Page 57 of Miami Ice

I can’t contain the smile on my face. As we begin to walk through the house, one thought echoes through my head.

This could be his new home and part of his new start in Miami.

And maybe I could be a part of that, too.

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m so glad you loved the house,” Sofia says, prepping a large salad in a bowl. “And a month from now you’ll own it, Little Brother!”

I’m hearing what she’s saying, but my eyes are on Beckham. We’re over at the house he’s rented for Sofia and Aaron, having dinner and going over our official launch plans for next week.

I’m standing next to Sofia in the airy kitchen, but I’m watching Beckham play with his nieces in the living room. Right now, he’s tossing Stella in the air and catching her, and she’s squealing happily in response.

“Yes. And you’ll be free to leave me to my own devices and manage my fake relationship from Atlanta,” Beckham says dryly.

“You promised you’d be serious about this,” Sofia warns, pausing and staring at him. “I’m giving you both detailed instructions for what is going to happen this week. It’s important we get this launch right.”

“Me!” Lucy cries, throwing her arms up to Beckham. “My turn!”

My heart melts as Beckham dips Stella upside down and plants a huge kiss on her cheek, which elicits the cutest giggle I’ve ever heard. I think my heart just melted a bit.

I love that Beckham is the man bringing these children so much pure joy. And from the look on his face, the feeling is mutual.

“Your turn, Luce,” he says, scooping her up, which causes a burst of giggles to escape her lips.

“I’m trusting you to keep him focused when I’m in Atlanta,” Sofia says softly. “Would you mind picking up those oven mitts and getting the lasagna from the oven for me?”

“Of course,” I say, sidestepping her request to keep Beckham in line.

Because so far, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.

He’s done everything Sofia has asked him to, but more than that? He’s doing things I never expected. Like agreeing to get milkshakes with me. Asking me to take a look at a house and give him my opinion.

If anything, he’s being more than agreeable. And it’s of his choosing.

I open the door to the oven, and I’m greeted by the delicious scent of red sauce. I love a good red sauce. Growing up, Mom always used a jar sauce, which is fine—but the first time I had dinner at Chloe’s house? When her mom spent all day making red sauce from scratch for spaghetti?

There’s no comparison. It was life-changing.

And Sofia’s lasagna smells the same way.

I lift out the heavy dish and set it on the range. The cheese is bubbling on top, with browning, and those are the best bits. Well, actually, I lied. The best bits are the edges of the pasta that get a little bit crunchy. That’s the best bit.

“This looks delicious,” I say. I turn to look at her. “Is it too forward to reserve a corner piece for myself? I’m a bit obsessed with the crunchy pasta edge.”

“I didn’t know you could make a reservation for an edge of lasagna,” Beckham calls out from the living room.

I grin. “Yes, you can. I’ve already booked the right-hand corner of lasagna for myself. If you want a crunchy edge, I suggest you put in your reservation for one of the three remaining corners before they are fully booked out. Then you’ll be left with a middle piece, and that’s a bit disappointing when you could have had the joy of a crunchy lasagna edge.”

“Do I need to go online to get this?” he teases. “Reserve two corners for Beckham Bailey at six-thirty?”

“Two corners? One for you and your date? Are you cheating on me already?” I tease back.

“You obviously haven’t dated an athlete. I need two pieces. Make a note of that for future reference, Cupcake.”

I become aware of Sofia staring at me. I meet her gaze, and she’s watching me with that curious expression on her face again.

“Interesting,” she says quietly.

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