All Yours: A Second Chance Romance

by Ellie Bradshaw

  Aimee

  When Cam struggles down to one knee my heart nearly stops. I suppose to anyone else, this would look ridiculous. Me standing here in jeans and a University of Oklahoma sweatshirt. Jason Simons looking crotchety and curious in a wheelchair that seems to take up half the room and almost entirely blocks the entrance. A nurse, obviously come in to check on her patient, but now fascinated by the surreal tableau in front of her.

  And Cameron, on one knee in front of me, his face set in pain, his blue hospital johnny flapped open at the back. His hands are encased in what look like giant mittens and he’s holding this tiny box. A tiny box he bought a long time ago to give to me when I thought he could never be serious about anything.

  All this time, Cameron, I’ve been wrong about you. I thought he only cared about being rich. About looking snazzy. About taking expensive trips and never really trying hard at anything. But in the last five minutes he’s just gone and thrown that away, thrown it all away when it was offered with no strings attached, just because of a crazy desire to make it on his own. For us to make it on our own.

  “I never knew,” I whisper between my fingers.

  He smiles up at me. “You had a lot going on in your life, baby. I wasn’t there for you. Please, let me be there for you now. Forever. I’m all yours.”

  My tongue feels so thick in my mouth. The air in the room is so still I wonder if Jason and the nurse can hear my breathing.

  In the back of my mind I hear my father’s voice. Love is just a word if you’re not risking a lot for it.

  I can’t keep standing here with the most wonderful person in the world on his knees in front of me. So I sink to my knees, too, so there are only inches between us.

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, Cam. For always.” The box feels so tiny in my hand, the velvet almost warm. I open it, and I realize I can’t see the ring inside. I can’t see much of anything, because the world has gone all blurry. I look back up at Cameron, and he lowers his head and kisses me.

  It doesn’t matter if I can see, really. Sometimes all you have to do is feel.

  He breaks the kiss, and leans back just slightly, looking at me. And then he loses his balances and slumps away from the bed. I catch him before he falls over.

  He lets out a breath. “Jesus, I thought I was going to pass out before you answered.”

  I want to slap his shoulder, but I don’t because I don’t know what might hurt him. Then the nurse is there behind him, her hands in his armpits.

  “Okay, that was romantic and everything, but the show’s over now big boy. Let’s get you back up on the bed.”

  Cam smiles at me and allows the quite-strong nurse to wrestle him back up. “You’re wrong there, lady. This show’s only just getting started.”

  Epilogue: That Roommate Situation

  Cam

  I’m pretty sure Eric is going to cry. He’s standing there behind the kitchen counter in our—well, now his apartment—with a lost-puppy look on his face, studiously looking at the plate he’s already washed three times.

  “Dude,” I say to get his attention. He just keeps washing that damn plate, but I assume he’s listening. “It’s not like we won’t see each other. I’m your manager now. We’ll see each other every goddamn day. We’ll see each other so much you’re going to get sick of me and want to punch me in the face.” When Eric went pro three months ago, he realized his support team needed to upgrade a bit if he was going to fight in the big events. Since I have a big mouth and was otherwise non-gainfully employed, I guess I was an obvious choice as manager.

  A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “The thing is, I’ve always wanted to punch you. It’s my superpower in the ring. I just pretend the other guy is you.”

  I make a wry face at him and pick up my last box. My hands, still healing from the burns, grumble in protest. They are still a bit weak, still a bit painful, but the doctors (who my dad graciously pays for in spite of everything, a generosity that I accept with equal graciousness) assure me they will be back to full function within the year. The scars, pink and shiny, will always be there, though.

  Aimee sweeps into the front rooms of the apartment from the vicinity of my bedroom. Well, what was my bedroom up until this morning. And seeing her, as it always does, brings a smile to my face. Her auburn hair is tied up in a green bandana, and she holds a rag that is brown with dust. The piney smell of household cleaner wafts out with her.

  She puts the rag on the counter and walks behind Eric. She disappears behind his wide body until her arms appear and wrap around him. “You’re going to be fine, big boy,” she says into his back.

  He shrugs. “I just like to share rent with a rich person. It’s very secure.”

  The wedding is still three months away, but Aimee and I have decided that moving in together now is our best bet. After all, we are now in a position to need to save money, and paying rent on two apartments isn’t part of that equation. Plus, I’ve been spending basically all my time at Aimee’s apartment for the last six months, anyway, so the move makes sense. I would have stayed and fulfilled my lease, but Eric assured me he could find a replacement without too much trouble. Yes, that bruised my ego a bit. But gift horses and all that.

  She pats him on the shoulder, then comes back to stand beside me. Her hand eases out to take hold of my belt loop. “It seems as if you’ve got that roommate situation handled, though, right?”

  I’ve never, in all the years I’ve known him, seen Eric blush. But now his face goes a bit red, and the ghost of a smile that tugged his lips broadens into something closer to a grin. “Yeah. Maybe.” He frowns. “But she’s not rich.”

  “What?” I hear myself say. “What’s this?”

  Aimee smiles up at me. “Apparently you’re not that hard to replace.” She tugs on my waistband. “Something you should keep in mind.”

  “Replaced by who?” I feel slightly irritated. I’d thought Eric would at least wait some time before he moved someone into my room. Mourn a little while, maybe. This just seems…sudden.

  Aimee goes up on her tiptoes, her tongue flicking my earlobe. My breath catches in my throat and I am immediately regretful that we’ve moved the bed out of the apartment. Maybe I can convince Eric to leave the apartment for a few minutes and we could…

  “It’s ‘whom,’ baby,” she whispers in my ear. And just like that, my ardor boils down to a more manageable level. Nothing like a visit from the grammar police to put you off your game.

  “Just a…friend,” Eric says.

  “Who?” I repeat. This is killing me.

  “Whom!” Aimee says, pulling more firmly at my belt loop. “Let’s go before curiosity gives you a stroke.”

  I realize that I’ve just been standing here holding this box for five minutes and my arms are getting tired.

  “To be continued!” I yell as she pulls me out the door.

  Eric raises one massive paw in a wave.

  On our way down to my pickup—I traded the Mercedes in for a five-year-old Ford in the interest of pursuing financial responsibility—we pass a familiar face on the stairs, going up. She is carrying a box loaded with brushes and paints. She smiles at us, and Aimee plants a kiss on her cheek as they pass one another. “Need help?” she asks.

  “Nope.” Marie flashes a dazzling smile. “Got all the help I need waiting on me upstairs.”

  “Eight hands work faster than four,” Aimee suggests. I am somewhat irritated by the suggestion.

  Apparently, from the look on her face, so is Marie. Just a little. “I plan on being naked in about three minutes,” she says archly. “We have enough hands.”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I ask no one in particular. Precisely no one answers me. Marie turns quickly back to the stairs, her golden hair a halo.

  “Let’s go, baby,” Aimee says, leading the way down the stairs.

  I just stand in the stairwell a moment, watching Marie sway her way up in the direction of my old apartment.

  “What the
hell,” I mutter. Then, louder, I yell again, “To be continued!”

  Bonus Chapter

  Hey, Reader! You might have reached the end of the story, but the story’s not over! If you loved Theresa and Sean as much as I did, you don’t want to miss the chance to hang out with them for another chapter. So if you’re sitting there in your bed, or easy chair, or (better yet!) your bathtub, thinking, Dear God I want more of those two, then pray no more and just click right here to get your free bonus chapter!

  Also By Ellie Bradshaw

  Fearless:

  Even champions fear something.

  Sean

  The thing to understand about me is that I simply do not give a f***. Not about money. Not about rules. Not about expectations.

  Winning is all there is, and it’s all I do.

  Until Theresa Vaughan walks into my press conference with her swaying hips, her dazzling smile, and a single question that tears my world apart.

  The sexy reporter is due for a reminder that I rule here. She’s going to pay. And pay. And love every minute of it.

  Theresa

  God, I hate sports superstars. I hate looking at them. I hate talking to them. Arrogant, self-absorbed, sexist pricks.

  One thing I love about sports superstars? Asking the questions that bring them to their knees. Exposing them for the weak, flawed humans they really are.

  I will bring Sean Kelly to his knees and show the world that their King is really just a man.

  Everybody is afraid of Sean Kelly. Everybody but me.

  Click here to read Fearless

  The Next Thing:

  Ryan is a bare-knuckle fighter with a quick wit and a quicker temper. Miriam’s name isn’t really Miriam, but she can’t tell anybody because she’s on the run from the mob. Bad news for the bad guys; Ryan Calder isn’t ready to let his girl go, no matter what her name is. Even if she’s not really his girl.

  Click here to read The Next Thing