“Blaire, wait. What did I say?” He put a hand on my shoulder, and I hated myself for the full-body shiver that his touch induced.

“Absolutely nothing, Axel. It’s fine.”

He turned me gently to face him. “That’s twice you’ve said, ‘fine,’ which means something is undoubtedly not fine. Tell me,” he demanded quietly, his long fingers stroking up one side of my neck.

I crossed my arms over my chest defensively and tried not to look at his bare, chiseled chest. God, he looks good. “You obviously don’t trust me with your passcode. It’s not like I was going to snoop in your phone or something.” Shit, I sound like a whiny teenager.

“That’s not why I didn’t want to tell you my passcode. It’s…” He let out a long sigh. “It’s 1024, okay?” he mumbled reluctantly, lowering his chin but watching my eyes warily for my reaction.

It clicked. “Ten, twenty-four? My birthday?” I asked in disbelief, and he nodded, his teeth sinking into his lower lip and drawing my gaze there. Why the hell did he have my birthday as his passcode? I was surprised he even remembered my birthday after all these years. “Why would you do that, Ax?”

He ran the backs of his fingers slowly down my cheek, and the touch was so gentle and intimate I almost couldn’t stand it. “Why do you think?” he asked quietly, his eyes lingering on mine.

No. It couldn’t be. I wasn’t ready to hear this right now. I took a step back and said, “You need to get onto the field, Axel. We’ll talk later, okay?”

His lips pulled downward at the edges at my dismissal, but he nodded and stepped away.

15. Axel

Axel

I was wearing the parquet floor thin with my pacing in the foyer of my apartment, waiting for Blaire to show up. God, I was as nervous as a baby in a titty bar. I jumped when the phone beside the door rang and almost tripped over my own feet in my haste to answer it.

“Mr. Broxton, there’s a Blaire Cavanaugh here to see you.”

“Send her up, please. And also add her to my approved guest list.”

“Will do, sir.”

I paced some more as I waited for her to come up in the elevator. I loved our playful, flirty banter at the stadium earlier today. It felt like old times… except during the old times, Blaire wasn’t married. She was mine. But we did share a child, and that’s what tonight was all about.

She finally knocked on the door, and I had to restrain myself from dashing to the door like an eager beaver and slinging it open. Instead, I counted to five and then opened the door like a somewhat reasonable person. “Hi, Blaire. I’m so glad you’re here,” I said with a calmness I didn’t feel.