Page 63 of The Fake Out

The chicken on the stove popped, startling her, and she pulled away slightly, so I released her and let her deal with the food. Though I did it begrudgingly, because honestly, I hated letting her go. She scooped the food onto two plates, and I took them from her hands.

“Want to grab drinks?” I suggested.

“Sure, what do you want?” she asked, opening the fridge as I moved around the bar to the table.

“Water,” I called over my shoulder.

A second later, she appeared with a bottle of water and one glass of white wine.

“Did you have a plan for dinner? I see you got food,” she asked, worrying her bottom lip as she dropped into her seat.

“My only firm plan was to eat with you.” I reached across the table to place my hand over hers. I couldn’t care less what we ate. The important part was that we got to talk.

My eyes landed on the Revs logo on her chest.

“What?” she asked.

I couldn’t explain it. Like it somehow marked her as mine, even though she wasn’t wearing my Revs jersey. Although I’d really like my name on her back. It was an idea that had been making my brain itch since I’d seen her standing next to Avery, who was sporting Chris’s 35. I wanted to see 21 resting above her breast and blasted across her back.

I shook my head. “I just like seeing you in Revs blue.”

She flushed slightly, the corner of her mouth pulling up, and my heart pinched. I loved making her smile.

“You should eat before it gets cold.” She nodded at my plate and pulled her hand away to pick up her fork, but she didn’t take a bite. I picked up my own and dug in. For something that aligned with a strict MLB meal plan, it sure tasted good.

I swallowed and reached for my water. “This is excellent.”

With a shrug, she ducked her head. “I learned to do a lot with veggies and chicken because it’s all Chris ate in high school.”

Understanding worked its way through me. She and I had both shouldered a lot of the responsibility for our siblings and homes when we were in high school.

Now that I’d had that first bite, it hit me how hungry I was, so I scooped another bite onto my fork.

“Emerson.”

I paused with the fork halfway to my mouth. “Yes, Mariposa?”

“Can we talk about last night?”

I set my fork down. The food could wait. “I definitely want to.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You do?”

I nodded, swallowing back the nerves threatening to silence me. “I know we said one night, but I’d really like to change that.”

“Really?” Her eyes went wide. “I was thinking the same thing.” She wet her lips and let out a relieved breath.

I nodded, not fighting the smile that overtook my face. It felt so fucking good to know we were on the same page.

She cleared her throat, her lips trembling as she gave me a small smile. “And I understand your reasons for not wanting anything serious…”

I had meant those things when I said them yesterday. But today? Shit, I wasn’t sure I did anymore.

“I understand that if Chris finds out, that will mess things up for you, so he never needs to know.”

Holding my breath, I assessed her. Was she serious? I didn’t see how that would be the case. There was no way I wanted to hide a relationship from her father or her brother. Or my friends or family. Secret relationships did not serve to create solid foundations. I forced myself to breathe again, but before I could tell her that, she continued.

“I mean.” She swallowed, her breaths coming out a little shaky. “I figured that if we extended the fling until I move back to New York…”

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