“Your favorite,” he replies in a smug voice.
“No shit?” I peek over his shoulder, spotting the wheat-grain toast, hummus, avocado, roasted vegetables, and feta cheese. Scrambled eggs fill the pan in front of him. If he keeps to his usual regimen, there are two smoothies full of protein and vitamins waiting for us in the refrigerator. “That’s it. We’re going to the courthouse first thing tomorrow.” The words just . . . slip out.
Tahegin startles, the spatula in his hand catching air before crashing to the tile at our feet. I pull away from him and use the action of picking up the dropped utensil to hide the blush warming my face. He clears his throat as I deposit the spatula in the sink. “What . . . What did you mean by that?” he asks softly.
Pausing at the sink, I brace my hands on the counter to ground myself. The fluttering in my gut makes it feel as if I might float away without an anchor. “Um, you know,” I mutter into the sink. “It’s just a thing people say.”
“But what does it mean when you say it?”
I laugh nervously, barely breathing. “T, don’t make me say it.”
“You already said it. I’m just asking for clarification, and— Rix, will you look at me?” His hand lands on my shoulder, and he carefully urges me to face him. I turn, staring at our bare feet to avoid meeting his gaze. Of course, he can’t have that, and he stoops to catch my eye. “Hey.” He brushes a thumb across my burning cheek. “You’re cute when you blush.”
“Tahegin,” I groan, exasperated and embarrassed.
He points to his chin, then his chest, signing, “Tell me.”
Not fair.
I respond in kind, letting my hands say what my voice is too scared to. “It’s too soon. I know that. But I can see myself being with you forever, in any way you will have me. If that means marriage or domestic partnership, I am here for it.”
“You’re such a sap,” he teases, punching my shoulder playfully.
“Asshole,” I grumble.
“You love me.”
“Mhm,” I hum, accepting the lingering kiss he presses to my lips. “And you love me.”
He chuckles as he moves to divvy up our breakfast. All my favorites fill the plates, each one perking me up that much more despite the early hour. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” he says as he carries the plates to the two-seater bar.
Stopping at the fridge to grab the smoothies on my way, I join him at the table. “Should I be nervous?”
“No, no. Sit. Eat.” He waits until we’re both settled down to eat before continuing. “Basically, it’s an extension of what you said—or, signed, rather.”
“Okay . . .”
He takes a bite of toast, then washes it back with a gulp of green smoothie, stalling. “I . . . I’m tired of hiding.”
Oh.
“You outed yourself to Mathis. Do you ever see yourself, maybe, coming out to the public? Not a press announcement,” he quickly clarifies when he sees my look of horror. “Just out of the closet, you know? Being seen with-with me. As boyfriends.”
“What about the league?”
“Maybe we can get ahead of it. We make our relationship known on our own terms during the summer. That gives everyone a few months to get used to it.” Tahegin captures my hand, his sapphire blues open and vulnerable. “I want to get a house—together. No more of this ‘your place or mine.’ I want to come home to you every day. It’s not too soon, I don’t think. Not with the way I feel about you.”
I stare at him, searching for any doubt and finding none. He’s all in, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to be right there with him. Ride or die.
I give him my biggest grin, for once not worrying if he’ll be put off by my slightly crooked teeth because I trust that he’ll see it the same way I see his shoes on the floor, his laundry on the chair, and the dishes cluttering the kitchen counter.
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 33
TAHEGIN ELLINGSWORTH
“Congratulations,” I murmur in Hendrix’s ear as I wrap my arms around his bare torso. Warm water rains down on us from the showerhead, quickly soaking into my hair. I’m not sure how long Hendrix has been in here—it’s late, and I rolled over in my empty bed to hear the sound of water running in the bathroom—but his blond hair is already dark and thoroughly saturated. The Super Bowl was a few days ago, and save for a quick rendezvous in a supply closet at the stadium after the game and before the interviews, I haven’t seen Hendrix since we faced off on the field. He has texted here and there, but it’s basically been one huge team party at Aleks’ for the last few days—everyone crashing in his spare rooms only to wake up and party on. I was invited, but it didn’t feel right to go. It was a Rubies win. So, this is our first spoken conversation since the play clock hit zero on Sunday. “Busy day?”
“Busy few days.”
I rest my chin on his shoulder, enjoying this moment with him after having to sleep without him. “All partied out?”
“It was more than I could handle, honestly. I only lasted one night at Aleks’, and then I went to the other house—I didn’t want to disturb you,” he adds quickly. “We had to be at this team thing, and there were pictures and kids. I made friends with this one who is hearing-impaired. The, uh, press had a field day with that. Recorded us signing back and forth. Aleks convinced me to come back to his place after. Did you know he was going to have strippers? There were a lot of strippers.”
I smile to myself because, yeah, that sounds like Aleks.
“We customized our Super Bowl rings today.”
My stomach drops because of course I wanted to have a second championship ring of my own. I am still happy for him, though. “That’s exciting.”
“I think,” he says after a moment’s consideration, turning his head to face me. “I would have preferred being with you.”
“Really?” I stifle my giddy grin into his shoulder. “Not the strippers?”
“Depends. Are you the stripper?”
We both laugh, and Hendrix spins in my arms to face me. His arms lock around my waist as I throw mine over his shoulders. Our bodies press together, bare chests to abs to growing erections.
