Page 78 of Almost Rotten

Chapter twenty-nine

Tytus

When the server tops off my water again, I mutter athank youand greedily snatch it from the table.

I should have hydrated and eaten before coming out tonight. But I was too fucking anxious to get here, and I was too focused on ensuring Sawyer would be by my side.

She wasn’t in her usual seat during the game.

That alone had me nearly unraveling.

Thankfully, I kept my shit locked down. Then I channeled all my anger and frustration into kicking Northeastern’s ass.

Atty scored today, and Swayzee, the fucker, earned himself a hat trick. For as much as he irks me, he’s a damn good hockey player.

The guys all went out after the game, but once again, I declined. I have yet to celebrate with the team after a win. Although I might have considered it tonight if not for this dinner.

So far, the evening has consisted of all my least favorite things: small talk, small portions, and false charm that takes a fuck ton of energy from me.

But Sawyer’s here.

And the evening seems to be finally winding down.

Nicole is still going on about a big marketing push that ties into season ticket sales for next year. It’s a topic I couldn’t care less about, but I feign interest anyway.

It will likely be another two years before I officially join the Galaxy roster. Maybe more. So much of my personal timeline depends on what Sawyer wants to do in terms of advancing her degrees. Not that she or the suits across from us know that particular detail.

I push my dessert plate out of the way and subtly crack my neck.

“You’ll be featured across all social media platforms that day. Then, at the end of the week, we’ll launch the preorder for your Georgia Galaxy rookie jersey,” Nicole explains.

Though I’m not listening as well as I should be, I’ve got the gist of what they want from me. The plan is for a person from the media team to visit Holt to get photos and video soon. They’ll get a media pass from the school, and the team will be in touch with the athletic department to reserve time for a dry land photoshoot.

“Will the jersey for the photoshoot be purple?” Sawyer asks, her eyes bright as she picks up her after-dinner coffee.

Like the fucking gem she is, she’s been carrying a lot of the conversation tonight.

I’m so grateful she’s here.

It’s not that I don’t care about what Clark and Nicole have to say. If anything, I’m too interested and really fucking nervous. Add in the sheer exhaustion that sets in after a game, and I’m lucky I can keep my eyes open.

Thank fuck tomorrow’s a true day off. I have nothing to do and nowhere to be. And I fully intend to entice Sawyer to stay in bed with me all day.

“That’s not really something I’m supposed to disclose,” Nicole answers.

Sawyer shrugs. “Fair. Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.” She takes a bite of her cheesecake, and when her mouth closes around the fork, she emits a quiet little moan.

Fuck.

Why does watching her eat dessert get me hard?

Scratch that.

Doesn’t matter what she’s doing. Everything about her—her sweet apple scent, the way the light makes her hair look like fire when it hits just right, the enthusiastic noises she makes when she’s excited or enjoying herself—does it for me.

My naughty little wife.

It started as a ruse. I’m committed to making it our reality.