Page 88 of Play the Last Card
“Did you do that Elf on the Shelf thing you were talking about?” I smile at his question because I love that he remembers the elf on the shelf idea I pitched him over a month ago.
“Yes,” I laugh quietly. “And the kids love it.”
I put my pen back into my bag along with the report cards and move it to the side. Getting off my stool and moving around the counter, I wrap my arms around Scott’s waist and press my forehead into his chest.
He instantly wraps me up in his arms.
The past few weeks haven’t been the easiest in terms of this ‘private’ relationship. We put a pin in the football conversation and neither of us are too keen to pull said pin out again any time soon. Scott also hasn’t brought up the secret part of this secret relationship either, even though I know he’s getting sick of having to hide away.
I overheard him explaining to his mom on the phone the other day that we couldn’t go out to dinner with them next week because I’m not keen on being spotted by the paparazzi. I’m not sure what Annabel’s reply was but it had drawn a lengthy sigh from my boyfriend causing the guilt to flare under my skin.
It’s not like keeping things quiet is my favorite thing either but every time I imagine what it would be like if the world knew, I’m thrust into the midst of a minor panic attack.
So I’ve avoided both topics and when it seems like things are starting to get a little tense, I distract Scott by kissing him. Which usually then leads to him kissing me back, neither of us letting go, and after a couple of mutual orgasms the tension is normally gone.
So far, so good even if I was feeling guilty about it all.
“How was your day?” I ask, my question muffled into his chest.
“Good. Practice was good. Getting ready for the playoffs now we’ve clinched a spot.”
“What?” I look up at him, my eyes widening. “I didn’t know that. Congratulations!” I smile genuinely because I know that playoffs are a huge deal. I’m not a total monster when it comes to football.
Another pang of guilt hits me right in the chest. I smile wider, masking it.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, leaning down to kiss me. “I also spoke to Coach today.”
“Oh?” My hands start to itch and I feel like pulling them back from around his waist so I can wring them together but I keep them in place.
“I—Uh, I spoke to him and organized the executive suite for the game on Christmas Day. For you to bring Billy.”
I flinch and my arms start to withdraw but Scott doesn’t let me. He continues before I can tug out of his grasp. “I know you weren’t sure when or which game, but I thought since it was Christmas Day it might be nice. And the exec suite is totally private with its own bathroom, fully catered in the suite and close to a service lift so you can get in and out without being seen.”
He goes quiet, staring down at me.
I don’t move for a moment, stunned by his confession. I can feel the anxiety clawing at the base of my throat but more than that, I feel the relief that floods my veins when he tells me it’s all taken care of. All I have to do is pick up Pops and turn up at the stadium.
He’s taken care of it.
All of it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, standing on my toes to kiss him again. I ignore the anxiety building at the thought of the football game and focus on everything else. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I did,” he says against my lips.
“I’m terrified,” I admit in a small voice, still trying to disappear into his large form. “It’s only a game of football and I am terrified to take him. What kind of person does that make me? That I can’t even do this one thing for Pops after everything he’s done for me.”
Scott reaches behind him and turns off the stove. He takes my hand and leads me to the couch to sit down. I pull a blanket over my legs, tryingto ward off the December chill that seems to be creeping through the house.
It might be time to start lighting fires in the evenings. With Pops not here, I’d have to learn how.
“Ivy,” Scott says, bringing my attention back to him. “I was thinking about this aversion you have to football and I just want to get through this without us having a fight or me making you cry.”
I huff out a soft laugh, because damn he’s right. I’ve been crying a lot lately. I nod for him to go on.
“When Jeff Brady called to ask if I would be open to signing a deal with Boston after my contract ended in LA, I originally said no. I said no because I couldn’t stomach the thought of being in Boston. I couldn’t stomach the thought of being in Boston because my birth mother still lives here.”
I inhale sharply. Scott doesn’t acknowledge the sound or stop, he just reaches for my hands and squeezes them between his own.