The Open Shot (The Hotshots Series Book 1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Yellow

Two months later...

I open my author's Instagram while I'm sitting in the kitchen. When I see how excited people are about my newest book's title reveal, I smile. To put it mildly, Benj quickly spread the word about it on my social media accounts after I submitted it to them yesterday.

"There's that pretty smile I love so much," Warrick drawls sweetly, walking into the kitchen and kissing my cheek. "Why are you so happy? Since I returned home, I haven't even shown you my wiener yet." Wiener, he meant his cock, ever since I got pregnant, I got hornier and they said that it's normal for a pregnant woman.

Home. Even though it's only a four-letter word, it makes my heart race. I can't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside over it, even though I know he doesn't mean it because this is our home.

Setting my phone down, I exhale slowly. "I published my next book's title and synopsis. And I suppose that the reactions I've had from my readers have simply overwhelmed me, in the best manner possible." My heart feels all tingly. "They never cease to amaze me."

"Please, baby, do tell me this title." He takes the seat next to mine. "Since I'm, you know, I've been waiting for it."

"Take a guess," I say, raising an eyebrow. "Hints. It's a single dad, basketball romance. Forced proximity. All the good stuff."

He taps his finger along the stubble of his chin thoughtfully. "Basketball Romance, Single dad?"

"Yeah"

"Hmmm... let's take some wild guess... hot basketball daddy?"

I shake my head, so he rattles off another. "Shoot it daddy"

"Hell no." I snort.

"All right," he sighs. "I give up. Tell me the name of your newest book."

I feel shy all of a sudden. The story isn't entirely ours, of course. Other aspects have been altered, including the names. However, a lot of this story, of which I'm really proud, was influenced by our own journey and the struggles we've faced to reach this point, where we sit in this kitchen with no secrets at all.

"When I Met You," my voice barely squeaks.

I feel the energy shift.

"And what made you choose that?" his deep voice whispers.

I force myself to speak honestly, swallowing. I've always been hesitant to discuss specifics about my work with people outside of the book industry. However, this goes beyond my work or characters alone.

This is about us.

"Because in the story, the female main character is so lost. And so sad. She's never felt good enough." My voice grows hoarser as my throat throbs with emotion working its way up. "She is going through the motions, but not actually living because she thinks life as she knows it is over." My eyes cloud with tears. "And it's true. Her life will never be the same. But then—not in one day, but over the course of time—it gets better. Because a man and his daughter so graciously allow her to be a part of their lives. And that mends her heart." I pause to swallow. "They make her whole again."

I'm full-on crying now, and when Warrick cups my cheeks and gives me that look—the one that makes my heart skip a dang beat—it only gets worse.

"You see, in the story, he doesn't look at her and see a control freak who is annoyingly organized and overly cautious. He sees her for ... her. And when she's with them, she has hope. When she's with them, she never feels like she should change." I croak the last few words out. "And for that, she can't thank him enough."