“Lots of people get divorced, you know,” I say. “Ball players haven’t cornered the market.”

“I just … it just scares me I guess.”

“What scares you?”

He looks at some pictures of his nieces on the bookshelf. “I couldn’t imagine having kids and not seeing them.”

I can’t help shifting my feet nervously. “Are you sure you don’t?” I ask.

“Have kids? I’m sure,” he says, staring me down with truthful eyes. “Came close once.”

“Really?”

He nods. “I’m sure any shrink would tell you that’s why I’m like this. About four years ago when I was playing for the Hawks’ triple-A team in Vegas, I got a girl pregnant.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “What happened?”

He motions for me to follow him into the kitchen where he opens a bottle of wine. “She was a typical groupie. It’s amazing how many women hang out around minor league ball fields just waiting to sleep with anyone in a uniform.”

I take a glass from him and sip some wine as we each find a barstool. “They’re all a bunch of Tonys, just wanting to go along for the ride when someone hits it big.”

“Exactly,” he says. “See, you understand. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always trusted you. You never wanted anything from me. You’ve been taken advantage of, too. You know how it feels.”

I look around his apartment again. “Is that why I’m here? Because you trust me?”

“Yes. Well, that and I couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked in that dress on Saturday night.”

I blush. He has no idea how much I was hoping that dress would affect him. “So, the groupie?”

“She turned up pregnant after we’d been together a few times. I was young. Barely twenty-two. I didn’t know what I was going to do. She wasn’t even my girlfriend. I couldn’t imagine marrying her, but I knew I’d have a hard time not seeing any kid I’d brought into the world.”

“What happened? She didn’t get an abortion, did she? I mean, she wouldn’t have if she were trying to trap you.”

“She had a miscarriage shortly after she told me. It was a blessing in disguise. And a huge wake-up call for me. I made sure that would never happen again.”

I tilt my head to the side, studying him. “You telling me you’re celibate, Kessler?”

He laughs at my question. “No, Old Man Murphy, I’m not celibate. But I never trust a woman to take care of birth control. And I always double wrap.”

I almost spit out the drink of wine I’m taking. “Double wrap?”

“Yeah, you know—” He mimes putting on a condom and I feel my face turn a deep shade of red.

“I know what you mean, Caden. I don’t need a visual.”

The last thing I need right now is to picture him naked, rolling on a condom. I’m barely keeping it together as it is. Because whatever this thing is, I like it. I like him. I like his apartment. I like my apartment. I like my job. I like the way he’s looking at me right now. I like the way he makes me feel. And I realize for the first time in a long time, I’m truly happy.

He winks at me and stands up, holding out his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s make some steaks.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Caden

Watching Murphy eat is making me hard. Every time she cuts a piece of steak, she licks her lips. The lips I want to claim as mine. I’ve been thinking about kissing her all night. Every time she puts the wine glass to her mouth. Every time she talks. Every time a gorgeous smile cracks her face.

I wonder if she would be okay with me kissing her. Technically, this isn’t even a date. Can I kiss her if it’s not a date? Would she be mad if I did? Be upset if I didn’t?

“I finally told my mom,” she says. “I told her everything. About the accident, my roommates, my new job.”

“What did she say?”

“She’s coming out here in a few weeks. Says she wants to spend Thanksgiving with me, but I know she’s going to try and get me to move back to Iowa. She was pretty freaked out.”

I tense up. “But you don’t want to go, do you?”

I find myself holding in a breath until she answers.

She shakes her head. “No. I love my job.” She puts down her fork and looks me in the eyes. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you, Caden. When you first got me the job, I knew it was out of pity and I had no choice but to take it. I never expected it to turn into anything. But now, Jayden keeps telling me I have a head for business and I think I might be offered a promotion soon.”

“That’s great, Murph. And just so you know, nothing I’ve done for you was out of pity. Kindness maybe, but not pity.” I push my food around on my plate. “So, you love your job. Is that the only thing keeping you here?”

“No way. I love New York. I loved it even before I moved here. It’s where I belong. And now I have Trick and Lexi and—”

“Me,” I interrupt. I put my hand on top of hers and look her dead in the eyes so she understands my meaning. “You have me, Murphy. That is, if you want me.”

Her hand trembles underneath mine and I think I hear her breath hitch.

The kitchen timer goes off, alerting us that dessert is done.

I laugh as I get up from the table. “Saved by the bell, Murphy Brown. Stay here, I’ll get dessert.”

I clear our plates and bring them to the kitchen, looking back to see her taking some very large swallows of her wine.

I put the hot peach cobbler in front of her and take my seat. “Speaking of parents, my dad is in New York,” I say. “At least he was a few weeks ago.”

Her surprised eyes snap to mine. “What? I thought you didn’t have any contact with him.”

“I don’t. But he approached me on the street near your old place and then we had a confrontation outside the gym. I had Ethan do some digging and it turns out he’s not a drug addict anymore. He did some time in prison and I guess now he helps people get rehabilitated when they get out of jail. Owns a business and everything.”

“That’s great, Caden. What’s he like?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. I haven’t contacted him.”

“You think he wants your money or something?” she asks.

“At first I did. But now …” I look out the window and onto the city.

“Now you’re scared of what could happen if you take that step,” she says. “Everything is good in your life right now. You don’t want to rock the boat.”

I stare at her introspectively, wondering if she’s talking about me and my dad or me and her.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Do it, Caden. I would give anything to have my dad back, and now you have this opportunity to have yours. What if it turns out to be the best thing that ever happened to you? But you’ll never know unless you take the chance.”

I want to take her words and throw them right back at her—tell her that’s exactly why we should try this thing.

She pushes her plate away. “I’m stuffed,” she says, finishing off her wine. When I put down my fork, too, she grabs our plates and walks them over to the sink to wash them.

“Leave them,” I say, coming up behind her.

My body is almost touching hers. My breath flows over her neck. I can see the fine hairs on her arm stand at attention. But she keeps washing. And I keep standing where I am—close enough to feel the heat between us, but far enough so she doesn’t feel my own growing reaction.

She finishes and turns around. I brace my arms on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. “I have a very important question to ask you, Murph.”

Her eyes close briefly and she takes in a shaky breath as she looks up at me. I pull a hand away from the counter and brush my thumb across the scar on her cheekbone. We lock eyes and I try to convey everything I want to say, but am afraid to.

I drop my hand and smile. “Comedy or sci-fi?”

“What?” she asks, looking confused. And maybe a bit flustered.

“Movies,” I say. “Do you prefer comedy or sci-fi?”

She blows out a relieved breath and then she giggles. “What if I say romance?”

Damn I love that sound. I find myself searching for something funny to say so she’ll make it again.

“I’d say you’re out of luck. Because the last time I checked, I’m a guy.”

And there it is.

“I’m kidding,” she says. “I wouldn’t make you watch a romance.”

“Come on.” I grab her hand and pull her towards the hallway.

“Uh, Caden?” she says, hesitating. “Where exactly are you planning on watching this movie?”

“My theater room.”

“You have a theater room?” Her eyes go wide before she rolls them. “Of course you do.”

I escort her down the hall and into the first door on the left. I flip on the lights and let her look around. The walls aren’t lined with movie posters, they are lined with old jerseys of mine. I kept one from every team I’d ever played on, all the way back to T-Ball.

“Oh my gosh,” she says, walking from jersey to jersey, touching some of them. Then she turns around, biting her lip in thought. “Did the Nighthawks make you change your number?”

Every jersey hanging in this room has #27 on the back. It’s been my number since I was a kid. Right up until my sister went missing a few years ago. “Eight was Lexi’s favorite number,” I tell her. “She grew up bugging me to change it, but I never did. Not until she was gone.”

“So, you changed to number eight for her. What an incredible gesture. And it worked. She came back.” She smiles and looks at my jerseys again. “Lexi and I have become close and I know a little of what happened to her, but I didn’t know that.”