“Well, yeah, there’s that. But where’s the fun in that?”
She huffs out an annoyed breath, and then our breakfast is served, effectively ending that part of our conversation. Still, I bring it back up mid-meal.
“Are you okay?” I ask, a little worried about how this sort of thing might affect her long-term.
“I don’t like it, but I can’t change it. I’m just trying to force my eggs down over the nausea I feel.”
“From the vodka?” I guess.
She shakes her head and nods at her phone. “From those pictures of us.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, it is. People do this. They see an athlete or celebrity, and they take advantage of the situation. I thought we were protected in the dark. It was a corner booth. People were occupied with their drinking and dancing. But I’ve been in this field long enough that I should’ve fought the instincts I had to be with you in that moment. I should’ve warned you that something like this could happen.”
She presses her lips together and sets her fork down. “Is this what it’s like being with you?”
“It is,” I admit. “But it’s not all bad.” I lift a shoulder. “We could use it to our advantage, you know.”
Her brows dip together. “How?”
I hold my hands up and look into the distance as I make a sort of rainbow with my hands to indicate the new headline. “San Diego Storm Star Running Back’s Fiancée Has a Secret Identity as Bestselling Romance Author Summer Love.”
Her brows that were already close together seem to pinch a little tighter. “Are you saying we should reveal my identity to the world?”
I shake my head. “Not if you’re not ready for it. But I have a platform, and I’d be more than happy to use it to tell the world about my favorite author.”
“You’d do that for me?”
I reach across the table and grab her hand. I squeeze it gently, and my voice is quiet as I say, “Don’t you know by now that I would do anything for you, Soph?”
She blinks a few times as her eyes shine at me, and then she swipes at her cheek with her thumb. “I do.”
“Good. Don’t forget it.”
CHAPTER 30: Sophie Summers
Creating Birthday Memories
The Friday we get back from Vegas is my thirtieth birthday, and honestly, I haven’t spent much time thinking about it.
I see the pictures on Facebook of my high school friends who are getting married and having babies, and I feel a twinge in my chest that they’re getting that while I’m pushing that life further down the road as I do whatever it is I’m doing with Miller. We’re getting married, sure.
Babies?
No. He’s pretty convinced he doesn’t even want kids, and I was never really all that sure. But the more I see photos of my friends holding their newborns moments after giving birth, the more I think I want that life, too.
I want a baby I can post pictures of. Not just to post pictures of, but to create a legacy with another person out of love, to be a mother who loves another being so selflessly and unconditionally, to give myself a new purpose and meaning as I shift into an entirely new role.
And I want a husband who adores me—who’s marrying me because we’re in love, not because he’s trying to help out an old friend.
More and more, I think we could get there. Thisfeelslike more than friends with benefits, and I already had a deep love for Miller because of the strong foundation we built over the years.
I’m not sure I can go through with a wedding that isn’t real when the feelings I’m starting to feel for him areveryreal.
But I’m also not sure I’m brave enough to have that conversation with him.