Page 62 of The Proximity Factor

I shifted, anxious to ask, “Do you still want to be a dad?”

“That sounds like an offer, Lanie.” His sexy tone caught me off guard. “Are you offering?”

I swallowed down my wildly beating heart before I could respond. Had I sounded like I was offering myself as a tribute? I think that’s exactly how I had sounded. “Um ... well ... when it comes to making babies, I’m kind of an old-fashioned girl. But if down the road we decide to make this a forever thing, then yes. I would love to make you a daddy. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“If you and I become a forever thing like you say, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than to make a baby with you.”

It felt as if someone had cranked up the sun. I could barely breathe for all the tender yet sensual thoughts running through my mind. “I was thinking like three or four babies.” He should probably know that.

He gave me a crooked smile. “Three or four sounds good.”

I let go of his face. “Sounds like we’re on the same page.” Someone get me some ice, please.

“Sounds like it.”

“Should we go?” If we didn’t, I might offer him some things I wasn’t ready for yet.

“You haven’t told me your biggest disappointment,” he reminded me.

“Mine sounds silly compared to yours.”

“I still want to hear it.”

“Okay, but I warned you. So, when I was little, my daddy told me I was magical and could make people feel better just by hugging them. Daddy was sick a lot so I would always hug him, and he always got better, or so I thought. But when I was eight, he got really sick and had to stay in the hospital for several days. Every day, I would go to the hospital and hug on him and hug on him,” my voice cracked. “But he seemed to get worse. Then I overheard one doctor say he would never fully recover. It broke my heart.” I still felt the sting of it. “That’s when I knew I wasn’t really magical. Silly, right?”

Parker wiped a tear that had leaked out from the corner of my eye. “There’s nothing silly about that. Your dad was right. You are magical, Lanie. You heal people’s souls.” He rested a hand on my cheek, and I leaned into it, feeling the magic of his words. And I felt something else too—love.

Yes, I loved Parker.

FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS WERE JUST a way of life in the South, and Goldenville was no exception. The entire town packed the stands of the small high school stadium in the sweltering heat, only tempered by the sun starting to set. Behind me, disgruntled men and women complained about the season starting a week earlier than it should have. They were calling for the state athletic association’s heads for this grave injustice. You would have thought someone robbed the only bank in town, the way they were going on and on about it. A few months ago I would have found the conversation trite and probably left, but a few months ago, I didn’t know Lanie.

She waved at me from the field, all smiles. Dressed in white chino shorts and a body-hugging black polo shirt embroidered with a gold Coach Davenport. Just the sight of her made my heart erratically spike like some pubescent boy’s. I wasn’t complaining. There was no one more beautiful or as magical as Lanie. I wasn’t the only one to think so. Several people in the stands had already told me how lucky I was to be dating such a great girl—the greatest girl, in their summation. If ever there were such a thing as a hometown sweetheart, Lanie was it.

I waved back, realizing how much I’d missed her. We had spent no real time together since Tuesday night, when I’d signed the lease on my new apartment. Other than that, it was quick cups of coffee together in the morning and kisses hello and goodbye. Work had consumed me this week to the point that most nights I didn’t make it home until after she’d gone to bed. Those nights, I watched her sleep for a minute or two before kissing her brow. It was suddenly hitting me how much I was going to miss those simple everyday moments. This revelation created a pit in my stomach like I’d never experienced.

But what could I do about it? I knew living together outside of the experiment wasn’t an option for Lanie. I found myself thinking I would do those stupid video diaries every day if it meant Lanie and I could stay in the cottage together. I would even let her organize my Pop-Tarts and put throw pillows on my bed.

Mrs. Davenport interrupted my thoughts as she came shuffling down the aisle wearing her Goldenville Miners gold jersey and hat, carrying a mega-size cup of Diet Coke.

I was saving her a space next to me on the uncomfortable metal bleachers after she’d told me she had to tinkle and get a drink before the game started. I had to say she was growing on me. Even if she mentioned every time she saw me that Reba McEntire’s song “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” could become biographical if I wasn’t careful with her daughter. If you’re wondering, it’s a song about a woman shooting someone and burying the body, never to be found again. But after bringing up the aforementioned song, Mrs. Davenport would laugh, pinch my cheeks, and offer to make me potato salad. She’d even brought me some potato salad for dinner that I’d inhaled upon my arrival. I was worrying less and less that she’d poisoned it.

After chatting with every person in the row, Mrs. Davenport finally plopped down next to me. “Did you miss me?” she teased.

I was a smart enough man to say, “Yes.”

“I almost believe that.” She elbowed me for good measure.

I smiled, keeping my focus on Lanie as she gave her squad a pep talk.

“We need to get you a jersey and a hat,” Goldie whispered. “You look too much like a city slicker who knows nothing about football. Please,” she begged, “do not let that get out. You’d better cheer at the appropriate times and act offended when the refs make awful calls. Got it?”

I nodded. I knew the rules of football and even what every position was. After all, I’d married into a family who were close friends with the owners of the Atlanta Falcons. I couldn’t count how many football games Maren had dragged me to over the years. But this was the first time I’d willingly gone to one.

“Got it,” I assured her, before adding, “It’s fun to see Lanie in her element.”

I thought that would have earned me some points, but Mrs. Davenport’s pinched brow and quizzical expression said otherwise. “I’m not sure this is her element.”

Unsure if I had heard her correctly, I tilted my head. Lanie was the ultimate cheerleader, on and off the field. Cheering was in her blood, it seemed. Besides, everyone loved her in this town. Goldenville even had a monogram shop on Main Street. Lanie took monogramming seriously—towels, pillows, clothes, you name it.

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