As we weave through traffic, my mind time-travels to yesterday in Katie’s studio. How incredible it felt to make love to her. It slips back further to the days we’ve spent at my home, the conversations we’ve had. I wind all the way back to more than seven years ago when I met her.
How we clicked instantly.
But then fate threw obstacles at us left and right, up and down. Timing has always vexed us.
But look what Katie did today. She sped up time. She took it in her hands and said I’m doing this.
I grin as I think of her, my tough and sweet and sexy and strong Katie.
She made this happen.
She made us happen.
When my mind leaps ahead to this weekend, and the next one, and the one after that, I know what I can make happen.
I have no more questions.
Only clarity.
I text her one more time.
Harlan: Can’t wait to see you. Can’t wait to tell you something big.
30
Harlan
I only have eyes for her.
I march straight over to my Katie, sweep her up in my arms in the lobby of her building, and kiss the breath out of her.
She melts into my kiss in seconds, murmuring and sighing as I sweep my lips across hers.
It’s been twenty-four hours since I touched her, and already that feels too long. That only confirms what I’m about to do.
I set her down, and she gazes at me, woozy and happy. “Whoa. That was quite a greeting.”
I can’t wait a second longer to tell her. “I know what I want to do at the end of the season. And you’re the first person I want to tell,” I say with a newfound certainty.
And a calmness too. My brain is no longer full of questions—only answers.
But the sound of clapping reaches us. With Katie still in my arms, I swing my gaze to the right. A woman—I presume her sister—is cheering us on, and a guy in black glasses claps along with her.
Meanwhile, Katie grins at me, then holds up a finger. “I’m dying to know, but I do have to go see Lacey. We have a meeting with her in about ten minutes to let her know what’s going on and that I need to step back.”
Damn.
My heart craters.
I want to spend the rest of the night with Katie.
A throat clears, and the blonde who’d been cheering now closes the distance, stretching her hand out to me as I set Katie down.
“Hi. I’m Olive Madigan. You better be good to my sister or I will kick your ass,” she says.
I flinch, which I don’t do even when linebackers steamroll me. But there is something hella scary about that sister bond. Plus, I’m pretty sure Katie delivered a similar warning to Jones all those years ago. It’s just . . . hot when women look out for each other.
“I will be so damn good to her. You have my word, Olive,” I say from the bottom of my heart.
Olive lifts her chin and holds my gaze. “Good.” Then she turns to Katie. “Now, you’re excused from the meeting. Zachary and I can handle it. We’ve got this. Go be with your man.”
Katie gasps. “For real?”
Olive rolls her eyes. “For real. Seriously. Go.”
“Tell Lacey I’m so grateful for the opportunity. That I loved it,” Katie says, her voice brimming with excitement.
“Tell her I loved it too,” I say drily.
“Somehow I doubt the team will be upset with you about a thing.” Olive’s tone is equally dry.
“Tell her anyway,” I add.
“I will,” Olive says.
“You guys are the best. You really don’t mind?” Katie asks.
“We’ll take it from here.”
“We’ve got this covered,” the guy in glasses chimes in. Then to me, he says, “Good luck Sunday. I’ll be rooting for you to clinch.”
“We all will,” Olive says, then grabs the guy’s arm, and they take off.
I return my gaze to Katie, but not before I do a quick sweep of the lobby. A receptionist tries to keep herself busy at the desk, but I can tell she’s also trying just as hard to listen.
The elevator stops, lets off passengers. Someone enters through the revolving door.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re at my home, since it’s closer.
The second the door shuts, Katie parks her hands on her hips. “Spill. I waited during that whole Lyft ride. And it was hard. Really hard.”
I laugh and loop an arm around her waist, tugging her close. “I’m so proud of you, my sexy, impatient, brilliant, tough, gutsy woman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere. Talk. I am dying to know what you decided. I updated you on my day the whole ride over. I told you every detail.”
I swipe my thumb along her jaw, laughing at her greedy heart.
It matches mine.
And my greedy heart doesn’t want to wait a second longer. I won’t let timing rule my choices. I’m done with waiting, and planning, and hoping.