Page 22 of Hot Shot

We walk hand-in-hand to the restaurant in silence. Once we’re seated and we’ve ordered our food, I take a deep breath.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Charlotte says.

She beat me to it, so I guess I’ll let her talk first. “Sure. Anything.”

“I think you should consider moving in with me. Like what you mentioned the other day about me going to the hotel with you. That doesn’t make sense when I already own a home. I have an extra bedroom for you and then I’ll be converting my home office to the nursery because I rarely actually work in that room.

“So I have plenty of room for both of us. That way you can be more involved in the day-to-day of the pregnancy. I know you’ll be traveling a lot when your season starts.”

How does she not realize that with every word, she’s breaking my heart a little bit more. I don’t want a fucking separate room. I want to be in her room, in her bed, where I belong.

“How does that sound?” she asks.

I can hear the hope in her voice and the uncertainty. I would give this woman anything, even if it means moving into her house as only her baby daddy.

“It sounds great,” I say.

We eat our lunch, and she tells me the story of how she found out she was pregnant when she went to the doctor to get tested for menopause. I listen and let her talk, enjoying any and every detail she can share with me about her pregnancy thus far. When she first felt him move. How she’s had to buy new bras twice already.

I insist on paying which makes her roll her eyes at me.

I lean closer to her. “I just signed a two-year contract with the Tornados worth at least as many millions when you include bonuses. So I think I can afford to take my girl to lunch.”

“Max.”

I know she’s going to argue with me about me calling her ‘my girl’ so I keep going.

“I wanted to ask you something today too, you know. You kinda stole my thunder.”

She chuckles. “I apologize. You can ask me now.”

I shake my head. “Now I know the conversation isn’t going to go the way I want it to.” With that, I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring box. I set it on the table.

“Max,” she whispers.

“I’m not going to ask you to marry me today. I’m going to give you some time because when I do ask you—and believe me it will happen—I want you to say yes. I see your doubts, Charlotte, and you should know that I’m not giving up on us. I’m not going anywhere. So for now, we can just be roommates, but you need to know how I feel.”

She nods, her eyes filled with tears.

I grab her hands. “I’m in love with you, Charlotte Ward. And since I know we’re soul mates, I know you love me too. Maybe you just need to catch up with me.

“Soul mates?” she asks, her tone weighs heavy with condescension. She pulls her hands from mine. “That’s not how love works, Max. That’s how it works in rom-coms, but in the real world, love is hard work and commitment.”

It’s on my tongue to tell her that, of course I know that real life isn’t a rom-com. For fuck’s sake, I’m not an idiot. But then she keeps going.

“It’s deciding to love your person because you made vows. So even on those days when they are on your last nerve and you kinda feel like pushing them into on-coming traffic, you don’t. That’s what love is. It’s about a hundred little choices every day, not the big sweeping romantic gestures. That’s just Hollywood.”

Someone hurt her. That’s evident. And obviously she’s not ready to talk to me about it. So we’re back to giving her time to get used to the idea of us as a couple. In the meantime, I’ll love enough for both of us.

chapter

twelve

Charlotte

ME: I’m pretty sure he’s trying to kill me.

CHELSEA: In what way?