“I didn’t say a word to Tony either,” Hayden confirms.
“Perfect. It’ll be a great surprise.” Jackson glances over at me. “I hear you and Caleb are the real deal.”
I nod, owning it. “We are.”
At least, I hope so.
He smiles. “You two make a good couple. I’ve been predicting this for years.”
“You all have,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“It was all the arguing. You two seemed to get off on it,” he teases.
I’m not going to protest, because I’m pretty sure Jackson is right. They all are.
The flight to Las Vegas from Fresno takes just about an hour. We spend that hour talking and laughing, listening to Jackson chatter away, telling funny stories about their high school rivalry and what Eli used to do to work our boys into a frenzy. Everyone snacks and drinks plenty of champagne, with the exception of me.
I’m too nervous to eat—or drink. Worried over Caleb’s reaction at seeing me at his game. What if my being there makes him angry?
And will he even see me? UNLV’s home stadium is the same one that the Raiders use—meaning it’s huge. Massive. There will be so many people there tomorrow. The Bulldog fans love to travel for games, and Vegas is an easy flight over from Fresno, or a longer drive that many of them willingly make. I don’t want to meet up with him tonight either. I’m not ready for that conversation yet. Plus, I don’t want to get into his head the night before a game. He needs to stay focused.
Centered.
By the time we’re dropping our bags off in our rooms, I’m exhausted. But Jackson is having none of it. He whisks us off to a very expensive restaurant that’s in the hotel, where he proceeds to order practically every appetizer on the menu. He’s having the time of his life, surrounded by three women while wining and dining us. I can only laugh, swept up by his easy, charming attitude, my heart expanding every time I watch him and Ellie interact.
He is so in love with her. You can see it in his eyes, in his body language. He leans into her, always smiling, his blue eyes trained on her. He can’t keep his hands off of her either, and he presses his lips to her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek. Her lips.
He can’t stop kissing her. It’s as if he wants to consume her. But not in a bad, stalkerish way either. His gestures are sweet. Tender.
I think of Caleb. How sweet he’d been with me recently. Like a little boy looking to always please me. I loved that. It made me want to please him in return. Though he didn’t act like a little boy behind closed doors. He was all man. Commanding and forceful and precise.
So precise.
As in, the man knows just what to do to make me come.
We’re waiting for dessert—really, it’s only Jackson waiting for dessert, the rest of us are absolutely stuffed—when my phone buzzes with a text notification.
From Caleb.
Caleb: Hey.
I stare at that one word, my heart in my throat. What does he want? Is it bad? Or is this a casual reach out, like no big deal?
I’m probably making something out of nothing.
Me: Hey.
The little gray dotted bubble pops up, indicating he’s typing, and I wait in breathless anticipation for his reply. He takes forever, which makes my heart thump harder, scared over his response.
Caleb: I miss you.
Oh. My chest expands, and it feels as if a million butterflies were just released, spreading their colorful wings in the air. I breathe easier, and fighting a smile, I tap at the screen.
Me: I miss you too.
His response is
immediate.