Page 144 of Beauty
Now, we just have to tell her brothers.
FORTY-SIX
SIENNA
My affair with the Bolts’winger made the following week of travel more exciting than it had any right to be. On the plane, we worked to find moments alone so we could press soft, urgent kisses against each other’s mouths. We resorted to grazing pinkies during press conferences and sneaking glances during Gavin’s locker room speeches. One evening, while he was out with the guys, I broke into his room and waited for him in nothing but his jersey. When he returned, we stayed up all night teasing orgasms from one another.
That night on his couch, he told me he wanted to be my husband, and with every day that passes, I want it more.
I’m in love with him. I just haven’t told him yet.
Not that he’s said the words either. I just know it’s how we both feel. Before we can go down that path, though, we need a concrete plan for how to deal with our jobs and my family and Ollie.
Every night during the trip, he called his little guy, and more often than not, he’d ask to talk to me. Noah would pretend to send me a text, and I’d wait a minute or two before opening and closing the door and popping into the frame to say hello.
The two of them have become part of my every day, and I want a future with Ollie just as badly as I want it with Noah. They’re becoming my family. My oldest brother taught me long ago that family comes first, and that’s why my plan for tonight is an absolute no-brainer.
“You stole a plane?”
“I didn’t steal a plane.” I sigh. “It’s a Langfield plane, and I’m a Langfield.” With a sweep of a hand, I gesture to the private jet that I did, in fact, commandeer for the evening. “Ergo, it’s my plane.”
Noah chuckles. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, baby.”
As if the simple conversation has alerted him, Beckett’s name flashes on my screen.
Beckett: did you steal the Falcon?
Oh my god, he’s so dramatic.
Me: it’s our plane. I’m merely using it.
Beckett: Okay. For what?
Me: Ollie has a T-ball tourney tomorrow, and if Noah had to fly commercial, he’d never make it there and back before the charity event tomorrow night.
I bite my thumb, my pulse picking up as I wait for my brother’s response.
Shit. We’re still on the tarmac. If he contacts the pilot and grounds us, I’ll be royally pissed. It’s close to midnight already, and as it is, I’m lucky the pilot agreed to fly so late. I would have loved to leave earlier, but this was as early as we could get here after tonight’s game.
The tournament tomorrow should be over by noon, which means we’ll have no trouble being back in Michigan before the charity skate at six.
Honestly, it’s brilliant. And what’s the point of having all this money if we can’t help out our friends? Ollie is going to be thrilled, and that’s all I truly care about.
Beckett: why didn’t you tell me? Where is it?
I frown at the phone.
Noah bumps my arm. “What?”
I shake my head and give him a small smile. The last thing I want is to stress him out. I’ll make this happen one way or another. “Beckett wants to know where Ollie’s tournament is.”
Noah frowns. “Why?”
Good question.
Me: why?
Beckett: We’ll all come. You know nothing is more important than family. Besides, the Revs are always looking for new players.
