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I was lying on the couch, looking for something to watch on TV when the elevator dinged and opened.

"Demi?"

"In here!"

He walked in, sighing in exhaustion and dropping his car keys on the coffee table in front of me before climbing on top of me and lying down.

I let out a puff of air and a small grunt, all his weight on me. "I can't breathe," I mumbled, running my fingers through his hair.

He made a small sound of disapproval before looking at me. "Spread your legs," he demanded. I laughed and he rolled his eyes while I put my legs on either side of him so his lower half was on the couch and he moved down lower, resting his head on my stomach, turning it sideways to get a look at the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing yet, I'm still looking," I replied, continuously running my fingers through his hair. I felt him watching me and turned to face him.

He moved back up and I let out another breath, feeling his weight on me again.

I chuckled softly, "What?"

He leaned up, kissing me briefly. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before moving back down and putting his head back down on my stomach, closing his eyes. I stared at him, just observing him for a while. After a while, he turned to stare at me too. I read it in his eyes. He wasn't happy with the conversation he had with his mom earlier, the look of frustration and agitation on his face gave it away.

"What happened?" I questioned.

"My mother," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"What did she say to you?" I frowned.

"Nothing."

"Vince."

He held my gaze.

My eyebrows twitched up. "About me?"

He made another small grumble and closed his eyes, putting his head back down.

My brows furrowed. "Are you... upset?"

He looked at me in almost disbelief.

"Does it bother you?" I questioned.

"Doesn't it bother you? All she ever does is talk bad about you, as if she has any right to do that, as if she knows anything about you, about us. How can it not bother me? I don't care about her opinion but that doesn't mean I like hearing it. I hate hearing it. I hate hearing her talk badly about the girl I love."

I smiled softly, brushing a lash off his cheek using my thumb. "I didn't know it bothered you that much."

He lifted a brow. "Wouldn't it bother you if your parents said something bad about me?"

"My parents wouldn't say something bad about you, they're fans."

He sighed, "I appreciate that, but it doesn't make me feel any better about my sad excuse of a mother."

"Vince," I sang, "come on. Let it be."

He held my gaze.

"Let it be," I repeated, nodding softly.

He moved up to his knees, bending to give me one kiss before standing up, stretching.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked.

"You don't have plans."

"No, I'm going to the gym."

"Again?"

"I need to blow off some steam, I figured the gym would be better than here. I won't be long. Maybe an hour."

I hummed softly in understanding.

He paused, eyeing me. "Do you want to come?"

"To the gym? With you?"

"With who else?"

"I don't know... Working out isn't really my thing," I mumbled. I have these sprouts of fitness around two times a year. A sudden boost of fitness but I usually don't go beyond running or jogging. I was able to do that at my old apartment because there's a park nearby there. But here, it's just the gym.

"You don't have to work out if you don't want to. You can keep me company."

I watched him for a moment.

"You can think about it while I go change, yeah?"

"Yeah," I nodded softly while he went upstairs. I checked the time on my phone, my eyes going to the date.

It's November fifth. Which means Thanksgiving is coming up and then Christmas which means I get to go home. Every year since I moved to Boston, I go to see my parents for Christmas and come back only after New Year's. Once I got out of college and started working for Vince, I would go on the twentieth of December because by then, usually, his season was up. The season usually ends before then and since all the players are taking a break off-season, the assistants can too.

I only get to see my parents once a year and I miss them at other times, so I'm always looking forward to it. I think I will tell them about Vince when I visit them. My dad would pass out of shock and happiness and my mom would be happy for me too.

Vince came jogging down and stopped at the end of the couch, grabbing my legs and squeezing them once. "You coming?"

I nodded and stood up, pulling my slippers on. We headed to the gym, which was empty at this hour of the day. I took a seat on the floor with my back to the mirrors and watched him work out.

He did some heavyweights, ran on the treadmill, and then walked over to me, grabbed a mat, and rolled it out in front of me. He sat down for a minute, watching me. He was a little out of breath, sweating everywhere but he still looked attractive. Which is just unfair.

Thank god I didn't decide to work out with him. I would look like... a mole-rat.

He patted the end of the mat which was slightly lifted and rolled upward. "Can you sit and keep it down?"

I moved forward, sitting on the end of the mat and watching him with a small smile.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, lifting his brows.

"I'm thinking about Christmas plans."

"What about them?"

"Vince, when is the last game for this year?"

Usually, with their games, the season for the year ends before Christmas and resumes early February. From there, it goes up until April, and then it's completely off-season for the players until September when pre-season games begin again.

"They're dragging the games out a bit this season. The last game is on Christmas eve."

I blinked in surprise while he lay on his back and pulled his legs up, doing sit-ups.

"Why?" he asked, coming up.

"Your last game is on Christmas eve?"

"Yeah," he exhaled, coming up again and stopping, realization flickering across his eyes. "Oh... You won't be here."

I nodded slowly. "I won't." Which is weird because I've never missed an official game where he was playing. Ever. I did miss a few pre-season games during the six months I was fired but never a real game. And I hate that I'll be missing his final game if I choose to go. "Do you want me here?" I asked as he resumed working out.

"Only if you want to stay. I know how important it is for you to celebrate the holidays with your parents," he huffed, meeting my gaze every time he sat up. "I want you here, I won't lie. But I don't want to make you choose."

I frowned, "I kind of have to choose either way."

He was quiet, only his breathing audible. "Why don't you fly them over this year? Call them here."

I chuckled softly, "And keep them where?"

"At a hotel, no?"

I shook my head. "You know, the year I started working for you, they really wanted to come to see me. But they refused to stay at a hotel and said they would only stay with me. I didn't tell them that I lived in a studio apartment, I didn't want to either. They would feel bad and try to send me money, thinking it would help me out, but..." I shrugged softly. "It made me feel bad. I begged them to stay at a hotel but they were just saying what every parent does at some point. 'My daughter's working now, I'm going to stay with her, I'm proud of her' but there wasn't much to be proud of."

He stopped, sitting up and listening to me now.

"He was happy to hear that I was working for you though. He adores you as an athlete. But they were both dead set that if they were in Boston, they'd stay with me. They didn't want me to waste money on their hotel expenses. And they couldn't stay with me. I remember fighting with my dad and in the end, we just decided that I would fly over instead. It's... complicated.

"They don't want me to spend money on them, they feel bad about the debt as it is, but I feel bad letting them spend their own money too. And if I fly them out now," I sighed, "then where would they stay? They'd still say that they want to stay with me and I can't keep them at your penthouse."

He thought for a minute. "Have you told them about us?"

I shook my head. "I was planning on telling them when I went home later in December. But... I don't want to miss your game. Do you want me to stay?"

He inched forward. "I want you to do what you want."

Suddenly, I felt a little too bold. "Do you want to meet them?"

He blinked twice before smiling softly. "Sure."

I shrugged, "I don't know, let's see if I'll go or if I can fly them out here. If I go, will you come with me?"

He nodded. "And if you decide to call them out, I'll arrange for something, don't worry."

"Vince, I can't and I won't ask you to let them at the penthouse. It's strange. They'll come, expecting to stay with me, and then I'll drop this bomb on them. Oh, by the way, I live with Vince Hunter and he's my boyfriend."

"They probably know, you know. If they're watching the games."

I blinked in realization and gasped softly.

He chuckled, holding both my cheeks, shaking me lightly. "You didn't realize until now?"

I shook my head slowly. "But... They never asked me anything about us or you."

"Maybe they know. Or maybe they're happy with it, so they're not interfering or questioning," he replied, kissing me quickly. "Let's see. We have time, around two months, to decide. When you know, you let me know, okay?"

I nodded, kissing him softly.

He smiled against my lips and then went back to working out.

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