“We want you to do it.” Cassie reached over and grasped Aileen’s hands in hers.
“I’m fired/quit,” she said, deciding that combo worked best to describe her current unemployed status. “Why don’t you use the guy who did your interview with your dad when you guys first—”
“Different situation,” Trey cut her off. “We want you.”
There was only one thing she had to know. “Why?”
“Because you’re good,” Killian said. She looked over and found him staring straight at the floor, his arms crossed defensively. “You’re honest, you’ve got integrity, and you’ll respect their boundaries. They trust you.” He looked at her then, his eyes burning with words unsaid.
Words she hoped sounded like I trust you, too. But maybe that was wishful—hopeful—thinking on her part.
She squeezed Cassie’s hand and let go. “Yeah, sure. What do you want me to do with it afterward?”
“That’s up to you. However you best see fit. Use it as leverage for a new job at a station or network, go freelance and get paid for it solo, totally up to you. We trust you’ll do what’s right with it.” Trey hugged Cassie to his side and kissed the top of her head. “We just want things out in the open so we can move on and have a life together.”
Aileen’s smile widened, and her eyes stung a little. It was sort of beautiful, watching two adults who’d found each other despite the odds, making it work and carving out their own path with their bare hands. “I’ll ask questions.”
“I figured you would,” Trey shot back.
“Some, you won’t like.”
“I figured I wouldn’t.”
“I’ll annoy you.”
“Starting now?” he asked, blinking innocently when she laughed.
Throwing her hands in the air, she conceded. “Fine, fine. Let me get my tripod and camera. It’s going to be informal, I guess. Low-tech and—thanks to my menial editing skills—not all that visually stimulating. Are you wearing that?”
Cassie looked down at their outfits. Both wore T-shirts—Trey’s a broken in-Bobcats shirt; Cassie’s, a shirt with a waving flag carrying the word “Nerd”—and jeans. Though Trey had kept his running shoes on. “We want it to be casual. Like it’s no big deal that we’re dating, so we didn’t get all glossed out to do the interview. Just a casual one-on-one with a friend.”
“Two-on-one, but gotcha. Works for me.” She moved them over to the couch and asked them to hold still for a while while she fixed up the tripod and some lamps. “Killian, are you staying?”
“Just consider me your assistant.”
She glanced toward Trey and Cassie, cuddling on the couch, and lowered her voice. “Where’s Charlie?”
“Emma got him early this morning.” He hadn’t bothered to lower his voice at all. “Before that, Irene babysat him while I was at the game, and Mrs. Reynolds while I was at practice.” When she blinked in surprise, he added, “Irene Jordan, Coach’s daughter?”
“Yeah, I . . . oh.” When she glanced back at the couch, Trey and Cassie were smiling widely at them, clearly in on the situation. “So they know about Charlie.”
“They do, and a few others. I’m not going nuts like these two and broadcasting his existence, but its time to stop being scared about it when I’m with people I trust.” He brushed a hand over her cheek, working his way around to the back of her neck to cup her head. “We’ll talk about it later. But just know . . .” He kissed her gently before stepping back. “I’m done with secrets.”
“Oh,” she breathed. It wasn’t quite the declaration of love she’d hoped for, but it was something more than she’d had five minutes ago. Something to build on. “Okay, well . . . if you’re staying, can you run down to the manager’s office and confiscate two lamps?”
As he gave her a little cheeky salute and headed out the door, she blew out a breath. Time to make some magic.
And then, time to do it all over again. With Killian.
* * *
Killian and Aileen waved good-bye to Cassie and Trey as they headed out her door, letting it close behind them. She flopped onto the couch with an exhausted huff. “That was insane.”
“That was . . . actually fun.” He sat next to her, pulling her feet into his lap. She’d kicked off the dressy flats an hour earlier, and he rubbed a thumb against her arch. She purred, the sound sending a bolt of lightning straight to his groin. “Different being on your side of the camera. No wonder you like it.”
“You were just an assistant. When you’re the one calling the shots, asking the questions, and trying to coax the right answers out, it’s not so much fun as a big puzzle that you’re not allowed to lose.” Her eyes sank closed and she nudged at his wrist with her other foot. “Switch, please.”
He did.
“Do you miss him when he’s gone?” she asked quietly after a minute had passed.
“All the time. He’s a cool kid.” He waited for her to shift and settle back down. “He loves Legos and the Avengers. He’s awesome with numbers, but hates spelling. Identical to me when I was that age.”
“He’s exactly what I think of when I try to picture you as a kid.”
“You’ll meet him next visit.” When she didn’t answer that, he looked at her. She was watching him with intensity, but no hint of where her mind was heading. “If you want to, that is. Do you like kids?”
“I do, for the few I’ve had interaction with.” She slid her feet from his lap and sat up, putting a distance between them he didn’t care for. “Killian, I feel like we’re skipping a dozen steps here. There’s still stuff I don’t know, that you don’t know, that—”
“I know you never would have run the story about Charlie, even before we first made love,” he interrupted, wanting to get through the worst of it before she could argue. “I know I should have trusted you sooner. I know your job and my job together might make things awkward from time to time, and I know I don’t care.”
“Killian—”
“I know that the last week without having you near me sucked so much, I was ready to come kidnap you in the middle of the night just to have you near me.”
She breathed in deeply, but didn’t try to interrupt.
“And I know I love you,” he finished quietly, watching her eyes widen in shock. “I know I could have really broken something forever—or maybe I did—and I’m too stubborn to admit it. But I know I won’t give up on us yet.”
When she just watched him, leaning forward a bit as if anticipating another round, he nodded. “Okay. So . . . that’s what I know.”
That’s what I know? He’d had a week to prepare for seeing her again, and the best closing line he could come up with was, That’s what I know?
“Do you want to know what I know?” she asked primly, not reaching for him.
Damn. “Maybe,” he said warily. She laughed, and he prayed it was a good sign.
“I know you were hiding your son for good reason. I know your son’s needs, wants, and overall well-being come first, no matter what. I know you were doing what you thought was best, and I can’t fault you for it. Yes, it hurt to realize you didn’t trust me, but I know I’m not a parent, and until I am, I won’t understand the level of protection you feel for your own kid and how far that would push me.”
It was good. It was damn good so far. He started to haul her into his lap, but she stood and evaded him.
“I know I’m not done,” she said with enough bite he didn’t give chase. His butt sank back down into the worn cushion. “And I know we have a long way to go, you and I.”
“Are we done with the ‘I know’s’?” he asked irritably.
She scowled. “You started it.”
“I know,” he said without thinking, then rolled his eyes when she snorted a laugh. “Come here.” He bounded off the couch and tackled her, taking her down onto the mattress of the bed. Tiny apartments had their advantages. The bed was always mere steps away. Laying on their sides, he ran his hand from her shoulder to her
hip, pulling her into him. Even their emotional conversation couldn’t staunch the erection he seemed to perpetually have around her.
“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him softly. “Sorry, I’ll rephrase. I know I love you.”
“Freckles,” he growled, then rolled over her and pinned her to the mattress. “My having a kid doesn’t freak you out?”
“He’s a child, not an alien.” She blinked up at him. “Right?”
Killian punished the question with another kiss, this one long and sensual and so charged it was torture to break it off.
“We’ll ease into it. He sounds like a cool kid. I’m not looking to replace his mom, since it sounds like his mom’s not too bad. Maybe a little flakey,” she said, and he smiled at that. “But I’m not out to replace anyone. I just want to stand beside you.”
“That’s where I want you.” He glanced at her tripod, still set up, though empty of her camera that was now charging on her desk. “If those two knuckleheads can work out a relationship, there’s got to be a way for us.”
“There is.” She smiled and combed her fingers through his hair. “But we’ve got one problem.”
His gut tightened. “What?”
With a serious face, she said, “Your bowling . . . is atrocious.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Three months later . . .
Aileen sat on the floor, surrounded by toys and wrapping paper that littered the floor up to her elbows. “This is insane.”
“This is ah-mazing!” Charlie shrieked, diving into a pile of paper and ribbons. The colorful confection exploded and she closed her eyes before getting decked by a piece of Styrofoam.
Ernie—or Grandpa Ernie, as he’d insisted Charlie refer to him—and Mrs. Reynolds—Nanny R, at her request—had both left an hour ago to head home. As Aileen had suspected, they’d gotten along pretty well with one another. Little had she and Killian known they were each bringing a truckload of gifts for Charlie’s birthday. Between the haul he managed from his pseudo-grandparents, plus the gifts she and Killian had given him, he’d scored. Big time.
“Hey, buddy, come here.” She held out her arms, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as he crawled into her and nuzzled at her shoulder. He’d accepted her in Killian’s life as easily as she could have imagined any child. It probably helped that his mother had paved the way by starting to date someone seriously herself. From the sounds of it, Aileen wouldn’t be shocked to hear Emma report an engagement from their spring trip to Jamaica.
A trip she didn’t envy them for, as it meant Killian got to spend Charlie’s entire spring break—including Charlie’s actual birthday—with his son.
“You’re looking pretty spiffy in your new shirt, aren’t you?” She pulled Charlie back enough to look at his polo shirt. The shirt was royal blue with gold stitching. Bobcat colors, Charlie had proudly exclaimed as he’d pulled it from the box. His name was embroidered over the right breast pocket with a set of bowling pins. It matched the larger version both Aileen and Killian were wearing. Gifts from Ernie, who proclaimed them to be their own team now. And every team needed their own uniforms, didn’t they?
“When do we go bowling again?” Charlie asked, reaching down to grab a Transformer toy and pull it up into his lap.
Smoothing the hair from his brow, much like she often did with his father, she said, “Your dad’s beginner’s league is on Tuesday normally, but they’re breaking for spring break. We can go together, just us, the day after tomorrow if you want.”
“No bumpers this time,” he insisted.
“No bumpers,” she promised, inwardly grimacing. But hey, he’d learn.
“Lemonade is served. One with extra ice cubes and two regular.” Killian walked out from the kitchen and set three mugs on the coffee table in front of them. “Charlie, yours is the one with Star Wars.”
“I’m counting the ice cubes,” he announced, and sat up from Aileen’s lap to do so.
“And your drink,” Killian said with a fake British accent.
She took a careful sip. “Not bad.” Kissing him, she tasted the tartness on his lips. “When are you gonna FaceTime with Emma?”
“Waiting for her text. Her reception is spotty, so it’s up to her to find a good spot.” He brushed a finger over the stitching on his pocket. “These aren’t half bad. Think I could get an entire Bobcat bowling team going?”
She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder, watching the beginning credits of a Phineas and Ferb episode start.
“I love you.” He kissed her temple and draped an arm around her. Their backs rested against the couch cushions, their butts were padded by at least three inches of wrapping paper, and the apartment they now shared was a mess. But it was perfect pandemonium.
They watched as Charlie drank his lemonade and gave a running commentary on how illogical Phineas’ plan to build a time machine was. Aileen poked him with a sock-covered foot. “Quiet down in the peanut gallery.”
That sent him off on another spasm of giggles.
“He’s on a sugar high,” Killian muttered. “Emma better text soon, or she’s gonna be FaceTiming with a comatose Charlie.”
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “Kids are allowed to gorge on icing and candy for their birthday.”
“Charlie,” Killian prodded after a moment. “I think we forgot one gift.”
Aileen’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. Another one?”
Charlie’s grin was devilish as he raced into the master bedroom. She raised a brow at Killian, but he merely sent her an innocent shrug and a wink. His son was back a moment later, walking slowly and holding his hands very steady as he traipsed through the discarded, torn paper. Halting before Aileen, he extended his arms for her to take the gift.
“Mine?” she asked him, and he grinned and nodded with so much enthusiasm, it looked like it hurt his neck. “Sit down and help me.”
Charlie sat, but kept his hands to himself as she tore off the paper. In it, she found a framed photo of the article—okay, more of an opinion piece—she’d written after her interview with Trey and Cassie had hit mainstream media. The video had gone viral in under forty-eight hours, with networks calling to beg her for additional unedited versions or asking her to comment on the situation as she’d seen it. She’d declined, though she offered her services freelance, and was making a decent living shuttling herself to and from Phoenix for interviews with the Suns’ head coach and players. She’d written an opinion piece though, which the New York Times had printed.
She’d cried the morning it ran.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” The heavy silver frame and thick cream mat surrounding the article made her want to cry all over again. “You guys.” She held out an arm to Charlie, who sat back and shook his head. Stunned, she looked to Killian. “What’s wrong?”
“Not quite done. But why don’t you see how it’ll look next to the photo of your parents?” he prodded gently, pointing to the wall where she’d hung the photo from her old studio apartment. It was then she realized he’d shifted the framed photograph of her parents over a few inches to make room for her newly framed article.
She stood and held up the frame, frowning when it clinked. “Something’s loose, I think.” She rotated the frame and found a ring dangling from a ribbon attached to the back of the photo.
Eyes watering, she turned to Killian, who was down on his knees. He took her free hand.
“I know I love you,” he said, reminding her of their words not so long ago. “I know it’s early, but I know you’re the best woman for me. And I know we’ll be happy together. So, marry me?”
“And me!” Charlie shrieked, bouncing on the couch. “You marry us both!”
Carefully, so she didn’t injure the frame, she placed it on the ground by her feet. Then she leaned forward and kissed his lips softly. “You know I’m going to say yes.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at BELOW THE BELT, the first book in a new series from Jeanette Murray!<
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First Lieutenant Bradley Costa tossed his pack on the bed and sank to the mattress beside it. Fucking hell, what had he walked himself into?
Best—and most terrifying—opportunity of his life, that’s what. He stood and shook his hands, a habit he’d yet to break, to release the nerves. He couldn’t let it get to him, or else he’d be screwed before he hit the gym the first day of training camp.
A knock at his open door jarred him from his self-induced pity party. He turned and saw a guy holding his own ruck, wearing the similar civilian “uniform” of khakis and a button-down polo shirt he’d worn on his own trip to Camp Lejeune.
“Hey, you Costa?”
“Yeah.” Brad strode over to shake the outstretched hand. “You Higgs?”
“One and the same.” The other man grinned, then squeezed a little in friendly warning before letting go. He was an inch or two shorter than Brad, more wiry built. But there was strength in the grip, and Brad didn’t doubt the man could likely run circles around an opponent. Pushing past Brad, Higgs walked in and observed the tiny room, nodding in acceptance. “Seems we’re lucky roomies while we’re here.”
“Seems like.” Brad watched him warily. “I’ve claimed this one, yours is that way.” What the hell was this guy doing? The small single bedrooms of the BOQ were connected by a tiny sitting room and shared bathroom. Obviously, this was his room.
Making himself at home, Higgs tossed his pack next to Brad’s on the bed and sat in the chair. “I like company.”
Oh good. He got the Chatty Cathy for a roommate. He could wait it out. He went to his own ruck and started unpacking.
“So you think you’ll be here awhile, huh?”
God, he hoped so. He glanced up as he organized the top drawer with his workout gear. “Wouldn’t have made the trip otherwise.”
Loving Him Off the Field Page 24