Page 91 of The Wrong Game
I smiled. “So was that your dream, to work for your best friend?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know what my dream was. I don’t know that I ever had one. I love working for Belle, because she’s my best friend and I want to be a part of her journey. Plus, being her assistant, I get to do everything that comes naturally to my OCD brain, anyway.” She paused, eyes focused somewhere in the distance. “But, I don’t know. When I met Carlo, I just kind of fell in line behind him.”
My throat closed a little at the sound of his name. She hadn’t mentioned it before, and for some reason, giving her late husband a name made him more real.
“All through college, I did whatever he wanted to, even majored in business because he told me it would be the most beneficial,” she continued. “He was older than me, and already had a strong foot in the technology business when I graduated. He was making startup apps and selling them to the highest bidder, kind of like flipping houses.” Gemma shrugged. “And when I graduated, we got married, and I stepped into my role as his wife, and helped Belle build her business. I think I’ve always been an assistant, in more ways than one.”
I ran my hand through her hair, now grass-free. “I bet Belle loves having you.”
Gemma smiled at that. “She does. She’s so thankful, and she treats me so well. Pays me more than she should. But…” She shook her head. “This is going to sound weird, but ever since Carlo passed away, I’m starting to realize that I justdidall this stuff without really asking myself what I wanted. Like, we were a unit, we did everything together. I don’t really know what I want or who I am without him.”
I frowned, pushing to sit up and bringing her with me. I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her hair. “I don’t really know what I want, either,” I said. “I haven’t really paused to ask myself, not since I gave up football. I mean, I love working at Doc’s. He’s like Belle in a way, pays me more than he should, probably more than he can afford, and he’s like a dad to me. But… I don’t know. Is it what I want for the rest of my life?”
“Exactly,” Gemma said on a sigh. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Maybe we can figure it out together,” I offered, leaning back to search her eyes with my own. “But, I’m in no rush. Life isn’t all about where you work, anyway.”
“Right?” Gemma tossed her hands up. “Everyone always starts off with that, like at parties and stuff. They want to know where you work, what you do for a living. But isn’t it about so much more than that?”
“It is,” I said. “It’s about what you do when you’renotworking, how you spend your free time in life. Where do you go to recharge, to find peace?”
Gemma leaned into me. “And where is that place for you?”
“Your bed.”
She swatted my arm.
“I don’t know, there are a lot of places. My parents’ house, the gym…” My voice faded, and I ran my fingers through her hair, tucking the strands behind one ear. “And, in all seriousness, places like this. With people like you.”
Gemma smiled, leaning into my hand still framing her face. She watched me for a long moment before closing the distance between us and sealing her lips with mine.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her into me, and we both inhaled that kiss like it was a fresh breath after being submerged under water. Her little hands fisted in my sweater, and she shivered, goosebumps racing all the way up to her neck.
“Let’s get back inside,” I whispered against her lips.
“Wait,” she said, swallowing. Her eyes watched my lips, crawling slowly up until they met my gaze. “What if we… left.”
“You want to leave your own birthday party?”
Gemma shrugged. “Game’s over, candles have been blown out. They’ll survive the rest of the night without me.”
A smile tugged my lips to one side. “And where is it that you’d like to go?”
She dragged her finger down my arm, gaze following it as she bit her lip. When her eyes found mine again, she watched me through her lashes, a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks. “Take me to your place?”
She licked the lip that had just been pinned between her teeth, and heat sparked low in my stomach, rolling through me as desire eclipsed everything else. I wanted those wet lips on me. I wanted Gemma in my bed, in the suit she was supposed to wear on this day.
So, I stood, tugging her to her feet before I pulled her in for one long, hot, intentional kiss.
And I gave the birthday girl what she wished for.
“Welcome to the palace,” I said, holding the door to my apartment open for Gemma. She rolled her eyes, stepping through and staying near the door as I locked up behind us, hanging my keys on the hook near the entrance.
Gemma tucked her hand in her back pockets, looking around with a small smile. My apartment was modest compared to hers — a small studio on the south side of town. The kitchen and living area were basically one room, with the bedroom and bathroom being separated only by a thin wall. It had a modern feel, brick and concrete and high-hanging wire lighting, but it was clean and minimal. I didn’t need much.
“This is so nice,” she said, and she started walking around, eyeing what little décor I had — old football photos, pictures of me and the family, some old bar signs from Doc’s. “It’s…cool. Modern.”
“You sound surprised,” I said, feigning offense as I sat the two boxes I’d carried up on the kitchen bar. They were her birthday presents, but I told her she couldn’t open them until we were alone. “What, I don’t seem cool to you?”