepted him faster than I could have expected, and both of our hearts are on the line.

He’s been called a playboy, but I’ve never thought that was true. A serial dater, sure, but it’s clear now he’s been searching for where he belongs. I want him to believe he belongs with us, but he needs to come to that decision because it’s what his heart is telling him, and not because we fit the mold of what he’s been missing his entire life.

I pull into Declan’s driveway, and Nora’s head lifts in the rearview mirror.

“Where are we?” she asks, surveying the yellow door and large porch.

I help her out of the car and grab our bags, then take her hand and lead her toward the front door.

A small goose sits in the corner with a yellow rain jacket and boots, and a sign around its neck that reads ‘Welcome Addie & Nora!’. I suck in a small gasp and my nerves flutter around my chest.

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