Page 73 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
“So you’re just going to give up on the hot goalie because of some picture?” she asked, her smile wicked.
I laughed. “Will you stop calling him that?”
She smirked, completely unrepentant.
“So,” I said, redirecting, “what about you? Are you going to move here? Move the girls here permanently?”
Brooke inhaled, let it out slow. “Yeah… I think we are. Nolan’s on the road a lot during the season, but if we stayed in the house, we’d hardly see him.”
“That’ll make my brother happy,” I said.
Her gaze sharpened on me. “What about you? If we move here, will your nieces see you more often?”
The answer sat in my chest, waiting. “I’ve been thinking… they’re going to grow up so fast. I want to be here for it. For them. For you and Nolan.”
“And the hot goalie,” Brooke added.
“You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head. But the thought slipped in anyway.Well…that wouldn’t be the worst side benefit.
Brooke’s grin softened. “You know… the girls would love having you close by.”
I hesitated, then shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve actually been thinking I might start looking for a place tomorrow.”
Her brows shot up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m picturing two bedrooms, so the girls could stay over if you and Nolan ever want a date night without bribing a babysitter.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” she teased, but her eyes warmed. “So, what else are you looking for?”
I leaned back, ticking it off on my fingers. “Light. A decent kitchen. Maybe a little balcony.”
“And a doorman,” she said, like it was non-negotiable. “Nolan will insist. You know how he gets about security.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll submit a full background check request for the entire building staff.”
Brooke smirked. “Don’t laugh, he’s probably already researching.”
I smiled, but in the back of my mind, the picture was already forming, my own place, my own space.
Brooke gathered her bag. “Text me tomorrow.”
The door clicked. I rinsed the bowls, dried my hands, and pulled my planner from the nightstand. I flipped open my planner, pen tapping against the margin before I wrote it down in neat block letters:Apartment hunting.
The smell of coffee curled down the hallway, warm and rich, pulling me toward the kitchen before I was even fully awake.
Liam was already there, sleeves pushed up, one hand working the sleek chrome coffee maker while the other reached for my mug without asking. The same one he always gave me; navy blue, handle chipped on the side.
“Morning,” he said, low and easy.
I leaned against the counter, letting the heat seep into my palms as he poured. This was our rhythm: coffee, a few quiet minutes, no rush. It felt… settled.
Too settled.
I cleared my throat, shifting the mug in my hands. “Hey, mind if I use your printer later?”
His brows lifted just slightly. “Sure. Just a warning, it has a mind of its own.”
I smiled over the rim of my mug. “Meaning?”
