Love the One You're With(82)

Cole took a half step toward her, and then Grace knew. She couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this,” she said aloud, putting up a hand to stop Cole from coming any closer.

But Cole wasn’t moving toward her.

And nobody seemed to have heard her protest. They were all staring at …

It took Grace several seconds to see what everybody else, including all three of the cameras, was seeing.

Jake.

“I sense an impending photo op,” Riley said happily from behind her.

Cole started to move out of the way, but apparently he wasn’t fast enough, because Jake none too gently pulled the back of Cole’s shirt, roughly shoving his friend aside.

He was in jeans and a cheap-looking Yankees shirt, looking completely ruffled. Almost as if he’d come from Costa Rica to Yankee Stadium on foot.

For her.

He’d come for her.

Her eyes watered. “Jake—”

He shook his head, and instead of saying a word, he hooked a hand behind her neck as his other one went around her lower back, jerking her toward him as his lips found hers.

Perfect. It was utterly perfect.

Firm lips nudged hers just slightly apart as they moved over hers, both demanding and gentle, making love to her mouth in sweet, simple kisses that were both completely audience-appropriate and unbearably seductive.

Slowly her hands came up, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“Jake.” It was a whisper. A plea that this was real.

Dimly she became aware of the escalating noise from the crowd. Of Riley and Julie’s ecstatic whoops and someone—Cole?—hollering for them to get a room.

Slowly they pulled away, although Grace held off opening her eyes until the very last minute.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

It wasn’t.

She was standing in Jake Malone’s arms for all of Yankee Stadium and three different cameras to see.

“You came,” she said quietly.

He rested his forehead on hers, a rueful smile on his face. “Too much? It was too much, wasn’t it? I feel like Tom Hanks would have been a little more subtle. None of this pull-the-other-guy-by-the-shirt-so-he-doesn’t-touch-my-girl stuff—”

“Speaking of which, you owe me!” Cole said, yelling to be heard over the crowd.

They both ignored him.

“It was a little overdone,” she said, once she finally found her voice. “Plus now you’ve gone and set the bar so high. All your other girls will be wanting big gestures, and I know you’ll only set foot in Yankee Stadium once—”

His face sobered. “No other girls, Grace. And no other guys, either. Not for you.”

Her smile dimmed. “This conversation feels familiar. Soon to be followed up with ‘Hey, baby, I’m off to Costa Rica.’ And speaking of which … aren’t you supposed to be there?”

Jake’s eyes closed briefly. “Grace, I—”

Grace 1.0 would have kissed away his apologies, while 2.0 would have kneed him in the balls and told him just where to shove his apologies.

But this Grace, the real Grace—who she was when she wasn’t trying to be anything or stop being anything—did neither of those.

This Grace loved. And because she loved, she listened.

“It’s like this,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ve had this itch. It’s always in the same spot, always right between my shoulder blades. And I know that sounds like some sort of weird disease or mental problem, and maybe it is the latter, because I equated it all to this idiotic idea that something was missing in my life.”

Eesh. And she thought she’d been off the deep end with that 1.0 and 2.0 stuff.

“I thought it was adventure that was missing,” he rushed on, oblivious to the increasingly impatient crowd who wanted to see fireworks, not conversation. “I thought the road would fix everything, but the second I got to Costa Rica, it was all wrong.”

Grace took in a deep, shaky breath, not wanting to let herself hope, but hoping all the time.

Both of his hands moved up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Julie made a gushing awww noise. Grace knew how Julie felt. It was a good move.

“I did need a change, Grace. I’d gotten sick of myself, and for good reason. I was a lot of crap and not a lot of substance.”

“Here, here,” Cole muttered.

Jake forged on. “But I didn’t see the change when it was right in front of me.” His eyes moved fondly over her face as he smoothed a strand of hair back into her now messy ponytail. “You were the change I needed. I do want to be a one-woman kind of guy, Grace. But here’s the part I forgot to mention the other day. I’ve wanted to be a one-woman kind of guy for a long time.”