“Sure,” I agree. “But I’ve never confirmed it.”
His eyes heat. “And you want to do that?”
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.
He holds my gaze and I’m sure he’s searching to see if there’s any part of me that’s unsure. “Okay,” he agrees.
Fisher wraps his arm around me, and I press a hand to his chest—classic couple’s pose. He smiles down at me and at the last second I press up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
He groans, low in his throat, and cups my cheek. I don’t know if he means to, but he deepens this kiss, his tongue swiping against my bottom lip. He swallows my moan with one of his own. I want to keep kissing him, but we’re in a public location and my brother’s girlfriend is literally taking photos of us, so I pull away and scurry over to grab my phone from her.
“Thanks,” I say breathlessly.
“Thankyoufor the show,” she teases. “That was hot.”
My skin heats with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I like seeing you exist in the moment.” She gives my arm a squeeze before she runs over to join my brother. He scoops her up easily, swinging her around.
The warmth of Fisher’s body descends on mine. “Get what you want?”
“Huh?” I blurt dumbly.
He jerks his head at the phone in my hand. “Your photos.”
I unlock the phone and flick through the photos Whimsy snapped of us. We lookhottogether. The first photo is the safest to share—the kiss is borderline R rated after that.
“Yeah, these are perfect.”
He gives me a knowing smirk. “Good.”
CHAPTER 41
EBBA
I closemy laptop and let out an exhausted sigh. Crossing my arms, I lay them flat on my computer and bury my head in the open space.
It’s official—therapy is exhausting. It’s only my second session with the online therapist that came highly recommended by some of my social media friends. I was lucky that Dr. Maher was able to fit me in relatively quickly—three weeks after the Australian Open. She was reluctant to agree to do this second session so soon—only a week after the first—but I knew if I waited too long, I’d talk myself out of it so she agreed to do weekly sessions for the first month or two before we stretch them out more.
I realize now that there’s been a part of me who thought I didn’t deserve to talk to a therapist. That my life hadn’t been awful enough to merit needing one, but just with two sessions I realize how much anyone can benefit from having one to talk to.
The door to the hotel room chimes and I slowly rise to see Fisher entering.
His brows furrow as soon as he spots me hunched over the desk.
“Everything okay?” he asks, letting the door close behind him as he hurries to my side.
“Yeah, I just didn’t anticipate therapy being so exhausting.”
His warm hands grip my shoulders, softly kneading into my flesh. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
I think it over for a moment. “Could we order pizza and rent a movie?”
He doesn’t hesitate when he says, “Of course.”
We’re in California now, ahead of Indian Wells beginning in just a few days. After the Australian Open my brother and Noah both competed at the Dallas ATP. They played each other in the final and I was happy to see Elias come out on top.
“Where do you want pizza from?” he asks. “Do you have a favorite place around here?”