“It’s perfect,” I tell him with a kiss.
Gray fairly tackles me when he opens my gift to him, a blue enamel Le Creuset Dutch oven, which is extravagant but something I’ve wanted to give him for a while. “I’m gonna cook you short ribs and brisket,” he promises between kisses. “And stew, and pot roast, and goulash…”
“We get it,” Fi cuts in, annoyed. “Now stop mauling my sister before I vomit.”
For dinner, Drew, Anna, and Gray’s closest teammates come over. Gray cooks us meatballs—Norwegian, not Swedish—and potatoes, which he says is a Grayson Christmas tradition. Dex acts as his sous chef and they spend the time bickering over Dex’s knife skills, while the rest of us snicker in the living room.
The guys treat me as if I’m one of them now, joking and randomly tousling my hair like I’m their kid sister. Gray has told Drew I’m pregnant, which means Anna knows by extension. They don’t mention it, but they’re careful to offer me apple cider when one of them grabs a beer. And I keep getting goofy grins from each of them at some point during dinner.
I don’t really mind; after all, I had told Fi about it, but it drives home the fact that I have a decision to make, and I need to do it sooner rather than later. Just thinking about it leaves me with the urge to run to my mother and hide away under her arm, which feels vaguely ironic, given that I’m considering motherhood.
As if he can hear me mentally worrying, Gray turns his head and catches my eye. A soft smile curls his lips, and he kisses my forehead. “No worries tonight, Ivy Mac.”
I rest my head on his shoulder for a moment. “Okay.”
“So,” Fi says, as I serve sticky-toffee pudding for desert. “Is there some standard thing to say to wish you guys luck on your game?”
“What, like a superstition?” Drew asks.
Fi nods.
“Good luck works for me.” Dex’s tone is uncharacteristically gruff, but I don’t miss the way his gaze keeps sliding toward Fi when she’s not looking. He sees me watching and promptly tucks into his pudding.
I don’t know much about the big center, other than he’s quiet, the team’s captain, and likes to paint. Bearded and tatted along his muscled arms, with a shock of wild brown hair that grows thick on his head, he’s hot in a broody, lumbersexual kind of way. Because, yeah, I can totally see him rocking a plaid shirt and chopping some wood. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, I turn my attention elsewhere.
For the rest of the dinner, I have fun. Only Gray seems off, his voice louder than usual when he tells a joke, his muscles tight, even when I put a hand on his neck and rub it. But he leans in close and whispers in my ear. “After these guys leave, I’m taking you out for a ride. I have a surprise.”
I waggle my brows. “Color me intrigued.”
“You’ll see soon enough.” Gray flashes a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. And I wonder if we’re both trying too hard to be brave.
* * *
Gray refuses to tell me where we’re going or why, or even give me a hint, which leaves me with all sorts of ideas, none of them based in reality. I’m up to guessing it’s a ride in the Goodyear blimp when we enter the campus.
He parks in front of the stadium, and my excitement turns to confusion. “Why are we here? If you think I’m playing some random game of midnight touch football on a full stomach, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“No football, I promise.” He’s grinning like a kid on a snow day. “You’ll see. Come on.”
Taking my hand, he leads me to one of the stadium’s side entrances.
“Are we allowed to be here?”
Gray’s texting something on his phone, but gives me a quick look. “Now, Mac, you know me better. Of course not.”
I huff, but then the door opens and a security guard waves us in.
“Thanks, Rufus,” Gray says.
Rufus, an older, portly gentleman, give a gruff nod. “Just remember our deal and clean up after yourselves.”
“What was the promise?” I ask as we walk farther into the stadium and Rufus ambles off, his large frame waddling slightly.
“Tickets to the bowl game and that I don’t trash the place.”
“Ah.” I trot alongside Gray, whose hand has become slightly damp. He glances down at me a few times, his smile tight but his eyes shining as though excited.
All questions stop when I see the soft glow in the center of the field. A nest of blankets has been laid out along with a basket, camp lantern, and, a little ways away, a small heater.
Gray leads me to the spot. “I wanted to give you your last present here.”
“I get another present?” I sit on the blankets, curling my legs under me so that he has room. “Gimme.”
Gray laughs but pulls a carafe out of the basket. “Cocoa first.”
The little heater provides warmth, but not as much as Gray’s big body. I snuggle against him and drink cocoa. The dark stadium is still and quiet, the high, slanting sides looming up around us. Only a few lights by each end zone are on, shining a harsh, bluish white. “It kind of feels like we’re in the bowels of a space ship.”
Gray shifts closer, and his chin rests against my shoulder. “I guess it kind of does now. I’ve never been here when it’s dark like this.” I feel his head turn and know he’s looking around. His voice lowers to reverence. “To me, it’s a cathedral. I sit here and I feel calm, centered. And yet it’s like all the energy of games past remains, coursing through my veins, and I can’t wait for the next game.” My hand finds his, and I hold it as he continues. “I don’t even think it matters what stadium I’m in. It just feels right.” Soft lips brush along my neck. “The same way you feel right.”