She swallowed hard. This was the moment where she could ignore all her fears and take a blind leap of faith, or she could lie and keep her heart safe. Keep her life organized and perfect. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. Nothing but a squeak.
His eyes glazed over and he pushed off of her. She sat up and held her hand out. “Wait!”
He froze. “What?”
“I-It wasn’t meaningless. There’s something between us. Being here with you doesn’t feel wrong. It feels so right.” Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt shaky and weak. Weak because she admitted this to him. Gave him that knowledge. What would he do with it? Would he use it against her?
He rose from the floor, taking her with him, and crossed to the bed. He pressed her down into the mattress and met her eyes. “You’re mine.”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “But I’m still a dancer. Still me.”
“And I’m still me.”
He melded his mouth to hers sweetly, his hand creeping up to cradle her cheek. Her heart leapt at the touch, not from desire but from something she didn’t recognize…didn’t want to name.
And she knew from then on, nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Twelve
Mike gripped the clipboard tightly, holding it to his chest. His wedding ring dug in to the plastic, making his ring finger feel heavy and foreign. Garrett, who stood next to him, eyed the ring for the millionth time, his mouth pressed tight. He hadn’t questioned him yet but Mike knew it was coming. After all his complaints about marriage and his vows to never succumb to the deathly trap—the questions would come.
And they would come hard.
The buzzer sounded and the crowd cheered. Another undefeated season came to an end and he and Garrett had every reason to celebrate. Every reason to be proud. But neither one of them even cracked a smile at each other. As they congratulated their team and promised them and their parents a celebratory pizza party, the gym crowd thinned out.
Pictures for the newspaper to celebrate another undefeated season would be taken tomorrow and the wedding would soon follow. Then…Morgan would either stay or go.
He didn’t know which one it would be. Ever since their admission of whatever they’d admitted to each other last night, they’d been strangely quiet. Neither one of them had brought up the future or what would happen after the wedding on Saturday. They’d just held each other all night long after making love. Because he knew exactly what they’d done last night, and it hadn’t been f**king. It had been intimate and moving and life changing. Just like the snuggling they’d done afterward.
Yeah. He was a f**king spooner now.
What had happened to him, and why didn’t he mind it so much?
As soon as they were alone, Garrett slammed down his clipboard and turned on Mike. “Would you like to tell me why you’re wearing a wedding band? I thought Kiersten was joking when she told me that you, of all people, were married.”
Mike glanced at the band. “Nope. It’s real.”
As real as a marriage would ever be to him.
“You actually married a stripper?”
Mike stiffened. “Who the f**k told you that? She’s not a stripper. She’s a dancer.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Hell yeah. She dances professionally—with her clothes on.”
Garrett shrugged. “I assumed when Brianna said dancer, she was putting it politely. Who is she?”
Mike scrubbed his face. “The girl who yelled at us in the bar for taking her seat.”
“The ginger with the cowboy boots?” Garrett whistled through his teeth. “She looked like she hated you that night.”
Mike sighed. “She did at first. Now, we’re…”
“In love?”
“Fuck. I don’t know what we are.” He shoved the clipboard into his bag and sank to the bench. “No, love hasn’t been mentioned. We got married while drunk. Al helped us get a license. There’s apparently a DVD of us somewhere.”
“Yeah, I have it. Al told me to give it to you.” Garrett yanked it out of his bag and handed the case over.
Mike shoved it into his own bag, not wanting to touch the damn thing right now. “Thanks. I’ll show it to my kids someday. This is Mommy and Daddy when we got drunk and said ‘I do.’”
“Planning kids already?” Garrett whistled low under his breath, then sat down next to him. “What are you going to do now?”
“Shit if I know.” Mike closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the brick wall. “But we’re seeing what happens. She’s coming to the wedding with me.”
“Are you actually considering staying with this woman?” Garrett’s voice sounded like a mix between annoyed and worried. And Mike couldn’t blame him. He was acting strange. Even he could see that. “Do you even know her?”
Mike opened his eyes and shrugged. “I know enough about her to know I married her. If that doesn’t say something, I don’t know what will.”
“Just because you did something while drunk doesn’t mean it means something.”
Mike hesitated. “But what if it does?”
Kiersten came over, looking worried. “Is everything okay over here?” She rested a hand on Garrett’s shoulder, her eyes on Mike. “And you—please tell me you’re going to fix this marriage mess.”
“Jesus, et tu, Brute?” Mike stood up and entwined his hands behind his neck. “Everyone needs to stop f**king worrying about me. Did I shove my nose in your lives while you two figured out your shit?”
Garrett cocked a brow. “I remember you going Oprah on my ass.”
Okay. True enough. “But only once I knew you were ready. I didn’t talk to either of you until you figured yourselves out. So do me a favor. Until I know what the f**k I’m feeling—and what the f**k she’s feeling—leave me alone.”
He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. Kiersten called out, “Are you bringing her to the wedding? I’d like to meet her.”
“Yeah. She’s coming.”
“Good.” Kiersten cleared her throat. “And if she makes you happy, Mike, we’ll love her. You know that, right?”
She did make him happy but she might be leaving. She might not want him the same way he wanted her. “Yeah. I know. Just like I know you love me—and you know I love you. So just let me be.” Garrett cocked a brow, and her eyes went wide. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”