Page 20 of Tight End
Marissa was coming. Finally. After a week of half texts, time zones, and distance, she was coming.
And I was losing my fucking mind waiting.
Whenever I thought about the last time I saw her—walking away from me without a kiss goodbye, leaving behind a note—I felt that raw panic crawl back up my throat.
And I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw her.
I’d sworn to myself that I’d keep it together when she showed up.Be calm. Reasonable. I wouldn’t growl at her and tear her clothes off the second she walked through the door and fuck her until she forgot how to leave.
But I was dead serious about blocking that fucking door if she tried. I didn’t want to scare the hell out of her. But I wasn’t going to lose her either.
My fists clenched at my sides. I’d replayed that night with her a thousand times in my head. Every sound she made. Every curve under my hands. The way she looked at me like I’d wrecked her and she liked it. How her mouth formed my name when she came.
I wasn’t good at this. At waiting. Wondering. At not knowing what the hell she was thinking.
I was still pacing when I heard the elevator hum outside the private entry, followed by a soft chime. My body went still as I waited for the knock.
When I heard two quick taps, I opened the door…and there she was.
Fuck me, I was gone all over again.
Marissa stood in the hallway looking like sin and salvation all wrapped in one tired, wary, beautiful package. Worn out and pale, yeah, but still stunning. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, her posture tight, but her lips lifted slightly when she saw me. Not a smile, just a subtle curve that cracked something wide open in my chest.
"Hey," she greeted softly.
My hands twitched at my sides. I wanted to haul her in and kiss her senseless, but she looked like she might topple over if I breathed too hard.
“Come in.”
I stepped back to let her inside, closing the door behind her. She looked around the space like she wasn’t sure where to land.
“Long flight?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep much.”
I led her toward the living room. “Sit.”
She eased down onto the couch, and I dropped onto the coffee table across from her. Close enough to reach her. And to see the fine tremble in her hands.
“Did you eat?”
She shrugged. “Sort of.”
My jaw ticked. I didn’t like hearing that but kept that to myself for the moment.
She shifted slightly. “How’s The Tight Line coming along?”
“Good. We’re almost ready for the soft launch at the end of April. Kitchen’s fully stocked, and the signage goes up next week. Then the grand opening will be in mid-May. We have a press event next weekend, but Micah’s handling that.”
She gave a small nod. “Sounds like everything’s on track.”
I tilted my head, about to ask what was really going on with her—but then she blurted, “I’m pregnant.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
My brain short-circuited for a second as everything else faded. The words hung there, quiet and explosive all at once.
Pregnant.
