20. Marissa

CHAPTER 20

MARISSA

M y phone pings with a text, and I dart my gaze away from my computer and to the screen.

How does this look for dinner? Charlie's text reads.

Below it is a selfie of him wearing nothing but an apron. He grins big, obviously proud of his joke.

Pressing my hand to my mouth, I stifle my laugh. Isaac is in a meeting, and he hates distractions.

Biting back the giggles, I text Charlie back, asking if he's the entree or dessert.

Putting the phone down, I open my to-do list for the day and realize that everything is finished. There's nothing left to do but leave.

And leave I do. I can't get my butt out of the office fast enough.

Since Isaac's meeting might go over, and I already know he doesn't need me, I don't bother saying goodbye.

Which I'm fine with. Ever since Charlie and I arrived back in Chicago two weeks ago, I've kept my nose to the grindstone and haven't complained about anything.

Mostly, this is because I don't want to draw too much of Isaac's attention. I don't want him to look too closely at my behaviors, at my daily schedule. Because if he does, he might suspect that Charlie is more than my client.

It's not like I'm breaking any rules by dating him. It just doesn't look professional. Especially since he's my very first client.

And so I'm keeping my cards close. For now, anyway.

Soon enough Charlie will be signed, and we'll be off to the races. Gone are my previous plans of handing him off to Isaac and asking for a different client.

Nope. I'm thinking bigger.

I could start my own agency. With Charlie at the forefront, athletes will flock to my offices.

Smiling to myself, I get into my car and head out of the parking garage. I'm barely on the road for a minute before my phone rings.

My heart jumps at the unknown number — a San Antonio one.

"This is Marissa," I answer.

"Marissa," a man's voice purrs. "This is Evan. From the San Antonio?—"

"Yes!" I nearly bounce in my seat from excitement. "It's good to hear from you. How are you?"

"Good, good. Listen, I didn't want to keep you hanging. I don't have an answer yet about Charlie, but it's looking good. We're pushing for him. The owners just need a little extra encouragement."

My heart flutters from a mix of excitement and anxiety. "Sure. Is there anything I can do to help convince them?"

"No, but I'm sure I can win them over. Charlie is something special, and I saw that he meant what he said. He's ready to commit. Sometimes we need to hit rock bottom to reach our highest peak, and I can tell that's where he's at."

Warmth spreads through me. "Yeah, he is. Thanks so much, Evan."

"You got it. Take care. I'll be in touch soon."

"Thank you. You too." I hang up, feeling wired from it all.

Evan seems convinced that he can get Charlie on the team, but it's not lost on me that this is the only call we've received from any reps since returning to Chicago. If Charlie doesn't sign with San Antonio, we're back to square one.

Or maybe that's it. Maybe his career is completely over.

And mine with it.

I pull into his driveway feeling several hundred pounds heavier.

The porch light flickers on as I cut the engine and step out of the car. With a sigh, I walk up to Charlie's door, my footsteps echoing back at me in the quiet neighborhood.

Before I can knock, he has the door open. He's smiling at me, wearing his apron over a bare chest and jeans.

"You made it," he says.

I chuckle, though I'm aware there's not a lot of heart in it. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"No, I thought you would. It's still exciting, though." He pulls me in for a soft, warm kiss.

Yes, it is still exciting. Every time I look at him, I feel like I'm walking on air. The last two weeks have been some of the best of my life.

Pulling back, I study his face. "How are you?"

"Good. Bored, though. I feel like I'm going stir crazy."

He doesn't voice it, but I see the question in his eyes: have I heard from anyone yet?

"Me, too." I walk into the house and close the door behind us. "Evan from San Antonio just called."

Charlie freezes, apparently unsure whether he should get his hopes up or not.

His eyes search my face, looking for a clue, a hint of what Evan had to say. The ticking of the wall clock becomes deafening. I take off my coat and hang it on the hook by the door, stalling.

"So?" he prompts, his voice slightly shaky.

"There's no offer yet, but he's confident he can convince the team's owners."

Charlie runs his palm over his mouth. Clearly, it's not what he wanted to hear.

"I know." I walk into the kitchen.

"Well, it's something." He follows me, sounding more cheerful than I expected him to.

I just wish I could get in the same mindset.

I know I need to be positive, to believe things will get better. It's hard, though, when I'm reminded of just how much is hinging on one phone call.

"Hey, I'm not worried." Charlie slips his arms around me.

"You're not?" I study him, unsure whether I believe him or not.

"Nah." A glint of mischief plays in his eyes. "I trust you."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, warm and surprisingly shaky. His trust is something that I don't take lightly. But it's also pressure. Pressure to not mess up, to not let him down.

He tips my chin up, his fingers gentle against my skin. "You got us through all those doors, and I know it will pay off."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. If Charlie can muster such confidence in me, then maybe I can, too.

"Ready to eat?" he asks.

"Sure." This time, smiling feels easy. "What did you make?"

"Your favorite." He steps back, moving towards the counter. "Fettuccine Alfredo."

I laugh at that. I always did have a soft spot for carbs. Not ideal for an athlete like Charlie, but it's his cheat day.

The aroma hits me first — garlic, parmesan cheese, white wine and cream. It's intoxicating.

"Smells amazing," I say, following him to the table, which is already set for us.

"Why thank you, madame." He grins, pulling out my chair. Always the gentleman.

We sit down and I take a deep breath, trying to let go of the day's stress. It helps to be here with him.

The first bite is divine, and I find myself moaning in appreciation. "This is so good."

"That's why you pay me the big bucks," he teases. "Personal athlete and chef at your service."

I chuckle, though I'm very aware that no one is technically paying him right now.

Yet I push the worry to the back of my mind. I can let go of all of that for the evening.

With Charlie's arm draped over the back of my chair, I feel safe and warm and cherished. It's exactly what I need.

For a while, we just sit in our kitchen bubble, talking about everything but the phone call we're both eagerly waiting for. Trying to pretend that our world isn't on the brink of changing forever.

Because in this moment, it's just Charlie and me — and that's all that really matters.

"Hey." Suddenly, his hand is wrapped around mine.

"Hi." I find his eyes, which are already staring me down.

"I just want to say…" He pauses, considering his words. "Thank you for everything."

"You don't need to thank me again. We're a team. This benefits?—"

"I'm not just talking about work." His gaze softens. "I'm talking about us. I've never… been this deeply involved with someone, and…"

He suddenly seems nervous. He runs his palm over his head and shifts in his seat.

"What?" I push, my pulse roaring in my ears.

"I want to take the plunge with you." His throat rolls with a swallow. "Come what may, I want to face it with you. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm serious about you, Marissa. This isn't just a fling to me, like in the past. This, this is different. You're special to me."

His words hang between us, shockingly bold and heartfelt. My chest tightens until I think my heart might burst from the force of my emotions. I can only gape at him, the words swirling around in my head, both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I…" I fumble for a response, feeling the blush rise in my cheeks.

He brushes a stray hair out of my face, tucking it gently behind my ear. "Look, I get it if you need time to think about it." He reassures me with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"No," I say without thinking and then immediately clarify. "I mean, yes, but… no."

A chuckle rumbles in Charlie's chest, his lips curving up in amusement. "Which one is it?"

I let out a shaky breath, trying to gather my scrambling thoughts. "What I mean to say is… yes, I need time because this is… huge."

His smile wavers for a moment but stays on his face as an encouragement for me to continue.

"But no," I continue, my voice growing stronger with each word. "This isn't just a fling for me either."

His grip on my hand tightens ever so slightly as he leans closer, his expression earnest and hopeful. The kitchen fades into nothingness as his words echo in my mind. There's that plunge again.

"Charlie," I begin, looking into those warm eyes that hold nothing but pure affection for me. "I'm serious about you too."

His eyes light up, the warmth in them intensifying as if someone has flipped a switch. His hands slip around my waist, pulling me closer.

I lean in until our foreheads touch. My heart throbs in my chest, pounding painfully hard.

"That's all I wanted to hear," he says, his voice so soft it's almost a whisper.

My body vibrates with his words, each one wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I close my eyes, breathing in this moment, engraving it into my memory. The smell of him, the sound of his heart beating in sync with mine.

Everything is perfect.

And, because of that, I know we can face whatever comes next. Whether or not it includes receiving a phone call with good news.