Page 88 of Leave It On The Field (Grand Slam 3)
ChapterTwenty-Seven
SOPHIE
November 4, 2022
“Seb. Too tight. I can’t breathe.”
When I wake up, Seb’s spooning me. Actually, it’s less of a spoon and more of a wrestling hold. He has one arm looped under my neck, the other around my chest, and his legs knotted around mine.
“What?” He slowly stirs out of sleep and starts uncoiling himself from my body. “Oh, sorry. I was having a nightmare.”
I roll over on my back and stroke his cheek. “Oh, baby. What was the nightmare about?”
“You were trying to leave me,” he says, pressing my hand to his face. “I think that’s why I was squeezing you.”
“I’ll never walk out on you again. No matter what. I promise. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I told you not to apologize. With everything that’s happened, I can’t believe you stayed strong as long as you did.” He leans over me and gives me a slow kiss. “Just tell me we’re good.”
“We’re perfect.” I groan as my stomach starts to roll. “Oh no, I think the cheesy bread is attacking me.”
“I told you. You can’t keep eating that crap. You have the most sensitive system in the world.” He starts running his fingers over my belly. “Do you want me to order ginger tea with cinnamon? It always makes you feel better.”
“Yes, please. Thanks, babe. You take such good care of me.”
“And I always will.” He kisses my stomach before he pushes himself off the bed. “What else do you want?”
“I don’t want any food right now, but there are a few things that I want—like life things. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”
“Oh,” he says, looking back at me. “Okay. Anything, Soph. You know that. You can have anything.”
He holds up his hand for me to pause while he orders his breakfast and my tea. When he’s done, he crawls back into bed with me.
“Tell me what you want,” he says as I lay my head on his shoulder.
“I only want two things.”
“Fine. Done and done.”
I hold up my hand. “No wait. Three.”
“And done.”
“You haven’t even heard what they are yet,” I say, smiling.
“Doesn’t matter. Done, done, and done. Anything. Just tell me what they are.”
“Well,” I say. “I’ve been thinking we should spend less time in Miami. It’s really where your fame is the most intense. Keep a small place there—like a condo on the beach—but move out of our house. Maybe we can make our primary residence somewhere we can live a little more normally.”
“Done. We’ll start packing right when we get back. Where do you want to go?”
“I was thinking about Michigan. You’ve always said you want to buy your own lake house there. Maybe we can get something south of where your parents are—halfway between Chicago and Grand Rapids. We would be close to both families, but not too close.”
“That sounds perfect.” He starts rubbing my back. “And it’s a good place to raise kids when we get to that point. We can start looking for a house when we’re up there next week. Done. What’s number two?”
“I want to buy a house in Blitzen too,” I say, looking up at him, “and start spending the majority of our summers up there when you retire.”
“We’re on the same page. I’ve already asked Nash about houses. He said the houses right on the lake don’t come on the market very often. He’s keeping his eyes open for us. We can look when we’re up there for their wedding in December.”
