Page 75 of Cross My Heart

“Me too.” Josh took a deep breath of his shirt, trying to memorize the scent of him. “But we’ll figure this out, okay? It’s only for a little while.”

Nadia glanced back at them, then again in the mirror, her expression softening. “Distance sucks, but you deal.”

“Deal.” Tyler chuckled and nodded above Josh. “Agree.” She didn’t know that deal had become a kind of code word between them. She wasn’t wrong.

“And for God’s sake, don’t get all macho and stupid. And that goes for both of you.” Nadia glanced to the side and changed lanes. “Just listen. Set expectations. Tell the truth. Don’t let stuff fester. Make time.”

Josh nodded, trying to take her advice to heart. But his own fears still gnawed at him.

The drive turned out longer and shorter than he’d expected. Tyler got confirmation of his Vegas car service on the other end, and he showed the screen to Josh as if proving he was taken care of, that everything would be okay. As Josh watched, another chime as someone named “SwellsJim” texted the name and number of the assistant the team had assigned to get him situated upon arrival.

Tyler turned to him. “I gave them your info just in case. Emergency contact. I hope that’s okay. They had Nadia, but they need to be able to reach you.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Thanks.” In some office, an NFL secretary had typed in his number and done a Google search to file his basic details under “boyfriend.”

Some weak and sneaky part of Josh wanted to make a scene or beg him to stay. As off balance as Tyler seemed, all it would take was a nudge.

Except ultimatums could backfire.

Another chime on Tyler’s phone announced a dinner reservation had been made for him at a steakhouse and a new suit would be delivered especially for the press thing.

“Easy on the red meat.” Josh squeezed his big knee. “At least they’re trying to take care of you.”

Nadia was less impressed. “They better. As much money as you make them.”

Tyler stared out the window, still holding Josh close. “It’s just a press thing and some stills. Then I’ll go sit in the box with the owners. Dinner with the wives. Easy. The worst part is having to watch the game without getting on the field.”

Eventually, Nadia exited the freeway and followed the feeder onto a grid of streets that looked like an industrial park. Overhead, the dull roar of a plane confirmed they weren’t far now.

A sign indicated they should shift to the left two lanes. The airport loomed ahead, and dread pooled in Josh’s stomach. He wasn’t ready to let Tyler go.

As they took the long, banked curve toward the terminal, Josh gave up on stupid what-ifs and just tried to memorize each detail of Tyler pressed beside him for later. The cars started to bunch up as they approached the terminal, but Nadia kept to the outside lanes, peering ahead as she navigated the traffic.

Even from a couple hundred yards away, Josh could see the swarm of people near the terminal doors.

From up front, Nadia grunted. “Told you.”

“Sorry, gang.” Tyler craned to see. “One of the Swells press reps must have leaked it for the bump. I’m not even flying commercial.”

Sure enough, the drop-off lane was deadlocked, an ugly crush of legitimate passengers trying to get past news vans and the scrum of reporters and their crews.

“Holy crap.” Josh’s pulse quickened.

Nadia scanned the crowd but kept on moving. “Everybody wants to get their hands on America’s Tightest End.”

On the curb, paparazzi and a couple of reporters jostled for position, cameras at the ready. Passengers shoved past them, but the TV crews shoved back.

Beside Josh, Tyler’s whole body tensed. “Here we go,” he muttered.

Josh gave his big hand one last squeeze. It was time to say goodbye. The next time they were this close, everything would be different.

“I don’t believe it. You see?” Tyler tapped on the window and leaned toward the front seat. He pointed at a bright red head among the crush of press waiting to ambush them. “Cilla Miller.”

Nadia nodded. “The better to eat you, my dear.”

Josh craned to see. “It sure is. Isn’t this out of her way?”

“Absolutely. From San Diego? An hour at least.” He glowered. “She’s an associate. She doesn’t even have a producer yet. How did she get herself here?”