“For how long?”
“Five days.”
Bryn snorts. “Five days is nothing. If you can survive five days apart, you’ll be fine. But Clare?”
“Yeah?”
“Text me back when I message you. I was ready to call the police and report you missing.”
Despite everything, I laugh. “I will. I promise.”
“Good. Now go to work and try to focus on something other than your boyfriend’s abs for at least an hour.”
“How did you—”
“Because I know you. And because you’ve got that post-sex glow in your voice that’s frankly nauseating.”
She hangs up before I can respond, leaving me sitting in my car with my cheeks burning and a stupid smile on my face.
Because Bryn’s right about one thing—I do have it bad for Mitchell Drake. Maybe I’m in love with him already. Maybe this is the scariest, most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.
And maybe, for once in my life, I’m brave enough to let myself have it.
Chapter Forty-Four
Two Months Later
Mitch
“Mitchy’s all domesticated now,” Hayes announces to the locker room, toweling off after practice. “Look at him checking his phone every five minutes.”
I don’t look up from lacing my skates. “Shut up.”
“Nah, man, it’s cute,” Bennett chimes in, grinning like an asshole. “You’ve gone full old married man. What’s next? Matching sweaters?”
“I’ll match your face with my fist.”
“See? He’s even protective now. Clare’s got him whipped.” Ty makes that sound—the one that makes me want to cross-check him into next week.
The thing is, they’re not wrong. Two months of living with Clare, and I’ve turned into some version of myself I don’t recognize. I cook dinner most nights. I bring her coffee in bed every morning. I actually enjoy grocery shopping because she gets excited about trying new recipes.
I’m completely gone for her, and apparently, it shows.
“You bringing her to Murphy’s tonight?” Chase asks, pulling on his jacket.
“Can’t. We’ve got that book club thing.”
The entire room goes quiet. Then erupts in laughter.
“Book club,” Hayes repeats. “Damn, I’d forgotten you’re hosting it this time.”
“It’s work,” I mutter, but even I know how pathetic that sounds.
“Work,” Bennett says. “Right. Has nothing to do with impressing your live-in girlfriend.”
My live-in girlfriend. The words still hit me sideways, even after two months. Clare’s clothes hanging in my closet. Her books scattered across my coffee table. Her laugh echoing through my apartment every morning.
I never thought I’d want that again. Never thought I’d trust anyone enough to let them that close.