“Not overly. But I talked to the AGM for Los Angeles on the way home, and then I was pretty pumped, so…here we are.” I gestured to the food lining the counters. Waffles, thick-cut bacon, whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries. And a bottle of real maple syrup, because my dad was Canadian and taught me how to do things right.

“Oh.” Her voice climbed in pitch, but it was strained. “So the call went well?”

She was feigning excitement for my benefit, that was obvious, but her tone held a hint of unease the minute the topic came up, same as the day we talked about it when I met her for lunch at Callingwood.

“It did.”

The waffle iron beeped, and I turned so I could remove the last waffle and set it on a plate. Once I switched off the iron and set down the white dish towel, I took a few steps to close the distance between us. I stood in front of where Bailey was perched on the counter and rested my hands on her thighs.

She looked at me, her expression unnaturally neutral. But she wasn’t good at concealing her feelings. Her eyelids fluttered as I skimmed my fingers along her jawline until I was cupping her face.

“Are you worried about what will happen to us if I leave, James?”

“Kinda.” Her eyes flashed with uncertainty. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess I figured we would make it work.”

Maybe it was stupid of me to assume, but it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be an alternative. I didn’t see her presence in my life as optional. Hopefully, she felt the same way.

Bailey’s forehead crinkled and her voice was quiet, hesitant. “How?”

Good question. I hadn’t thought through the specifics yet. I’d been too focused on all the things that would come before that. But it didn’t seem that hard—we could visit each other when our schedules allowed, and we could talk all the time. Maybe that line of thinking was naïve, though, given that the vast majority of guys I knew who’d attempted long-distance said differently. I’d heard horror stories about everything from constant fights to cheating. One of my former teammates found out by seeing a picture of his girlfriend kissing another guy on Instagram. But we were different; neither of us would even consider doing something like that. That was my theory and I was sticking to it, anyway.

“Racking up lots of reward miles flying back and forth? FaceTime? Sheer stubbornness? You know I’ve got lots of the last one; it must count for something.”

“Okay.” She looked down at the counter and gave a one-shoulder shrug. Because she didn’t believe me about making it work? Or she didn’t want to try?