Page 86 of Goal Line
“I was,” I say with a nod. “And you should have known that.”
She closes her eyes, tilting her head back, and I catch the back of her head with my fingertips. “I’m such an idiot. I was the one who asked Warner.”
Well, this is new information.
“Did you ask him because you thought I was going to ask Sadie?” What I’m really asking is whether she was jealous. Didshehave feelings for me back then, too?
She opens her eyes, and in the low light of the kitchen, it’s hard not to get lost in the way the shades of brown in her eyes swirl together, like dark and milk chocolate melting into each other.
“Yeah.” She gulps. “When I heard you were asking Sadie, Ineeded it to seem like I didn’t care—like I hadn’t been hoping you’d ask me.”
The weight of the missed opportunity hangs heavy in the air. But so does the promise of our future together.
“Maybe it’s better that we didn’t get together back then?” I say. It’s something I’ve had years to think about. “If something had happened between us in high school, and then I went off to college and you went to LA, we wouldn’t have lasted. Especially not once I was drafted and living in Canada. There was no way we could each have achieved our dreams, and still made a relationship work, not for all these years. It’s probably better that we stayed friends instead, so we could end up here, now.”
“I wish it had been you,” she says, and the sigh that follows is edged with sadness.
“You wishwhathad been me?”
“I don’t know . . . my prom date. My first . . . everything.”
“I’m your first husband,” I say with a sly smile.
“About that...” As she trails off, my stomach fucking drops like a pit of dread has opened up and swallowed my insides. I’m not sure what she sees on my face, but her eyes widen, and she laughs, saying, “Oh my god, I’m just teasing, Luke!”
“Not something to fucking joke about,Wife,” I practically growl at her as I pull her closer, erasing the distance between us.
“Sorry,” she whispers, right before my lips meet hers. “It . . . was . . . funny . . . in . . . my . . . head.” Each word escapes between kisses until I smother them out, because I’m done talking for now.
Chapter Thirty-Four
EVA
“Ineed . . .” I pull back from his kiss. “. . . a moment.”
His chuckle is deep and husky. “A moment?”
“Yeah. I can’t...process everything you just told me while you’re kissing me like this.” He just bared his soul—about being a virgin, about having had feelings for me for a decade—and I haven’t had space to think about what that means for us now that we’re married.
“Like how?”
“Like you own me.” God, but he does. He owns my heart and my body.
His rumble of laughter is low and deep. “I don’t own you, Eva, and I never will. But Iwillalways treat you like you’re the most precious thing in my life, because you are.”
“Jesus, Luke.” I close my eyes and exhale. How is he so...perfect?
“I’m done hiding my feelings. We can take this slow, if that’s what you need. Take a moment, or take a month—whatever works for you. I don’t expect that your heart and mind are in the same place as mine, but you obviously don’t just see me as a friend, even though you keep trying to convince yourself that’s the case.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing mind. He’s known the depth of his feelings all along, but they’re a revelation to me, and it’s a lot to wrap my head around.
He sighs, resting his forehead against mine like he so often does. I love it when he’s this close to me, when his sweet and woodsy scent overtakes my senses, when I can feel the heat from his skin wrapping me in warmth, when there’s nothing but the tiniest sliver of air between our bodies. It’s anticipation mixed with comfort—it’s Luke showing me every day how he’ll take care of me, how he’ll meet all my needs in a supportive but not overbearing way.
How did I not see this for the love that it is? How did I convince myself that this man, who never once talked about another woman to me, didn’t have any feelings beyond friendship? How did I believe the rumors about his sex life when it was so at odds with the person I’ve always known him to be?
I could cry when I think about all the times I talked about other men to him. All the first dates that ended in disaster, all the relationships that ended in heartbreak.
“I’m sorry.” The words are whispered, but I know he hears the urgency in them.
