Page 87 of For the Boys
“Somehow lucky enough to call this smokeshow my girlfriend. Thanks for putting up with me, Berk.”
“And the photos?” he asked.
Berkley leaned close, scrolling through the photos they had selected. There was one of them at the first loft party Brent had taken her to, a candid shot of Brent lifting Berkley into a hug at the Warriors game she’d gone to after their first date, a selfie of them cuddled in bed the morning after New Year’s Eve, and a group photo of them surrounded by Berkley’s friends and Brent’s teammates in front of the bar at the loft.
“I love that one,” Brent said when she scrolled by the shot of them in bed.
Berkley looked up at him, her breath catching when she saw the way he was looking at her, like he really couldn’t believe how lucky he was.
“And for real. Thanks for putting up with me,” he said, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose.
She smacked him and handed him his phone.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Truth be told, Berkley would never be ready for this moment. She would have preferred to stay trapped in their bubble forever. But it was bound to pop eventually. She had no idea how the public would react to the news that Detroit’s most eligible bachelor was off the market, snagged by someone normal and decidedly not famous. She hated that. Berkley Daniels did not do well when things were out of her control. She did not do well with feelings of inadequacy, and she had a sneaking suspicion things were going to get worse before they got better.
To put it simply, yes, she was scared. But for him, she was willing to do this thing that scared her.
For Brent, for the sake of this budding relationship she desperately wanted to hold onto, she was willing to doa lotof things that scared her.
“Ready,” she said, the steadiness in her voice surprising her.
Brent shared the post, and instantly, Berkley’s phone pinged with a notification.
Brent Jean tagged you in a post.
“My turn,” she said. “He might be an insanely talented hockey player,” she read as she typed, “but I’m the one who scored big time.”
Brent wrapped his arm around her again and dropped a kiss to her temple. “Yours is way cuter than mine.”
“You’ll have plenty of chances to post disgustingly adorable things about me down the road.”
Brent’s smile split his face, and Berkley couldn’t help but reciprocate.
For the moment, at least, things were okay. Better than okay. Things were perfect.
Brent leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m counting on it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Brent
Life in the wake of going public with his relationship remained fairly normal for Brent, other than the ever-increasing message requests, the frequent story tags, and the daily screenshots Berkley sent of nasty comments about her.
Unfortunately, the next two weeks were a flurry of hockey road trips and business meetings for FLEX. If his brief conversations with her were any indication, Berkley was struggling to keep it all together, and his inability to be there for her caused a constant ache in his heart.
The Warriors were on the road in North Carolina, ending a three-game road trip that had started in Florida. Brent was in his hotel room, FLEX paperwork fanned out around him on the bed, when Berkley called.
Instantly, he could tell something wasn’t right.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“Brent,” she said, voice thick, as though she were on the verge of tears. “I wish you were here.”
“So do I,” he said. “But tell me what’s going on. It sounds like something happened.”
“A girl in one of my classes dumped coffee over my head.”
