Knot So Lucky (Destination Love, #1)(76)

“And put him on top of you,” Millie adds, making the three of us laugh.

They set me free from the world’s longest hug as we all take a deep breath.

“What if he doesn’t want me? I wrote the note. I bailed, knowing he would respect my choice. I fucked up, and now, what if there’s no window?”

Sami kisses my cheek before stepping back.

“He left you tickets for the season opener. He told Alec, ‘If she wants me, she can come and get me.’”

Millie’s face snaps to Samantha’s like this is a piece of information she didn’t know either. My heart starts racing as I rush out my words.

“When is it? I’ll go.” I look at Millie. “We’ll go?”

She nods enthusiastically as Samantha pulls the information up on her phone and winces before saying the one thing that I don’t want her to.

“It started an hour ago.”

There are times in my life when I’ve thought I love my sister so much it hurt, but right now is not one of those times.

I look between them, feeling my heart start to pump and my nod get bigger and bigger as I speak.

“I’m a boss bitch.” Sami nods, her eyes widening. “I can have it all.” Millie throws her arms in the air as my voice thunders, “I can even leave it with someone to watch and go get the rest of it.”

“Yeahhhhh,” they both yell back like frat bros until Sami holds up a hand looking confused. “Are you leaving me here with the salon?”

“Yes, Samantha,” I exhale harshly, laughing as Millie’s already swinging the door open. “But rest assured I will plot your disappearance. Right now, I just have a game to crash.”





thirty-three





“Thanks for finally screaming my name.”





eleanor


To say this stadium is loud is an understatement.

It feels like every single person in the Bay Area has shown up today. I couldn’t even tell you who the other team is because all anyone can see from section to section is red and gold.

But I genuinely don’t care about any of that.

All I know is that without really thinking this through, Millie and I left the salon in Sami’s hands, jumped in an Uber, and barely let it slow down before diving out to get our tickets.

Now we’re standing in the front row of section 138, wearing heels and cocktail dresses, listening to people grumble that we’re down.

“This is stupid. Why am I doing this?” I breathe out, looking at Millie. “This. Is. Stupid.”

Millie grabs both of my shoulders, squaring me off to her.

“This is not stupid. You are fucking epic.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling too big. “It’s like the ending scene in a romantic comedy. This is your Josie Grossie moment.”

I wish I’d never been kissed because I’m fucking dying over here.

“Orrrr,” I counter. “It’s like a scene in that horror movie with Leonardo DiCaprio where he realizes his reality is all a delusion in his head and he’s actually fucking crazy.”

I turn away, gripping the railing in front of me, looking down at the empty 49ers bench because it’s halftime.

“Oh god. He sat through the first half of the game thinking that I didn’t want him. And now I’m supposed to do what? Say ‘psych’? Or April-September Fools’ Day?”

Fuck.

Millie spreads her arms, looking around.

“How about ‘sorry I’m late…’” she says weakly, trying to stay positive.

But I’m fucking sweating, so much. And my mind just keeps vacillating between “this is an atrociously bad idea” to “hell yes, I’m doing this,” basically making me want to vomit.

“I think I have heartburn,” I say, letting out a whoosh of air and rubbing my chest again. “Can you get heartburn from anxiety?”

She’s nodding, suddenly fixing my hair as music starts blaring and the crowd goes wild. It’s the most earth-shattering noise I’ve ever heard. People start chanting, and Millie is fully jumping in place, pointing toward the tunnel.

My head swings in that direction, seeing the team running back onto the field.

Oh my god. It’s happening. This is happening.

I feel like I can’t breathe.

Millie’s smacking my arm, so I slap her hand away, feeling more nervous than I’ve ever felt in my whole life. I’m searching over a sea of helmets, just trying to look for his number, but I don’t see him.

“Where are you, QB?” I whisper to myself.

Suited-up behemoth after behemoth runs out, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Oh my god, did he get injured or something?

“Millie,” I rush out, grabbing her hand, still looking at the field. “Google and see if he got injured or something. I don’t see him.”

But she almost gives me whiplash when she spins my body in the right direction as she yells, “There he is. There’s your guy.”

Jesus Christ, I’d almost forgotten how fucking gorgeous he is. Crew’s running on last and takes my breath away. That’s my QB-Wan.

My lips part, wanting to yell something, but then I start to look around because Houston, we have a problem. The bench is packed full of people.