Page 16 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

ELIAS

I raise my hand to knock but hesitate. She could already be asleep, or she could not want me here after I sent her home.

But I’m already outside her door and I brought dinner, so I need to stop being a wuss.

The knock is loud, and I cringe. She has a migraine. On the other side I hear a meow from Craig and some shuffling.

A moment later Whimsy opens the door and stares at me in shock.

“What are you doing here?” She takes me in, from my sneakers to my shorts to my black t-shirt.

“I brought dinner.” I hold out the takeout bag. “I looked up meals that are supposed to be good when you have lupus. Anti-inflammatory. It’s salmon and veggies and there’s a roll too which I know isn’t exactly anti-inflammatory but I figured better safe than sorry since I know you love bread.”

The last thing I expect is for Whimsy to burst into tears, but she does just that.

“You researched what food is best to eat for lupus?”

I look around half-expecting someone with a camera to pop out and tell me I’ve been Punk’d but that doesn’t happen.

“Yes?” It comes out as a question. It seems like the most logical thing to do.

I know food plays a role in autoimmune disorders; therefore it made sense to me to choose something that wouldn’t make her flare more intense.

“That’s … so sweet. Thank you.” She steps aside to let me in.

I try to ignore the fact that she’s wearing a tiny pair of blue and white striped shorts and a matching blue camisole. A garment I only know the name of because of my sister.

I’ve barely crossed the threshold when Craig starts weaving between my legs.

I set the bag of food down before I scoop the cat up. “I missed you, too, Craig.” I nuzzle her neck.

Whimsy laughs and peeks into the bag of food, pulling out the two orders. She arches an amused brow. “You assumed I’d let you stay for dinner?”

I shrug, unaffected by her teasing tone. “I hoped.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “You’re feeling better? I was worried you might be in bed.”

“I had the driver grab me a frozen coffee on the way home. Don’t ask me why, but it helps.”

“Good.”

I set Craig down and take the to-go boxes from her and plate our meals up to pop in the microwave. She watches me with an amused curve of her lips.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You sure make yourself at home in my apartment.”

I shrug. “Would you like me to ask permission?”

She shakes her head. “It’s just cute is all.”

“Cute?” I arch a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, I just … never expected you to be this way, I guess. I’ve only really known you as my boss. Not this domestic version of you”

“Domestic,” I snort.

“You know what I mean.” She pokes my stomach. The microwave buzzes so I switch out the plates. “Aren’t you tired?” she asks suddenly, voice softer than before. “You shouldn’t have worried about me. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” She’s been doing it for years unbeknownst to me. “But I can help, so let me. As for home…” I hum. “I’d rather be here.”

Over the past few weeks, I’ve found that I much prefer to be here.

“Why?” she asks, nose wrinkling in confusion.

“It’s not as lonely,” I admit. “And I don’t think I realized before Jackson forced us into this just how alone I really was.” My brows knit as I think about my time on the road. The hookups and the interviews and the parties and how I ate it all up—or so I thought.

She snorts, brows climbing high on her forehead. “You? Lonely?”

My shoulders hunch upwards trying to eat my ears. “Yeah,” I mumble as the microwave goes off a second time. “I think I have been.”

She frowns at that but the subject drops as we sit down with our dinner. We eat in silence and she doesn’t protest when I clean up—that’s how I know she’s still not feeling the best.

“I should head out,” I say when everything is cleaned up.

Whimsy bites her lip. “You could or we could watch a movie?”

I cock my head to the side. “You sure?”

She shrugs. “It’s not that late.”

She lets me pick the movie this time which feels like immense pressure. I choose the greatest movie ever made National Treasure .

“Surprising choice,” she comments, not protesting when I tug her feet into my lap and massage the soles.

“It’s a solid movie.”

Her lips tip up into a smile. “Can’t argue with you there.” When the movie is over, Whimsy gives me a soft smile. “Thank you for making me come home and thank you for making sure I had dinner.”

I dip my head in acknowledgment. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re a pretty good fake boyfriend.”

Right. This is all fake. Just pretend.

I don’t understand why that fact isn’t sitting well with me.

“Thanks.”

She walks me to the door and I stop short of kissing her cheek, reminding myself that none of this is real.