Page 185 of ClickBack

“Now.”

I lift the tissue and take out the earrings. They are small and gold, curved so the light catches along one side. I can picture them on her before she takes one from me and holds it beside her face.

“I got taste,” I say.

“You have never seen them before this second.”

“Still got taste.”

She laughs and puts the earring back. I get the clasp on her dress while she faces away from me. She steps out of it, hangs it over the chair, then comes back to stand between my knees when I sit on the bed.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome.”

I pull her closer. There is no argument about whether I needed to buy them, no explanation of what she could have bought herself. She chose something she liked. I got to give it to her. I can enjoy that without making it bigger than it is.

She touches my face, tracing the corner of my mouth with her thumb.

“What was the rest of your plan?”

“You still on that?”

“I’m curious.”

I could make something up about flowers, a table I booked, a view better than the one we have. The truth is that I had spent more time thinking about her answer than anything I might arrange around the question.

“I wanted to tell you without making it sound like something I was saying because I wanted something else.”

“You do want something else.”

“A lot of things.” I put my hands at her hips. “Doesn’t change what I said.”

She looks at me carefully, then nods. “It doesn’t change mine, either.”

I bring her down beside me and kiss her. She is still smiling when we separate.

“I liked hearing it,” she says.

“Good. You’re going to hear it again.”

She reaches across me to turn off the lamp, then settles against me in the dark. I stay awake after her breathing slows, my hand resting where she put it. I had wanted a quiet minute alone with her. Now that I have one, I don’t want to sleep through it.

Chapter 33

Jarrett

Cam calls Tuesday morning while I’m drinking orange juice out of a mug with Zion’s fourth-grade picture on it. Giselle is at the kitchen counter marking something in red. She has tucked one side of her bob behind her ear, and it keeps falling forward when she bends over the page.

“Philadelphia agreed,” Cam says.

I set the mug down.

“San Antonio?”

“San Antonio. Revised three-team deal. Everybody has agreed to the terms. We still have physicals and league approval, but we have a deal.”

Giselle’s pen stops.