Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
After we’re both dried off, dressed at the table eating—both of us with a fork but sharing the huge plate of food—Bain drops a casual question that somehow feels like a bomb. “What do you think of my place? Do you like staying here?”
“Your master bathroom is so much nicer than mine,” I say. My house—or rather the one Drake bought when he moved here and lets me live in rent-free for helping with the boys—is a bit older. Bain lives in a condo, but it’s spacious with tons of windows with amazing views and it’s brand spanking new.
“We should consider moving in together,” he says, and my fork freezes halfway to my mouth.
He grins at me. “What? It’s not so unusual to be thinking of these things.”
I lower my hand. “It is when you have two people who don’t do relationships. You’ve never wanted one or even tried it, and I’ve had a horrible experience. It’s a huge commitment.”
Bain’s knee nudges mine under the table. “So is having a baby together.”
“Fair point,” I concede.
“I’m just saying,” he says as he picks up the fork I’d laid down, scoops up the bite I’d discarded and holds it out for me to eat. I lean over and accept being fed with no thought. “I’ve committed to helping you through this pregnancy. We already spend every night together. Why don’t we just pick a place and stay there?”
“Move in together, you mean.”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. Pick a place.”
“Where would you want to stay?” I ask curiously.
Bain shrugs, hands me my fork and picks up his own. “Your place is bigger and has a yard. Mine is newer and closer to the arena.”
“We won’t need a yard right away,” I muse.
“Unless we get a dog,” he says with a wink.
“Let’s just start with a baby and see how it goes.” I cut into another bite of omelet, chewing on the food and the idea. “This place is big enough. You have three bedrooms and the middle one could be the nursery.”
Bain grins at me. “You said nursery.”
I frown at him as he chuckles. “What about it?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just… sometimes a word comes up dealing with the baby and it’s like a slap upside the head that this is so real. And I mean a slap in a good way. It just tickles me.”
And there it is… another slide of my heart closer to the cliff’s edge, ready to topple all the way over for this man.
“One other thing,” Bain says as he stares at me, his expression hard. “My place is closer to Pitt. You’re going back to school and this will make your commute easier.”
“But I—”
Bain reaches across the table and claps his hand over my mouth. “I don’t want to hear a single negative thing about you going back to school. I promised Drake I’d work hand in hand with him to get you there. So accept it, okay?”
I stare at him, feeling that traitorous, blood-pumping organ in my chest take a flying leap off the edge of the relationship cliff. But I can’t let him get away with covering my mouth and shutting off my words.
I give him a long lick on the palm of his hand and he jerks it away, just the way Drake did when he tried to silence me that way. “Gross.”
Grinning, I watch as he wipes it with his napkin. “Okay… let’s make your condo our place.”
Bain’s eyes shoot up to lock with mine. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
CHAPTER 27
Bain
You would think that for an outdoor memorial to commemorate the tragic plane crash that killed forty people associated with the Pittsburgh Titans organization, occurring in February, there would be a gray cast to the sky with the threat of precipitation to set the mood. I equate sad occasions with dreary weather.
But today, February 20, it’s mild, climbing into the mid-fifties with bright sun. The gathering is being held at the new monument Brienne had commissioned to be unveiled today and is open to the public. It sits on the outermost perimeter of the arena property, no more than fifty yards from the Allegheny River, and the design holds a ton of meaning. A roped-off area is provided with security for where the VIP guests will sit, such as the actual players, their families, executives in the organization and the widows and widowers who have chosen to attend. The rest of the crowd will spill into the arena parking lot, but there’s a stage with a jumbo screen set behind it so everyone in attendance can hear and see what’s going on.
When the large fabric covering is pulled off the monument, there’s a collective gasp from the audience. I’d not seen the mockup of it, although Kiera had. She stands beside me, our hands clasped.
Brienne, on the stage, says into the microphone, “I present to you ‘Titans’ Valor.’” She goes on to explain the design, which is now being shown on the massive screen. “We commissioned local artisan Wayne Whitely who constructed this amazing piece from local Pennsylvania bluestone. The abstract sculpture swirls from the base over twenty feet high in fluid, graceful lines that represent the motion of our players on the ice. The inside planes are left with roughened edges to represent the trials and tribulations of the sport. At the base are forty individual plinths that represent our dear friends who died in the crash, along with their names and likenesses carved into the stone. And if the cameraman can show it… yes, there, thank you—it reads, ‘In memory of our fallen Titans. Your spirit, your passion and your legacy will never be forgotten.’”