21. Keats

21

KEATS

C hewing on my pen, I skim the lines of the contract on my screen. Jotting down a quick note on my pad of paper, I'm grateful that I'm one paragraph away from being done. Sitting on a plane in first class for the morning red eye, I'm not loving the grueling week, even if I love working with the Spinners' general manager Vaughn Madden or the fact that Oliver is also present on this trip.

The thing about being the legal counsel for a hockey team is that there are always constant curves in the way you approach others in your work. It's not always straight and narrow. Contracts in relations to players are high stakes, and contracts with team sponsors require a bit more finesse.

Imagine that. I manage to transform my style in law, but when it comes to Esme, I lose my ability to adapt to situations. Such as being direct about what I'm really feeling.

That's probably with good reason since I know I want her, and we're not following any traditional timelines, but eventually that has to catch up to address the bigger picture.

Sighing and sinking back into my seat, I'm relieved that a week of schmoozing with sponsors is over. I even managed to cut a day out of this trip. Esme has been out like a light with the flu, and she kept repeating that my work life has impeccable timing because she isn't sure she could save me from the plague she has. Truthfully, I can't recall a day that I had to take off because I was sick. Not ever, actually.

And remembering the days when I wouldn't bother trying to get home at a reasonable hour seem long ago.

Actually, thinking outside of my work world is a new concept.

It's because of her.

She makes me laugh and keeps me in line.

A wildflower that sways in the wind and blows away the only focus in life I had and carries in the realization that I can have something outside of work that I apparently never imagined.

But now I do.

There is more to life, and it's spending it with someone.

A woman who makes me laugh, calls me out when needed, and surprises me at random moments.

It's turning me into an absolutely sappy guy who needs to bring a little edge back.

The corners of my mouth tug when I picture Esme passed out in bed with probably a little snore. Surprising her will hopefully make her happy. But then her words before I left still poke at me. She kind of insinuated that she will move back when her house is ready.

It makes sense. Complete sense.

She has a house. That's not something you can forget about.

Even if in a perverse way, I don't want her to have that house at all.

Having forgotten that Oliver is next to me, I startle when he nudges my arm holding up his empty cup to the flight attendant to indicate for another water.

"You're smiling to yourself," he notes.

No point in hiding it. "Just thinking about how there is someone at home when I get there."

"That's good. Otherwise, it would be awkward."

Closing my laptop screen, I allow my thoughts to float in and out of my head. "Nah, we're good. Or rather we both appear content. I'm still trying to comprehend the best way to discuss what I might envision for the road ahead, but still…" A deep breath fills my lungs. "It's like my enjoyment is scraping along reality and they are both trying to win a fight."

Oliver stares at me blankly. "That's a positive?"

I shrug my shoulder, with my smile still glued to my face. "I haven't figured that out, either. Right now, I'm just going to head home." Glancing at my watch, I check the time. "I should make it back around nine."

"The benefit of living on the same street is that we can share the ride back. If you are nice then I'll let the driver drop you off first." He's messing with me, and since it's not even seven, I don't bother with a rebuff. "But seriously, I'm going to drop my stuff off then hit Foxy Rox for a decent coffee and breakfast then the gym. There is a hot new yoga instructor, and if I plan my timing right then I'll run into her."

"Bachelor life. Enjoy it." It doesn't appeal to me anymore.

He thanks the attendant for another water, and I shake my head to her to assure that I don't need anything.

Except Esme.

Oliver sips his drink. "Did the contractor start on her house?" he asks innocently, trying to make small talk. We were so busy during the last week that any downtime we had was reserved for sleep .

Scratching my cheek, I don't seem to enjoy the answer. "Yeah, but there are so many hiccups. Esme hasn't really checked up since she's been in bed sick." Maybe I should pick up medicine supplies on my way back.

"I'm curious what it will all look like in the end. Maybe these two houses getting a remodel will increase the property value on Everhope Road."

I turn my head to him with my face screwed. "You have some audacity. That's what you think of?"

His eyes widen. "Come on, I don't have an emotional connection like you, and I'm a business guy. It's a reasonable point to think about."

My head gently bounces side to side, as perhaps he has a point.

"Have you sent Mrs. Tiller thank-you flowers or a fruit basket or something? She created this forced living-together situation that you've got going on. You landed a girlfriend."

I scoff a laugh. "I would like to think that we were heading that way before the flames." Good old Mrs. Tiller just unbeknownst gave us a big shove in the right direction.

Direction.

That word again.

The clear-as-day answer seems to be hidden in a clue. Instead of a murder mystery party, it's plain, everyday life.

Esme has messed with my powers to keep it together under uncertain times. All cards are off the table when it comes to her. Unraveling her would probably be my biggest win yet.

We're both idiots

"What was that?"

Shit. Again, forgot Oliver is here, and apparently, I thought aloud .

"Nothing. Esme and I just have to hash out a few details." If we have to argue this then maybe that's our way.

But she needs to know that I don't want her to go anywhere.

I intend on laying it on the table so we will at least be on the same page.

Walking into my house, it's quiet. I'm grateful that Esme is a clean freak like me, so everything is in place except the coffee table which tends to have either a laptop or other papers. She taunts me for my little workspace, but she's guilty too for working there early in the morning.

I didn't text Esme since she's expecting me tomorrow, and the element of surprise is us.

I leave my bag and laptop at the bottom of the stairs, intending to grab them later. Her keys are in the bowl by the door and her car's out front, which means she's here.

Gently stepping up the stairs, I quietly make my way to the bedroom where the door is ajar. Peeking through, I can see that Esme is asleep. It causes me to half smile to myself. I don't worry about making noise as she seems to be a in a deep sleep. Taking a moment, I admire the view of Esme lying in bed on her stomach with her cheek smudging against the pillow and her hair in a messy bun. She's in one of my shirts, that's a bonus.

A few steps closer to the bed, my head cocks to the side as I study her. There is no way I'm waking her up. She's probably as exhausted as me. However, I can't help it. I silently lean down and glide the back of my hand gingerly along her cheek, careful not to wake this beautiful creature.

Maybe, I'll wake her after I shower. I need to shave, too. Leaving Esme to rest, I walk to the master bathroom. I land right in front of the mirror. I look like hell, clearly exhausted, with short stubble to match. Grabbing my toothbrush from the holder next to the sink, I continue to look ahead.

As if it is a photo on the wall, my eyes pick up the speck of something in the corner, and my eyes drift down next to the sink.

Placing the toothbrush back into the holder, I stare dazed at the box.

In what feels like slow motion, I pick it up to bring the box in better view. Yep, I'm reading that right. My pulse begins to soar, and my chest feels as though it might burst. Swallowing, I notice the box is a little light.

Immediately, I begin to search, and it takes only two seconds.

Holy fuck.

Dropping the box, I grab the stick, and my eyes squeeze as they remain fixed on the test to have a better view.

I take a long moment standing frozen, while inside, I'm suddenly swarmed with emotions in a new way. Or I might be having a heart attack.

Which is why I drop the pregnancy test, not taking notice where it lands.

Instead, I rush out of the bathroom, only to pause and take one glance of Esme still asleep and oblivious to the fact that I'm here.

Maybe I'm being a coward, but my body is acting in shock and adrenaline.

Which is why I walk away and leave.