Page 72 of Power Play

“We can still revise it. The last thing I want is for you to feel cheated, like you’ve given up something to be with me. I’ve already updated my will so everything goes to you⁠—”

“You did what?” I stare at him.

“You’re my wife. You’re entitled to it. Most of it is in a trust for Emmy, but if something happens to me, you’ll have plenty.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions right away. But Riley…” His eyes meet mine, the weight of his gaze heavy with meaning. “If you’re scared of starting something with me because of Emmy, you don’t need to be. I swear, I will never take our kid away from you, and I’ll sign anything you need me to in order to make that happen.”

“I’m scared.” The words fall off my lips as a whisper.

“You don’t have to be.” Al reaches for me. “We can work this out. Take it slow.”

“I like slow.”

With the last hurdles out of the way, I finally feel like I can do this. We can do this. I squeeze his hand, lacing my fingers through his. The scratch of his calloused palm against mine feels so fucking good. How can simply holding hands feel so monumentally right?

He ducks his head, his warm breath fanning over my lips. I arch my neck, reaching for him, and⁠—

“There you are!” Jenkins calls.

“Fuck,” Al mutters, the word puffing over me.

“Come on, we’re about to sit down for dinner.” Jenkins disappears down the hallway, holding the door open for us expectantly, as if he’s afraid we’ll bolt if he doesn’t escort us.

Not going to lie, the idea of running away doesn’t sound half bad.

My husband pulls back, clearing his throat.

“Let’s go eat some turkey with my teammates,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Make the most of this.”

Somehow, I don’t think he’s only talking about dinner.