“But isn’t it true that your parents are married, making her your stepsister?”
“For a time, yes, but that’s no longer the case. And being stepsiblings doesn’t actually make us related. We were never connected by blood, and we weren’t raised together, so we never looked at each other like that.”
“So what do you look at each other like?”
“Just a man and a woman.”
“Are you in love?”
For this, I look directly into the camera, hoping that she’s watching this, and say, “One hundred percent, yes.”
“I’m sure that comes as a disappointment for all the women out there to know you’re off the market,” Kimmel grins widely.
“I’m sure,” I reply with a tight smile of my own. Frankly, I don’t give a shit about other women. There’s only one that I care about.
“You said you’re expecting in a couple months?” I nod. “I’m sure you keep a tight schedule now that you’re in the off-season. What does Vista think of all this traveling? Is she enjoying the sights?”
I shift in my seat. “She’s at home, actually. Running a business takes a lot of time and commitment, so we thought it best for her to stay back.”
Kimmel’s brows shoot up. “Sounds interesting. What kind of business?”
“Physical therapy.”
A knowing smile spreads across his face. “You just came back from some time off following an injury that sidelined you for a couple months. Does her profession have anything to do with how you two got together?”
“I’m going to have to plead the fifth, Jimmy.” I laugh, sparking everyone else’s laughter. It’s better to keep them on their toes, smiling along, so they don’t turn this into some kind of witch hunt. As long as they feel connected in some way, everything will run smoothly.
“We have to take a break, but before we go, is there anything you’d like to say to Vista in case she’s watching tonight?”
I suck in a large breath, gathering my thoughts quickly. Finding the right camera, I stare into it as if she’s right there, looking back at me. I picture her tear-stained face the last time I saw her and tell her, “You were right, princess. It’s you and me. So don’t lock that door just yet. Make sure you leave a light on.”
As messages go, mine is pretty cryptic, but with a little thought, I hope if she’s watching she gets it.
After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, I leave Kimmel’s stage and climb into the back of the limo, giving my assistant instructions to take me straight back to the hotel and to book me on the first flight out. I’m not staying in L.A. another second. It’s time to go get my girl.
***
I step off the plane and stretch my limbs before I head off to baggage claim. It’s past midnight. I’m not sure how many hours I’ve been in the air, but it’s enough that I’m tired, sore, and grouchy. It feels so damn good to be back on solid ground. It feels even better knowing that Vista is less than an hour’s drive away.
Urgency grabs hold of me as I meander through the terminal and locate a cab. I was so focused on getting back, I didn’t bother setting up any travel plans. It’s probably better this way anyway. I don’t have to answer to anyone.
The streets are fairly clear of traffic at this time of night, and I don’t have to tell the driver to hurry. He has a natural lead foot and nothing is in his way, so I sit back and pull out my phone. I’m sure she’s asleep by now, and I don’t want to disturb her, but there’s a little part of me that’s too impatient to hear Vista’s voice to wait.
“I’m sorry. The person you are calling isn’t answering their phone. Please leave a message and they will get back to you as soon as possible.”
Sick of hearing that generic, robotic message, I jamb my finger on the “end” icon and tuck the phone back in my pocket. Staring out the window, I watch the city lights zip past, counting down the minutes until we arrive.
When we finally do, I toss a chunk of cash at the driver, throw my bag over my shoulder, and leap out. When I burst through the lobby door, Manny, the security officer I hired to watch over Vista, pops up from his reclined position.
Startled, he shouts after me. “Hey! You have to check in first!” I jerk my head to the side so he can see my face, but I don’t stop for a second.
“It’s okay, Manny. It’s me, Levi!”
“Oh, hey, Mr. Black!” he greets as I rip open the door to the stairwell. If he says anything else after that, I don’t hear it.
I take the stairs two at a time. The elevator probably would have been faster, but right now stopping for anything feels like a death sentence. I have to keep moving. Standing still for any length of time is an impossibility.
When I reach her floor, I barrel through the door and pound down the lengthy corridor until I reach hers. She’s probably asleep by now, but I’m prepared to wake up the whole damn building if I have to.
Banging my fist on the solid wood, I wait, huffing as I struggle to drag oxygen back into my lungs. She doesn’t answer right away, and I imagine all types of scenarios. Did she look through the peephole, see it was me, and decide to let me stand out here and rot? Is she hurt? Is she even here?
I check the number on the door. 236. Definitely the right apartment. I pound on it again, more demanding this time. Then I pick up faint movement on the other side.
When the door opens, I release a relieved breath. There she is, her hair a ratted mess on top of her head, dressed in nothing but a long black t-shirt that strains over her swollen belly. Goddamn, she’s even more beautiful than I remember.
“Levi, what the hell are you doing here?” she asks, her voice raspy from sleep.
Definitely woke her up. My gaze tracks over her once more, and then I get annoyed. “Do you always open the door to strangers in the middle of the night? What if I was some crazy axe murderer?”
She rolls her eyes in that huffy way of hers that drives me crazy and gets me hard all at once. “I have a peephole,” she informs me, pointing to it. “And for the record, even though I saw that it was you, I almost called the cops anyway. Why the hell are you pounding on my door this late at night? Are you trying to get me evicted?”
Pushing the door open, I invite myself inside since she’s clearly not going to. Setting my bag down on the coffee table, I turn to her and ask, “Did you catch the show tonight?”
After closing the door and securing the locks, Vista crosses the room, bypassing the couch and climbing back into bed. Not that it makes much of a difference. They’re practically the same room.
Still, after all this time apart, even that small amount of distance is too much. Kicking off my shoes, I crawl in beside her.
Her eyes pop open and she hisses, “What are you doing in my bed?”
“Talking to you. What does it look like?”
“Like you’re in my bed. Get out.”
“No. Now tell me, did you see the show or not?”
“Since I’m not a glutton for punishment and I have no clue what you’re talking about, obviously not.” She releases a huge yawn that makes me smile. Dammit she’s adorable. How did I stay away this long?
Digging out my phone, I type in my name and Jimmy’s and instantly get a hit. Just as I thought, someone’s already uploaded it to YouTube. Damn, I love technology sometimes.
Handing the phone off to her, I tell her, “Here, watch it,” figuring it’ll make more sense if she sees it than if I try to explain it.
Casting me a suspicious frown, she takes it and rolls onto her back, getting comfortable. Holding the phone in the air, over her face, she starts the feed.
While she lays there watching, my attention drifts lower to her abdomen. It’s fuller than it was last time I was here. Rounder. Without thinking, I reach out and rest my hand on it, earning a sharp look, but Vista doesn’t tell me to stop, so I don’t.