by Kendall Ryan
I almost brought Ella tonight, but now I’m glad I listened to Tracey’s advice and left her with Alexei’s mom at home. I’m sure Irina is glued to the TV, watching the big game.
Alexei’s three sisters are on their feet cheering, yelling out curses and encouragements that may as well be in a different language. It’s obvious they grew up around the game, and they know all the terminology that I don’t. Or maybe some of it is in Russian, who the hell knows. Nothing would surprise me with this family.
The only thing I know is that our team is down by three points, and it’s the final seconds of the game. And not just any game, but the big championship game that will determine the national champs.
Yeah, my stomach is in knots, to say the least. I’m so nervous and excited and anxious for Alexei.
“Get your fucking head out of your ass, Lex!” Tracey yells.
I’m sure he can’t hear her from our spot inside the suite, but I shake my head at her. “What’s going to happen now?” I don’t know all the rules of the game as well as I should—clearly.
Tracey rolls her eyes. “Either he stops them from advancing on this next play, or they hand over their balls to the other team.”
I nod. “Got it.”
So it all comes down to this. The crowd around us quiets, and the entire stadium is glued to this moment.
I take a deep breath, holding it in my lungs, and say a silent prayer. Come on, Alexei. You can do this. I know it.
I watch with wide eyes as his team gathers into formation. When they break, Alexei’s friend Weston Chase heaves the ball, his thick arm stretching as the ball releases, hurtling through the air in a perfect spiral.
My gaze returns to Alexei’s hulking form. He’s right in the middle of the pack, fighting off guys who are trying to advance toward the end line. It’s so incredible to watch him—his sheer size and strength—and seeing this version of him shoving at men even bigger than he is, so different from the soft and gentle guy I get at home. I smile, enjoying watching my man at work.
The crowd around me erupts into cheers, and the sound is deafening. Alexei’s sisters jump up and down, screaming, and it takes me a minute to understand what’s happening.
Oh my God. We won.
“We won!” I scream.
Tracey laughs. “We fucking did it!”
“Booyah, yes!” Valerie cheers.
The team gathers around the coach, and then Alexei charges toward the sideline. On instinct, I rush out of the suite and toward the field. Alexei tugs off his helmet and shares a hug with Weston. They’re shouting something to each other, and Weston is jumping up and down.
When Alexei sees me, his face breaks into a huge grin. He’s sweaty and dirty, but I’ve never seen him happier.
“Baby! Get over here.”
I rush into his arms, and we laugh and cry as we hug each other and kiss.
“You did it,” I say, nearly having to shout. It’s so loud in here.
“We did. I love you, baby.”
“I love you too.”
Alexei releases me and looks deeply into my eyes, cupping my face in his hands. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he drops to one knee in front of me. He takes my hands and nods to someone behind me.
Wait. What’s happening?
Before I can process or question what’s going on, Alexei looks up into my eyes and gives my hands a tender squeeze.
“I love you, baby. You and Ella. I want you to be mine. I want us to be a family. Forever. Will you marry me?”
Tears gather in my eyes. With all the commotion around us, his words barely register. People are still hugging and cheering and it’s pure chaos, but the best kind of chaos. I realize a cameraman has stopped to film us—Alexei in his uniform and my stunned face are being plastered on every giant screen around the dome. And that’s when it hits me.
“Oh my God, you’re proposing?” I bring a trembling hand to my lips.
He smirks. “That was kind of the plan. Win the game. Get the girl. Live happily ever after.”
Tears stream freely down my cheeks as I stare at him.
People are watching us. People in the stands, on the sidelines, Alexei’s teammates, his sisters . . .
Still on one knee, he gives a nod to his oldest sister, Ana, who walks over and hands him something small. It takes me a minute to realize it’s a ring, a beautiful diamond ring, and I’ve never seen a ring this pretty in my entire life. Alexei holds it up and meets my eyes.
I’m not sure if I expected him to pull the ring out of his tight uniform pants, but I’m sure those don’t even have pockets. And dear God, you don’t bring a ring like this onto a football field. It’s massive. At least three carats, and so sparkly and gorgeous. My heart is beating way too fast, and I suck in a big gulp of air.
“What do you say, baby? Will you marry me?”
The loving look in his eyes as he watches me makes my knees weak. “Yes!” I shout, and he breaks into a huge grin.
Alexei slides the ring onto my shaking finger, and I try desperately to wipe away the tears with my free hand.
“This is too much,” I say, admiring the way the bright lights catch the ring and make it shimmer.
He presses a kiss to my knuckles and then rises to his feet. “I wanted you to have the best.”
“Bossy,” I say, bringing my mouth to his.
The entire stadium erupts into cheers, almost even louder than when the team scored the winning touchdown. My heart feels so full and happy, it could burst. Alexei sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me—really kisses me, devouring my mouth like no one is watching—and I melt into him. The cheers grow even louder, and we finally break apart, laughing.
“You need a shower,” I say, patting his butt.
“Come with me.” His eyes are mischievous and bright.
I chuckle. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine. Wait for me?” he asks.
“Always.”
He presses one last quick kiss to my lips before hugging each of his sisters. I watch him walk away toward the locker room with some of his teammates, who are patting him on the back and congratulating him. I can’t help but think about his mother, who likely just watched the entire proposal on TV.
His sisters pull me into a group hug, and Valerie, the youngest, is crying she’s so happy. It’s beyond sweet. I haven’t felt part of a family in so long that tears spring to my own eyes again.
I can’t even imagine what my life would be like right now if Alexei hadn’t stopped that night on the street—if he hadn’t intervened with that guy outside the club. I shudder when I picture it.
“Alexei! Wait!” I call, jogging over to where he stands at the edge of the field before he heads to the locker room.
He turns and sees the emotion written all over my face. I run straight into his arms and plaster my face against his neck. He lifts me and I wrap my legs around him, clinging to his muscular frame like he’s my safety, my security, because he really is.
“Thank you. I love you so much.”
He pulls back and cups my face with one hand. “I love you too. You and Ella. You’re mine now, okay?”
“Da.” I nod.
He breaks into deep laughter, chuckling at my use of Russian. “You’re the best. See you in a minute, okay? I promise I won’t smell so bad when I come back out.”
“You know I don’t mind your smell, but yes, I’ll be waiting with your sisters.”
“They’re your sisters now too.”
A fresh wave of emotion hits, and my throat feels tight. “See you in a minute.”
I rejoin his sisters—my sisters—in the suite, where they promptly all lose their minds over how stunning my ring is. I have never felt happier or more loved in my entire life, and I never want this feeling to end.
Epilogue
Alexei
Five years later . . .
“I don’t think I can do this,” Ryleigh whispers from the passenger side of the car, her
hand resting on the round bump of her belly.
My stomach drops, and I reach over and place my hand on her knee. I hate the thought that she’s scared. “The glucose test? It’ll be fine. It’s just a quick blood draw. I’ll hold your hand and distract you. Anything you need.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. “I’m not talking about the glucose test today.”
She’s six months pregnant with our second daughter, our first biological child, if you want to get technical about it. Either way, I’m over the fucking moon. We’re headed to the doctor’s office after we drop Ella off at her first day of kindergarten. So, yeah, it’s a big day all around.
Ryleigh’s gaze darts to the back seat where Ella sits, humming quietly to herself. “I mean . . . did we really consider homeschooling, because it’s not too late, you know?”
I swallow a chuckle and stare straight ahead as the parking attendant at the private school we’ve selected for Ella motions us forward into the drop-off line. “Baby, this is one of the best schools in the entire country. Ella is going to love it.”
Ella’s been talking about her first day of kindergarten for months. She’s ready—even if Ryleigh’s not.
Ryleigh completed her master’s degree in teaching last year, and she would have been teaching here this year if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. She decided to take one more year at home, knowing it was Ella’s last year at home too. But they held her position and she’ll begin teaching first grade next year when the baby is about eight months old. Though to be honest, I really wonder how long that will last. My mother is determined that she’ll be the one watching the baby, but I have my doubts that Ryleigh will really want to leave the baby and go back to work.
I’ll support whatever she wants to do, of course. God knows with my salary, she certainly doesn’t have to work. The Hawks renewed my contract for another three years—another $30 million. After that, I plan to retire. Retired by thirty-six sounds about right to me. Then I can enjoy all of my girls more. No more early morning practices or away games. I’m already looking forward to it, although Ryleigh swears I’ll miss it. I may miss the game, but I won’t miss being away from them on such a grueling schedule.
More time with the ones I love is not something I take for granted. Especially after watching Andi struggle and die so young. To be fair though, Andi exceeded all expectations, living until Ella was nine months old, crawling around, babbling, and saying Dada. She loved her daughter, and loved how happy the baby made Ryleigh and me. I know she’s in a better place, and Ryleigh and I made peace a long time ago with her passing. Plus, we got the best gift in the entire world—Ella. Which brings us to this moment.
“I don’t know, Alexei.” Ryleigh chews on her lower lip, eyeing the sturdy brick building.
“Mommy, is that my school?” Ella asks from the back seat, her voice chipper. Thankfully, she’s completely oblivious to Ryleigh’s near breakdown.
“That’s your school, my love. What do you think?” I ask as Ryleigh wipes at her teary eyes with a tissue.
“Yay!” Ella cheers.
I chuckle, and even Ryleigh lets out a small, sad laugh.
Pregnancy suits her. She’s still petite and beautiful as ever, but with full breasts and a round tummy that even strangers can’t seem to help but reach out and touch. Of course, she’s more emotional than she’s ever been, which I’m still learning how to navigate.
“You okay?” I press my hand to her knee once again and give it a squeeze.
She gives me a brave nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I guess I have to be.” Leaning around the passenger seat, she looks back at Ella, reaching out to smooth her hair where it’s been so neatly braided. “Why did you have to grow up so fast, love?”
Ella giggles. “Because, Mommy! I’m a big girl.”
“I know you are. I’m so proud of you. Go have an amazing first day of kindergarten. We’ll pick you up at the end of the day.”
“Daddy too?”
Ryleigh nods. “Daddy too.”
“Listen to your teacher, okay?” I say, giving Ella our secret double wink. She repeats it back to me, rapidly blinking both eyes.
“I will, Daddy!”
Hearing her sweet voice call me daddy never gets old. I chuckle as she unbuckles her own seat belt and climbs out of the car with her brightly colored unicorn lunch box.
She looks so small following the teacher up the sidewalk and into the building. Fucking hell. Tears fill my eyes as I watch her walk away and a lump the size of Illinois lodges in my throat.
“See. Told ya this sucks,” Ryleigh says, wiping away the fresh tears that are falling from her eyes when she notices my watery eyes.
“Fucking sucks. Big time,” I say, putting the car into drive and pulling away reluctantly. “What time is school over?”
“Two o’clock.”
This is going to be the longest six hours of my life.
• • •
“Have you guys decided on a name yet?” my agent, Slate, asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the ice bucket on the counter.
It’s several nights later, and Ryleigh and I are hosting a small dinner party at our new-ish apartment in an exclusive gated neighborhood downtown. We decided we needed a little more space before the baby came. My old bachelor pad was fine for Ryleigh, Ella, and me, but that had ran its course.
Two months ago, we moved into this place, which is a few miles closer to Ella’s new school. We have a beautiful terrace overlooking the city and four thousand square feet, which is plenty big enough for all the baby dolls and Legos that currently decorate our space.
Tonight, we’re hosting a small dinner party for our close friends. Slate is here with this wife, Keaton, and their six-month-old son, Beckham. So are Weston and Jane and their twins—aka their hellions, who totally fucking take after Weston. Which sucks. For Jane. They just turned three, and yeah, I’m surprised they haven’t started a fire or killed each other by now. After being around them, I wouldn’t wish twins on my worst enemy. Beau and Bennett are fair-haired like Jane but built like Weston—bulky and too tall for their age, and extremely physical.
The only people missing from the party are our good friends Cam and Natalie. They are in Hawaii for a destination wedding for their friends Jack and Meredith, but it’s probably just as well. They are our only friends without kids, and being around all this chaos might deter them from procreating. But ever since they got married last year, all they’ve talked about is babies, so I know it’s not far off for them.
Realizing that Slate is still waiting for my reply, I shake my head. “We’re still figuring that out. We have a list.”
Slate chuckles. “Oh, I remember the list.”
Keaton elbows him. “You loved my list.”
Slate gives her a crooked grin. “You mean your spreadsheet with the color-coded tabs.”
Keaton, his wife and more analytical half, chuckles. “Yes. That. It was genius.”
“That it was,” Slate says.
“Our list is a little less sophisticated. It’s on an old takeout napkin taped to the side of the fridge.”
Ryleigh’s eyes meet mine, and her hand rests on her stomach. “We’ll figure it out. We have time.”
Jane nods and leads Ryleigh into the living room toward the couch. “You have plenty of time. We didn’t name the twins until they were three days old.”
After I check on the meal, I join the gang in the living room and settle on the couch beside Ryleigh.
Ella, the only little girl amongst the little kids, clearly rules the roost. They’re playing babies. Beau and Bennett each hold a naked baby doll in their lap as Ella gives them instructions on how to diaper them. I grin as I watch. Beside me, Weston frowns.
“Might need to get them some baby dolls,” I say.
Weston shrugs. “Jane already has. Something about gender-neutral toys.”
I nod. “Guess it makes sense. For her first birthday, I got Ella a football.”
“Didn’t Ella have her first day of kindergarten this week?” Jane asks. “How did that go?”
“Ugh. Awful.” Ryleigh shakes her head. “A piece of advice . . . don’t let them grow up.”
“Are you sure?” Slate asks. “Because I’d kind of like to go back to sleeping through the night. That’d be fucking awesome.”
Keaton elbows him again. “I told you not to get up every time he needs his pacifier. We need to sleep-train him.” She ruffles the fuzzy brown curls on her baby son’s head as he sits perched on her knee, watching the older children play.
“Ella loves school, loves her teacher,” Ryleigh says. “But yeah, Alexei and I were both in tears when we watched her walk inside.”
I scoff. “I was not in tears.” I just had a little something in my eye is all.
Weston chuckles. “The big bad linebacker crying at school drop-off. What a puss—I mean, what a baby.”
Jabbing him in the side with my elbow, I glare at him. “Just wait until your twins start school, fucker,” I whisper, low enough that Weston hears me but the innocent little ears don’t.
Jane perks up, sitting up straighter. “Well, I for one can’t wait for that day. The three hours a day the twins are at preschool is like heaven.”
Ryleigh chuckles and pats Jane’s hand. “You deserve a break, Mama.”
Isn’t that the damn truth? Those twins are crazy, but I don’t say as much. I just nod in agreement with Ryleigh. It is pretty incredible how captivated the boys are by Ella. They haven’t overturned a potted plant or started a fire in my microwave yet this visit. Turns out, if you nuke an iPhone, the fucker will explode into flames. Who knew?
The timer beeps in the kitchen, signaling that dinner is ready, and I rise to my feet. “Dinner in five, guys.”
After cleaning up the baby dolls and their accessories, Ryleigh makes a little assembly line, helping the children wash their hands before dinner.
I place two large casserole pans of lasagna in the center of the table, along with a huge salad and two overflowing bread baskets. Everyone takes their seats, with baby Beckham in Ella’s old high chair between Slate and Keaton. Ella and the twins are at a tiny version of our mahogany dining table that I had made for her. Ryleigh is by my side, and Weston and Jane sit across from us.