41. Gianna

I reread the post as I rode the elevator to Emerson's floor.

What was the deeper meaning here? It was in response to something, because Emerson wouldn't have issued a statement to the entire world, including my brother, without reason. But I wasn't sure what he was saying. Was this a declaration of love or a goodbye? My stomach churned. Not only was I unsure about Emerson's feelings, I was also freaked out that maybe I'd made the wrong decision today. No. I pushed that thought away. If I was ever going to have the life I wanted, then I had to start doing the scary stuff.

The elevator dinged, and the heavy metal doors parted. My feet felt like they were encased in cement as I walked down the hall to the Emerson's apartment. The last text he'd sent said he'd be waiting for me.

I took a big breath and pushed through the door.

"Gi?" Emerson called before I'd even crossed the threshold. And before I was even out of the entryway, his arms were around me. He clung to me there, arms shaking and breathing choppy.

"Are you okay?" I pulled back, forcing the words out past the giant lump lodged in my throat.

"No." With both hands, he snatched mine and held it, still trembling. "I waited way too long to say this. And I'm worried I might have missed my chance." He shut his eyes, sucked in a long breath, and then opened them again. "Feel this," he demanded as he splayed my hand over his chest. Directly over his heart. "This belongs to you." Pressing more intensely, he covered my hand with his. The steady pounding echoed against my palm. "It pounds for you. It skips when you walk into a room. And it breaks when you're hurting."

My knees went a little wobbly, but I forced myself to remain upright.

"I can't stomach the idea of letting you go." With his free hand, he cupped my cheek. "I know you could do better than me, but Gi, I'll spend forever doing everything I can to be enough."

"Emerson." I wrapped my arms around him. "There is no one better for me than you. I just didn't think you wanted it."

He shook his head, his chin brushing my temple. "Biggest fake out of my life was trying to convince myself that you weren't my everything the first time your lips touched mine. I've never worked harder at faking anything than I did at faking casual with you."

My heart skipped. "Em."

"No, wait." He stepped back and held a hand up. "You need to understand—I'm still not a good bet. There's a good chance I'll have to move in a few months. I'm going to be gone most of time. You might be lonely. And hate it." He brushed his knuckles under his nose and sniffed. "I'm not a good bet…" His eyes met mine, and finally, all the walls were down, and pure love shone in his gaze. "But I'm asking you to take it anyway."

I shook my head, and in response, he jerked, and his face crumpled.

"Em," I whispered, taking a step closer. "You are the surest bet of my life."

His body sagged, and he blinked hard. Clearly, he thought I was going to say something different.

"You are the surest bet I could make, because I'm not just betting on you. You'll always bet on me too." I tapped his chest, right over his heart. "It'll never be just you again. Now it's us. Together, you and me."

"Together." With a long breath out, he shut his eyes and nodded. Then he reached out and pulled me tight into his arms. "Have you been on Insta today?" The words were careful. "Because there was some stuff."

"I saw your post."

His arms tightened around me. "What about on the Revs page?"

The picture Hannah posted last night. Of us. Between his post and his hesitancy now, I was getting the idea. I wasn't what people expected when they thought of an athlete's date.

"They're wrong," he muttered into my hair. "You are perfect."

That was ridiculous. I wasn't perfect. I might be his perfect match, but I wasn't perfect.

"Em." I tried to pull back, but he clung to me. "Look at me, please."

He sighed but loosened his arms enough so I could see his face. The angry crank in front of me didn't seem like Emerson.

"You're a professional athlete."

"So?" He frowned.

"So people are always going to have opinions. And we have to learn to ignore them." I didn't doubt how Emerson felt about me. And critics who didn't know us shouldn't get that kind of control in our relationship. "Both of us."

He cupped my cheek. "I don't want you to be upset."

"I'm not," I promised. "I'm not going to read random people's comments on social media. I saw the comment I needed to see. Yours."

His eyes softened.

"I'm going to listen to voices that matter and drown out the noise that doesn't."

"I love you so much."

My heart tripped as he pressed his lips against my forehead.

"Can I say it now?" I asked.

With a chuckle, he nodded, his chin brushing against my cheek. "I love you too."

His arms tightened, and he breathed me in, sending a spark of awareness through me.

"And I quit my job today."

He jerked back, clasping my upper arms. "What?"

"I didn't just not take the promotion. I quit." I licked my lips and surveyed the skyline behind him. "It's scary, but I want to paint. And sell my work. I don't want to be in that toxic work environment anymore. And I want to trust myself."

He smiled. "So if I have to ask you to follow me to Timbuktu, you might be free to do it?"

"I'd follow you anywhere," I promised.

He pulled me in and squeezed me tight again. But as relieved as he was in this moment, I knew he didn't want leave the Revs.

I hoped the team was smart enough to realize that Emerson shouldn't be going anywhere.