Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(108)

Which made me second-guess trying to talk to Birdie right now.

I’m pretty sure the last thing she wants is for the photo-hungry media to witness us together.

The instant she steps outside the hospital doors, the paparazzi hound her with questions, snapping photos in quick succession.

Birdie ignores them as best as she can, and before I can decide whether I should discreetly leave to protect her from even more media attention, her eyes meet mine.

My mind goes blank, and my only recurring thought is, This beautiful woman owns my fucking heart.

I’m not sure what I expect her to do, but when she walks straight toward me, closing the distance between us, I’m utterly shocked.

More cameras flash, and it’s more than obvious they’re aware of my presence when they start tossing out questions about our relationship.

“What are you still doing here?” she asks, and I choose to be completely honest with her.

“Waiting for you,” I answer.

She tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“Birdie, there are so many things I need to tell you. So many things I need you to hear. And I just couldn’t wait any longer,” I admit. “But I’ll understand if you want to have this conversation somewhere else.”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “You can tell me now.”

I’m tempted to remind her about the paparazzi just standing over there, watching us like hawks, but I know she didn’t miss them.

She’s really okay with this?

“Andrew,” she says, and my name sounds too damn good on her tongue. “You can tell me now. It’s okay.”

I look at her, then over at the bastards with cameras, then back at her, but when her expression stays utterly neutral, completely patient, I decide to just lay it all out there.

“I fucked up in Memphis,” I admit. “I shouldn’t have walked away. I should have stayed, and I should’ve made you understand how I really feel about you. But here’s the thing. I’m not the kind of guy who lets himself fall in love. I’m quite the opposite, actually. And you, well, you changed that for me. You turned my world upside down. And falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You are too beautiful, too sassy, too adorable, too much of everything, and I didn’t stand a fucking chance. I was completely powerless against it. Against you.”

Her lips part and her eyes go wide at my words, but I can’t stop myself from telling her more.

“Seeing you hold your niece in your arms and smiling down at her with your heart on your sleeve, I saw the life I wanted flash before my eyes,” I say, meaning every fucking word. “I used to think I loved fast cars and women, and nothing would ever change that. I used to think I didn’t need anyone. I used to think falling in love and marriage and babies and shit wasn’t in the cards for me…” I pause and step closer to her.

“But then I met you. And fuck, you changed the game. You changed everything.”

“Andrew, I—” she starts to respond, but I reach up with a gentle hand and place it over her lips.

“Wait, just let me finish. I need you to know everything that’s inside my head. That’s inside my heart, okay?”

She nods.

“I want that life, Birdie. I want you. All day, every fucking day. I want to fight with you and laugh with you and wake up next to you. I want it all. Marriage. Babies. Forever. With you. I’ll give up the fast cars. I’ll even drive a fucking minivan, if it means I get you.”

“Andrew.” Tears fill her eyes, and I reach out to grasp both of her hands in mine.

“Birdie, I’m in love with you.”





Birdie



He’s in love with me.

I have never in my life felt so free, so full, so fucking relieved.

Andrew Watson is in love with me.

And even though we have quite the paparazzi audience, I give zero fucks.

It feels like my whole world, my whole life, comes into absolute focus, and I just know. I know what I want. I know how I feel.

I know.

“I fucked up in Memphis too,” I whisper and make no move to remove my hands from his. I grip them tighter. “I was scared and let fear get in my way. But I was so wrong, and I handled it all poorly.”

He nods and searches my eyes, but he also waits patiently as I find the right words.

“I…” I pause and try to search through all the thoughts that are racing around inside my head. There is so much I need him to know and feel and hear, but hell’s bells, it’s like I don’t know where to begin. “I…uh… Are you free in about three weeks?”

“What?” he asks, utterly confused by my question.

I can’t blame him, though. On the surface, it doesn’t make a bit of sense.

But eventually, he’ll understand.

A smile consumes my mouth. “In about three weeks, can you clear your schedule for a month? No work. No filming. No nothing.”

“I…uh… I think so? Why?”

“Do you want to go on a trip with me?” I ask. “To Fiji?”

A shocked laugh leaves his lips. “I just told you I’m in love with you, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and you’re asking me if I want to go on a trip to Fiji?”