Page 21 of Everywhere You Look

I didn’t have the heart or the patience to tell her that the germs from the sink were probably worse than anything she might contract from the offending condiment. But oh well, I’ll sneak another gummy vitamin into her breakfast routine in the morning. That should help ward off any infection.

“Right. Right. Okay. Yeah, let’s go through them.”

Hell, could I sound anymore like a stammering idiot?

“Alright,” Dean says, setting his phone on the table and opening up to his notes app. I quickly scan the bulleted list, but once my eyes gloss over when Dean scoots his chair an inch closer to mine, just enough that I can smell the sweet remnants ofwhipped cream on his lips. My dick thumps behind my zipper, and I run a hand through my hair and try to stop myself from imagining if those lips would taste sweet like whipped cream, too.

It’s probably for the best if I just shut up and let my husband-to-be talk.

“I think, first and foremost, we should make this seem as real as possible to people. I mean we’ll really be married, obviously. We won’t have to pretend when there’s an actual legal document involved. But we want the judge to think we’re in a committed, loving marriage and not just tied together out of convenience. It’s probably going to seem a little sketchy once the media picks up that you and I have suddenly gotten married out of the blue, so I was thinking we should have some sort of cover story.” Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck as he speaks, and the movement causes his black t-shirt to stretch across his pecs, outlining his muscles and making me?—

Fuck. No. No no no no. Bad Luke. This is not a time to be horny.

I blow out a breath so it seems like I’m thinking and not just trying to relieve some of the sudden and inconvenient sexual tension coiling in my stomach.

“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea. We could say we’ve been dating on the down low for a while.Maybe a year or so? Since before my injury. Once we loop in our PR teams and agents, we can probably get an interview with one of the high profile sports news outlets and only have to tell the story ourselves once.”

“That’s perfect. It would make sense that we’d want to keep a romantic relationship quiet when we were still potential adversaries on the field. And there’s plenty of documentation of us spending time together since then. I mean, I barely left your side when you were in the hospital, and it’s pretty much public knowledge that we’re living together now.”

A warmth spreads through my chest at the reminder of Dean by my side during my recovery. Even when I was a bitching, moaning, whining asshole, he never gave up on me. He was by my side through physical therapy, through the hell of last season when I was stuck on a team I knew I’d never play for again.

Even now, he’s so willing to uproot his life to make mine easier, and I’m certain that I do not deserve him. I place my hand on his knee, rubbing small arches with my thumb over the denim of his jeans. The warmth of his body sends a chill racing down my spine.

“Dean, I…I don’t think…fuck. Besides Gigi, I don’t think anyone has ever cared about me the way youdo. I don’t know what I did to get so lucky as to have you for a best friend. I love you, man,” I say, squeezing his knee. Dean lips part on a shaky exhale, and his pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. A moment passes between us. I stare in his beautiful gray eyes for lingering seconds until Dean blinks and shakes his head, breaking the spell.

“You know I love you too, dude. And that brings me to my second point—I think we should also make this seem as real as possible to the girls, at least for now. I don’t want them to lie or feel like they have to withhold the truth if anyone asks them questions. So as far as the chiquitinas go, you and I are in love and that’s why we’re marrying each other. What do you think?”

I sigh, nodding.

“I agree. Ollie is too young to know what the hell is going on, and while I don’t love the idea of lying to Lem and Mel, I hate the thought of them having to lie even more. If this all works out and they get to stay with us, we can explain it to them when they’re old enough to understand.”

“When this all works out, Luke. Not if. And I was thinking that maybe we should have some safe people. People we can trust to know the truth so that you and I aren’t holding on to this big secret all on our own. My dads, Kira and Warren, Tía Camila.They’re all people I can trust. And honestly, I don’t think I could lie to them even if I tried. Camila and Kira especially, they have that weird, powerful woman’s intuition and they’d sniff it out instantly.”

“It’s fine with me if you want to tell your people,” I say with a shrug.

“But?” Dean asks, picking up on my unspoken words.

“But nothing. I really am fine with it. It’s just that…youare my safe person, Dean. You’re the only safe person I have left. So I hope it’s okay that if this whole “keeping a secret” thing becomes too much for me, you’re the only person I’ll have to talk about it with. You might get sick of me really quick.”

Dean’s features soften, his mouth turning down into something almost resembling a frown, but not quite. I don’t think Dean could really frown, even if he tried.

“Luke, I could never get sick of you. It is an honor to be your safe person. I want you to know that you can come to me about anything, even if you need to complain about me. I promise, I’ll snap my fingers and be back in best friend mode, and I’ll listen and egg you on whenever you need to bitch about your annoying ass husband.” His face twists into a boyish grin. If it weren’t for the slight crinkles by his eyes that make him look handsome and distinguished, hecould pass for a twenty-something, wide-eyed optimist.

“But,” he continues, leaning over and squeezing my biceps. “I’m not all you have. My safe people can be your safe people, too. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that they will insist on it. My family already considers you and the girls ours, but you’re all about to be McKennas by marriage, and the McKennas are annoyingly loyal. You and the kids will be stuck with us forever, so that pretty much seals the deal on them being safe people for you, too.”

And just like that, I’m sure that this arrangement is the best thing I can do for my kids. Marrying Dean is more than just a ruse to secure custody. I’m providing Lemmie, Mellie and Ollie with something every kid should have: a family. Aunts, uncles, grandparents who will spoil them rotten. All the love that Gigi and I never had growing up is everything I know my sister would want for her daughters.

“I think Gigi would be proud of me,” I say, the hitch in my voice giving away any emotion I might have otherwise tried to suppress. Dean’s hand on my biceps travels up, tracing over my shoulder, brushing the sensitive skin on my neck before he lands on my cheek.

“Yeah, babe. I think that wherever she is, she isproud of you. She’s probably pissed off at your shithead parents and also laughing about the way you and I are going around our elbows to get to our noses, but I bet she’s proud as hell, too.”

I hum, blinking my eyes close as I lean into Dean’s touch, relishing the warmth of his palm against my bearded face. Somewhere along the line, leaning into Dean’s touch became my favorite thing to do. He’s cupped my cheek like this a thousand times before. When I was in the hospital after my surgery, when I was in recovery and losing my shit every other minute, when I was so lost in the grief of losing my sister that I couldn’t keep my head up on my own. In all those small moments, Dean’s touch became my comfort, my safe space.

His thumb brushes over my jaw, and a shiver wracks through me. I feel raw, vulnerable and exposed in a way I’m not used to. It’s intimate in a way I’ve never been with another person, but hell. If Dean and I are about to be married, I’d better get used to all this intimacy.

An image forms in my mind of Dean sitting just like this, my ring on his finger, the kids upstairs asleep, but it’s not me in this chair. It’s not my face he’s caressing. It’s someone completely different. Someone in a tight skirt or hoochie boy shorts that are all the rage with the queer dudes in this city. Iimagine Dean going to a bar, throwing one of his intoxicating smiles at a nearby stranger, picking them up and bringing them back to our house, and I’m murderous. I’ve never had the urge to shank a person before—real or imaginary—but I feel like I want to reach into my subconscious and give it a shot right about now.

“No dating,” I blurt out, making both Dean and myself jump at the jarring interruption to our silence. Dean furrows his brow as he slowly pulls his hand away from my cheek. I miss it already.

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