Page 93 of Perfect Playbook

My heart beats in my shoes now. The walls of the restaurant crumble, and I’m losing gravity. I don’t know if I’m going to pass out or float away.

“Most of Logan’s women were setups. Of course he’s not a saint.”

Rio and Santiago glance at each other, deciding to keep some details to themselves.

“But it’s mostly a PR stunt, his image. The guy’s a liar,” Rio says.

I could piss myself right now with relief, even though a part of me cringes thinking about Logan having sex with other women, which is the detail that clearly possessed my brothers’ shared gaze. But they only found out what I already know.

“He told me that already. I don’t care if he lies to everyone else to build a brand as long as he’s honest with me.”

“You don’t?” Rio says, like I’m being stupid.

“No. Not really.”

We all wear different faces. The one you show the world. The one you show family. And the one you never show anyone.

It’s the last we all want so badly to be seen. When someone stares into the eyes of the third face and still loves you, it’s true. It’s forever. It’s real. And it’s what I think I can have with Logan.

Somehow, no matter how much I push him away orplay the tough-girl act, he sees me for my vulnerable, genuine self. And he never lets me fall.

They are practical men, so I play on that. “Guys, I’m married to Logan. So it’s pretty black and white as far as I see it. You either accept him and we all build something bigger from it, or you continue to be suspicious and annoy the hell out of me every time I see you.”

I eat some food, more to quell my nerves than to satiate hunger. The rise in defensiveness over Logan shows just how much I care. I’ve fallen for that man all over again.

Rio hums pensively. I hate it when he does that. Truly, truly hate it. He’s such a know-it-all, but the scary thing is he’s often been right in my life.

Rio tilts his head and stares at me. “That’s true.”

He dips a piece of pita bread into a Mediterranean dip. “Well then, we have to roll with it. All four of us are back next week. As far as you’re concerned, we got you. But don’t blame us for giving a little evil eye. It’s good to keep Logan on his toes.”

“You guys can’t help yourselves. I know. Your resting expressions are… well, I just bet Mom was scared when your mugs arrived in this world.”

Santi tips his beer toward me. “Hey, these mugs got your back every day of the week,nena. You’ll always be our little sister.” He finally gives me a smile I really need right now.

I trace the rim of my water glass. “I know. Thanks for your concern, but I’m happy. He’s good to me. Really, really treats me and Antonio like his number one priority.”

It’s true. Since the moment Logan and I embarked on this crazy agreement, I’ve wanted for nothing. I can go grocery shopping with his credit card and for once say yes to all Antonio’s requests. Logan stocks the house with cheeselesstreats, and when he’s away, sends Tom over to check all the windows and locks. All I need is more time with his body.

Santi reassures me. “We’re happy for you. We really are. And happy for Nino, too. He needs a dad.”

Thinking of Logan as Nino’s father only deepens how I feel about him. Logan really does fit every one of his edges into my puzzle except for one thing. He’s still playing a strong game, and I’m reminded of why we couldn’t be together in the first place. And why we’re together now—to keep Logan on the Scorpions.

I wish I had that romantic feeling inside people usually have when they find their other half, their missing piece. Instead, fear pools inside and I wonder if God has other plans for me like the first time around.

Chapter Thirty

Luis pickedup Antonio an hour before I had to leave for my game, and every minute ticked down in goddamn agony. Shay hit traffic on the way home, but I held out hope, not touching my aching cock in hopes of burying it inside her and giving her a dose of what it means to be missed by me.

Her text came in to go on ahead without her and that she’d meet me at the arena came through, I thought I was going to die. My balls were fucking hanging to the floor by the time I got to the arena. But worse than that, my attention was still firmly glued to my cell. I worried about her getting back all right and about getting to the game.

Unfortunately, I have to be at the arena hours before agame and all I can hope is that I get to see her for a few damn minutes. I don’t think I’ll be able to play tonight if I don’t hear from her beforehand. Or at least see her rink side.

I get back into the locker rooms after a kick around with a soccer ball, keeping warmed up, when my cell beeps in my pocket.

Pastelito

We’re here!

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