Page 46 of Goal Line
“Fine,” I say. The bed dips as I kneel at the end and crawl up to lie down, facing her. “Happy?”
I can barely make out the small smile that curves her lips. “Less annoyed. Now go to sleep.”
The whole bed shakes with my laughter, and she lets out a little groan in response, but we both must fall asleep quickly because I have no memories after that.
The ray of light shining through the window and directly into my eyes isn’t what wakes me up in the morning. No, it’s the way Eva’s wrapped around me like a starfish. I crack open one eye to find her lying on her side with one of her legs draped over mine, her arm across my torso, and her head resting in the crevice between my shoulder and chest, while my arm is wrapped around her back, my hand resting possessively on her hip.
Did I pull her to me in the middle of the night? Or did she roll onto me?Shit. This is why you don’t sleep in the same bed as your best friend.
She’s your wife now,a little voice in my head reminds me. It’s the same voice that would tell me jumping into a pool from the second story of a house when I’ve had six too many beers is a good idea. I know better than to follow his advice.
But at the same time, as I lie here, listening to the birds outside and the faint sounds of LA traffic in the distance, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if we could wake up together every day. I know Eva’s intention when we get back to Boston is to move into my guest bedroom—she has made thatveryclear—but I would love for things to work out differently.
With her, I wish lots of things were different, but this marriage based on friendship is still better in every way than being withanyoneelse.
Eva rubs herself along my side and nuzzles her face into my chest like a cat who wants its back scratched. The cute little moan she lets out has my entire body on notice, but then she lifts her head and looks up at me. Pure panic floods her face and she mutters, “shit,” and springs backward so fast I’m afraid she’ll launch herself off the side of the bed. Given that there’s barely room to stand between the edges of the bed and the walls on either side, I’d probably have to drag her out by her feet. The mental image has me chuckling.
“What are you laughing about? Did I drool on you or something?”
No, you’re just as perfect asleep as you are awake.
“I was just imagining how I’d get you out if you fell between the bed and the wall.”
“Why were you imaginingthat?” She sounds offended.
Because it’s better than thinking about the look of horror on your face when you realized you were cuddled up next to me.
“Because the way you just threw your whole body backward made me think it was a real possibility.” I turn on my side to face her. “How are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Hartmann?”
“Oh my god,” Eva groans. “Mrs. Hartmann is your mother. Donotcall me that!”
“When in your lifetime have youevercalled my mom Mrs. Hartmann?” My parents have always been Uncle Frank and Aunt Elise to Eva.
“Whatever, you know what I mean.”
My chuckle fills the space as she rolls her eyes. Based on her reaction to me calling her Mrs. Hartmann, I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to the question I’m about to ask, but I ask anyway. “Okay, what I really want to know is if you’re freaking out today like you were last night, or if you’re good now?”
“I still can’t believe we got married. Oh shit...” She lets out a deep sigh. “We have to tell our parents. I wonder if they’ve been looking for us?”
“We each had our own hotel room in Vegas, so they may not have even noticed our absence yet. Hold on, let me grab my phone.” I scoot to the end of the bed and walk over to the couch. My pants from last night are folded on the space where the seat cushions would be if they weren’t spread across the floor. I find my phone in my pocket and check the time and my texts as I walk back to the bed.
Luckily, I’ve got no missed calls or texts. I’ve never been so relieved to have had no one reach out to me in the pasttwelve hours. When I turn back toward the bed, Eva’s got her phone in her hand and she glances up at me, a look of worry instantly turning into one of annoyance.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to walk around in your boxers once we were married?”
I glance down at my body, and there’s no mistaking that I’m semi-hard, like I normally am when I wake up. It’s actually a miracle I didn’t wake up with a raging hard-on, given the way she was wrapped around me. “Sorry, I didn’t think about it. Besides, how many times have you seen me in a bathing suit?”
Eva always jokes about how short my swim trunks are, but I hate the way wet material feels when it bunches up between my thighs, so I don’t care. I didn’t wear longer swim trunks even when that was the style.
“Swim trunks and boxer briefs are a little different,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not going to walk around in my bra and thong, so you shouldn’t walk around in boxers—okay?”
The desire to tease her about her modesty is overwhelming, but I can tell she’s not in the mood for that, which makes me wonder what’s on her phone screen. So, I sit next to her at the head of the bed and make a point of covering my lower body with the sheet instead.
“I don’t have any messages. You?” I ask.
“Yeah, my mom texted me half an hour ago, saying she and my dad were going to the breakfast buffet before the flight home, and asking if I wanted to join. And then she texted me, like, ten minutes ago, asking if I was awake yet and reminding me what time the plane leaves.”
Eva’s family had come on our private jet with us, whichmeans in an hour and a half, the car will be at the hotel to take everyone back to the airport. “We probably need to tell them before your parents start looking for you and panic when you don’t answer the knock on your door, yeah?”
