Page 112 of The Game Plan

“But I do,” she snaps, her eyes hard and cold. “I’d be perfectly happy if I never got asked how I’m doing again.”

It’s my turn to wince. Because I ask her every day. I’m hovering, annoying her with my concern. Her expression tells me that’sexactly what she’s thinking.

My head begins to pound along with my heart. I run a tired hand over my brow, not knowing what the fuck to say anymore.

Fi runs a finger along the grain in the marble countertop. “I was on the phone too. Talking to my mom.”

I’ve met Fi’s mom twice. Fi has her coloring, but Ivy has her features. I’m looking forward to meeting her as Fiona’s man,but I don’t think that’s what this conversation is about. Instinct has me bracing for impact.

Fi’s gaze flicks to mine. “She asked me to come to London.”

“London. Now?” The pounding in my heart gets harder, faster.

Fi shrugs, studies the marble. “I could go out there. Do things. Not be trapped.”

Trapped like she is here with me.

I run a hand through my beard and discover my fingers are trembling. “I can’t go with you right now, Fi.”

She doesn’t look up. “I know.”

I’ve been hit by three-hundred-pound men intent on mowing me down—that hurts less than those two flat words. She doesn’t wantme to come.

Her voice is soft when she speaks, as if she’s trying to spare my feelings. “You once said we should take a step back until things blow over.”

“And you told me I was wrong.”Tell me I’m wrong again. Fight for us.

“Maybe you were right.”

My throat clogs, and I struggle to clear it. “You said you didn’t want to be apart.”

“I didn’t—don’t. But this—” she gestures to the windows and the world outside them “—is no way to live.”

“So stop hiding. Let’s go out there, and fuck what anyone thinks.”

Her eyes flash, deep green and angry. “Easy for you to say.”

“It isn’t easy at all, Fi. This whole thing fucking kills me.”

“Then help me,” she says, leaning toward me, her slim body tight and tense. “I can’t stand this, Ethan.”

I can’t look at her. Not without losing it.

“It’s not forever,” she says.

She’s right. It’s just a trip, not the end. But it feels like it. I have a sickening fear that the second she walks out mydoor, she’ll be lost to me.

I want to fight for her. Insist that she be with me. But I can’t be selfish. If I force her to stay, I’ll lose her anyway.Fi isn’t an object. She’s the woman I love. And if she needs her mother right now, that’s what she’ll get.

I swallow hard, and it feels like I’m drinking down chunks of glass. When I talk, my stomach turns over.

“Let me know when you want to go, and I’ll book you a flight.”

Forty-Two

Dex

I go to bed first and wait in the dark for Fi to finish up in the bathroom. I used to sleep sprawled out, dead center in mybed. No more. I have a side now—the left, which is closest to the door. I chose it because of some deep instinctual need toplace myself between Fi and any possible harm that might come into the room. Won’t matter much when she goes to London.

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