Page 85 of The Virgin Game Plan (Rules of Love 2)
“Because what if things don’t go the way I planned? With my job?” I ask, then I give him the details on who Reese is. “Trouble is, I have no idea what to expect. Or what this might mean for my career.”
“You’re happy? You love her?”
“So much. But I also want to be in a position to help you and Mom.”
He laughs. “You always have to have a plan, don’t you? But maybe we have plans too.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re going to be okay. We have retirement accounts. We don’t expect you to take care of us. Maybe you want to level us up, and sure, that’s nice. But we’re regular people – we don’t need to live in a mansion our son buys us or go to Fiji. We’re happy with our lives as they are. And you don’t have to worry about us. All we want is your love. Take care of your woman. That’s the plan you ought to be working on.”
As soon as he says that, I know where I need to be right now. Not talking to him. Not trying to find Josh. Not thinking about Edward Thompson.
Jumping up from the bench, I end the call and ring Reese, walking in the direction of her neighborhood. “How did it go, beautiful?”
“I’m on my way home.” She sounds tired, but hopeful.
“Was it hard?”
“Yes. But it was good.”
“Do you need a hug?”
“I’d love one,” she says.
“Then stop hiding your address from me, woman,” I say with a smile. “So I can give you a big hug.”
She laughs and texts me her address, and twenty minutes later, I bound up the steps of her house and knock on the door.
She swings it open, and I step inside.
In the foyer, I wrap her in my arms, gathering her close, inhaling her hair, feeling like whatever happens next, it’s going to be just fine because here we are.
But there’s someone else here too. Someone clearing her throat. I break the embrace and see a woman with jet-black hair staring at us expectantly, with humorous impatience.
“Holden, this is Tia,” Reese says, gesturing to her friend.
I step toward Tia to shake her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s great to meet you.”
“You’ll meet Layla at the game tonight too,” Reese says, then turns back to Tia. “And Tia, this is Holden, my boyfriend.”
Tia smiles widely. “Finally, I get to meet the man whose arms I’ve been hearing about for the last two years.”
“I hope all of me lives up to what she’s been saying.”
“I hope so too,” she says dryly. I take that as a warning as she heads into the other room.
Reese leads me to her studio on the other side of the house. We sit on the bed, and I reach for her hand. “Do you want to tell me about it? What happened this morning? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
She sighs, but it’s the sound of her opening up, not closing me out. “Actually, I do want to tell you. It’s weird not to. When I was thirteen, I found my dad with another woman. He didn’t know I saw him, since I never told him. My mom knew what was going on though, and she left him a few weeks later.”
When she pauses for a strengthening breath, I just wait. So far, this isn’t unexpected information, that her father cheated. It must have been hard to voice, let alone live through, but she sounds relieved to have said it. “So, I talked to him today and told him that I’d seen him. He apologized for a lot of things, which surprised me. And I think maybe he is changing. I guess that’s all that really matters.”
I squeeze her hand harder. “I’m glad to hear that.”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “When do you have to go to the ballpark?”
“A little later. I’m free if you want to watch the rest of Bull Durham,” I tease.
She pulls a face. “Do we have to?”
“No, beautiful. We can go to this new Vietnamese food truck I’ve heard about.”
“Now you’re talking my language.”
We leave, get some noodles, and talk. After, I take her hand, and we walk along the streets of San Francisco like that.
I’m not famous. There aren’t paparazzi waiting and watching my every move.
But still, holding her hand like this, I feel free.
Free to be together.
To know that we need each other.
When we reach her block, I tug her close, thread my hands through her hair, and kiss the breath out of her.
As I let go, she sighs with a “Wow.”
But then, something catches my eye, the way something familiar cues you to pay attention.
A car pulls away from the curb in front of Reese’s place. There’s a red-haired woman in the passenger seat. And behind the wheel is my coach.
