Page 18 of Tight End
Raiden
You’re back.
My breath hitched. I hadn’t even given him my flight number, but there wasn’t a hint of doubt in those two words.
I tightened my grip on my suitcase handle so hard my knuckles ached. Him somehow knowing exactly when I returned to New York without having to tell him made me feel wanted. Claimed, even.
But his message was also a reminder of the news I needed to share with him.
I typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Tried again.
Erased that too.
I’d been struggling with what to say to him ever since I saw those two little pink lines. I finally gave up and went with the simplest response possible.
Me
Yes.
I made it to the front of the line before he replied and climbed into the cab, sinking against the seat as the driver pulled away from the curb. My reflection looked pale and tired in the window, and I rested a hand over my abdomen without thinking.
Now that I was almost home, my exhaustion overtook me, and I fell asleep. When the driver announced we’d arrived, I startled hard enough that my stomach twisted again.
“Sorry,” I muttered, using the app to pay before hauling myself and my suitcase onto the sidewalk.
The chill slapped me awake for all of two seconds. It didn’t help much. I was still wiped when I rolled my suitcase into my apartment. Every muscle in my body felt stretched too thin.
When I pushed my door open, the faint scent of stale air greeted me. I stepped inside and felt weird that everything looked the same while I felt completely different.
My phone rang before I even set down my tote bag. I nearly dropped it when I saw my boss’s name.
“Marissa Crane.”
“Hey, Marissa!” Roger greeted. “How was the trip?”
“Long,” I admitted, sinking onto the edge of my bed. My mattress dipped under me, and I wanted nothing more than to lie down and never get up again.
“Well, all that work paid off. The coverage was fantastic. Upper management is thrilled.”
I barely resisted the urge to sprawl on top of my comforter. “That’s great to hear.”
“We want to start testing you on some bigger sports pieces.” He paused for effect. “Football segments. Maybe some baseball when the season starts. Think you can handle that?”
A surge of excitement perked me up.
“Wow,” I managed. “That’s…amazing.”
“Fans loved your banter with Raiden Shaffer. We’re planning to lean into that momentum for your next assignments.”
“Right,” I murmured, my throat tightening.
I was about to tell that same tight end I was pregnant with his baby after our one night together, and the network was alreadytrying to turn us into a marketing angle before they knew we would be forever connected.
He rattled on about next steps and scheduling, but the words blurred. By the time we hung up, I felt like someone had wrung me out and left me on the floor to dry.
