Page 68 of Save Your Breath
A jeweler was showing up at my condo in twenty minutes.
We were picking out a ring.
And tomorrow, I’d propose.
The thought had my heart racing. I knew now that Mia wanted a family, from what she’d told me when we talked about her breakup with Austin. She wanted to get married. She wanted to have kids. And it didn’t matter that our little engagement was going to be fake.
I wanted to make it memorable for her.
There had to be a part of her that didn’t love this, even if it was saving her album release and helping with the tour. She wanted the real thing, not something pretend.
So, I’d do my best to give her what she deserved.
As for me, this would likely be the only time I had this experience — fake or otherwise.
I would never admit it out loud, not to myself or to anyone else, but I longed for a family, too. I wondered what it would feel like to have a woman to come home to after each game, to have a child or two running around a big house. What would I teach them? How would I show them a home life better than I had? What part of me would live in them?
That was always where the fantasy ended.
Because when I thought aboutthat,about how they’d be stuck with my genes, it stopped me from dreaming. The dream became a nightmare.
I didn’t want to subject any woman to a lifetime of putting up with me, and I couldn’t stomach the thought of failing as a father to an innocent child.
Mia looked a bit green in my kitchen as Isabella ran over the plan for today. I wondered what was going through her mind, if her thoughts were as chaotic as mine right now. Her bronze arms were folded over her middle, hair tied into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a Dodgers baseball cap, an oversized t-shirt, and black biker shorts — the hem of which disappeared under her shirt and made me wonder if she was even wearing pants when she first showed up.
Isabella and the team had managed to sneak her in without anyone being the wiser, but now, paparazzi had been tipped off that I was having a jeweler come to my condo, and they were camped out downstairs waiting to get proof of it.
It was Mia’s first time in my place here in Tampa. She’d visited a few times when I lived in Seattle, but never here.
It was crazy how she could make a condo feel like a home just by walking through the door.
Maybe it was because we grew up together. Maybe it was because in that big house in Chicago, she was the warmth andcomfort that made it not feel intimidating. Whatever the reason, having her here in my space again brought a familiar, nostalgic ache to my chest.
I watched her as she took it all in, as her gaze snagged on each piece of furniture and décor.
I was a simple man. I didn’t need much, nor did I want it. If I was being honest, my main goal was to keep my place clean for when I brought a woman home with me. Most of the items that filled my space were picked out by my interior designer and had very little to do with my preferences.
But Mia seemed to know what was mine and what wasn’t. Her gaze skimmed over the brown leather sectional in my living area, but they locked on the plush cream bean bag. She didn’t give a second glance to the art on the wall, but she smiled a little at the coffee table — one made from an old World War II war ship door. And her eyes particularly dazzled at the Steinway in the corner of my main living area, the seat of which faced the Hillsborough River.
Could I ever tell her I bought that piano for her, just in case she ever came to see me, just in case she ever needed to play?
“Alright, he’s parking,” Isabella said, shooting off a text to whoever it was who’d let her know that about the jeweler. “Aleks, you ready?”
I saluted her, heading toward my door, but I paused next to Mia.
“Areyouready?”
She blinked, turning her tired eyes toward me. I couldn’t even imagine the whirlwind week she’d had. My summer break was coming to an end, the guys and I using time we’d rented at a local rink to get ready for training camp next month. But Mia had been flying back and forth across the country for interviews, events, and live performances — all while continuing to plan and train for her tour that would start in October.
I wondered if she ever stopped to consider just how damn impressive she was. If I had to guess, the answer was no. She’d always been oblivious to her natural talent and drive that so many people wished for.
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head as if coming out of a dream. “I was just asking myself what woman would come up here and actually sleep with you after seeing that a grown-ass man has abean bagin his living room.”
“Hey, that thing is fucking comfy. Sit on it and you’ll see.”
“Ew.” She wrinkled her nose. “I absolutely will not. I don’t want to know what you do on thatcomfything.”
I smirked. “Don’t worry — I haven’t fucked anyone on it. Yet.”
