LONG SHOT: (A HOOPS Novel)

“If you were mine, Iris, there would be no doubt what position you’d hold in my life. You’d be center. I’d play you at the five.”

“August, I love you,” I say, twining my fingers in his hair.

“I know that.” He closes his eyes, surrendering to my hands. “I love you, too. More than anything. More than everything.”

He said he’d play me at the five, at the very center, and he’s lived up to that promise every day that we’ve been together.

“I trust you with my life, with my future.” Emotion scalds my throat, so I pause to steady my voice. “With my daughter.”

He slowly opens his eyes to watch me. “I know that, too.”

“And I want to wake up with you every morning.”

“Youuuuuuu . . . do?” He settles his hands at my hips, splayed across my bottom, and narrows his eyes on my face, assessing.

“Yeah, but . . .” I search for the right thing to say—to let him know I’m ready. “I want the pancakes. Okay? I want the pancakes, August.”

“Babe, I’ll make you pancakes. Any time you want.”

“You’re not hearing me. What I’m saying is . . .the kids! You know, bursting into our room every morning? Your kids, August. I want to have your children. Our children.”

He frowns and blinks at me like I might have been body-snatched and replaced by some amenable stranger.

“That makes me . . . happy.” He looks more uncertain than happy, though cautiously ecstatic might be accurate, too. “But what do you mean? Are you saying . . .”

He watches my face with the same focus his father probably watched that game clock counting down. I’ve had reservations and fears based on the past, based on my mistakes, and on bad calls I made. But August is no mistake. He’s not a bad call, and all that he wants, I’m ready to offer. All that he has, I’m ready to receive. One step forward will take me into the future, and I’m ready.

“What I’m saying is this, August.” I tip up on my toes and smile against his ear. “Take the shot.”

“Oh. Wow.” I glance at him cautiously. “And what’d you say?”

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “I told her that I love her more than any daddy loves a little girl,” he says slowly, not looking at me for a second before very purposely looking me right in the eyes. “And that I love you more than any daddy loves any other mommy.”

The pizza may not be hot, but his words steam my heart.

“And I said that we’re already a family.” He takes both my hands between his. “And that one day, when the time is right, I’ll be her daddy and I’ll be mommy’s husband.”

I don’t know what to say for a moment, so I leave it to the quiet to absorb his perfect response, and then I speak.

“That was . . . ahem . . . a good answer,” I say, studying our joined hands. “I’m not surprised she asked, considering all that’s happened. Well, and now that we’re at your place so much, it inevitably raises more questions.”

“Our place.”

“What?” I look up with a frown.

“You said it’s my place, but it’s our place.”

“Yeah.” I wave a hand. “You know what I mean.”

“But you don’t know what I mean.” He smiles, cupping his palms around my shoulders. “I’m adding your name to the title of the condo, and when we move into a house, your name will be on that, too.”

Surprise immobilizes me, freezes me in place. Only I’m not cold. Warmth suffuses every cell of my body until I’m on fire under his hands.

“You don’t have to do that just to prove a point, August,” I finally manage to say.

“It’s not to prove a point. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s team, and you and me”—he draws a line in the air between us—“we’re a team, doing everything together. And when we do marry, I want to adopt Sarai.” He holds up a staying hand. “I know it’ll take some getting used to, but she’s always felt like mine, and I love her. I want things as legal with her and me as they will be for the two of us.”

“Thanks for this, by the way.” I pop a pineapple in my mouth. “You remembered.”

He runs a wide palm over my back, his touch warm through my silk robe. “Lakers means pizza and root beer. I told you I remember everything about you.”

When I open my eyes, August is staring at me, and the look on his face brings tears to my eyes. To have someone look at me like that and to have someone feel the way he does—it’s the most humbling thing I’ve ever had. Every time he touches me, he restores my faith and reminds me what pure love feels like.

I love watching August and Sarai together. My daughter is one of those kids you think is adorably precocious when you first meet her. After about the fiftieth question and a few of her “sage” ponderings, most search frantically for an escape. Never August. He answers her fiftieth question with the same patient thoroughness that he did her first.

“Pizza for DuPree?” the pimple-faced teenager asks.

“Um, I didn’t order pizza.” Would have been good, though.

He peers up at the number over the door and back to the delicious-smelling box of pizza, and then squints at a little slip of paper.

“Pineapple and pepperoni pizza and root beer?” he asks. “That’s not you?”

August.

“Oh, yeah. That is me.”

Life is a constellation of decisions, connected by coincidences and deliberations, painting pictures in the heavens. During the day, when things are brightest, we don’t see the stars, but they are there. It’s only in the contrast of night, when things are darkest, that the stars shine.

Iris is my constellation. She took the darkness as her cue to shine. It only made her brighter, stronger, and tonight, her hard-won glimmer lights up the sky.

I ache all the time.

Sarai nods and says, “Daddy.”

“That’s right,” Caleb says, looking pleased. “I’m your daddy. How would you like it if you and Mommy could come live with me?”

My throat implodes, trapping a scream inside. I dig my nails painfully into my palms, but that’s good. The pain keeps me sharp and aware.

“I wanna live with Gus,” Sarai says, clear as day.

I close my eyes, my head dropping forward, because I think my daughter may have just sentenced me to die.