LEANING FORWARD AGAINST the back porch railing, I rest on my forearms while my hands dangle over the edge. In one hand, I have a plate with a half-eaten slice of coffee chess pie, and in the other, a fork. The air is cool tonight, and as the earthy smell of acres and acres of trees and grass fills my lungs, I’m flooded with memories of my childhood.
The best memories are the one-on-one football games James and I played out near the large oak tree until the sun set, the summer days the three of us spent sitting in the orange trees, racing each other to see who could eat the most, and then there are the fall nights I spent with Lexi, chasing fireflies and sleeping in the tree house where we shared our dreams.
I think about these memories often, and surprisingly the bad ones never surface; it’s always good ones that fill my mind. That’s how I know I’ve moved on and am finally in a better place mentally, a place in this world where just she and I exist.
Lexi and I have talked a lot about how things were for me growing up with Cole. She didn’t know how bad things were—I mean, how could she have? She was a kid too. I hate that the things he said and the stories I told her made her cry, but I don’t want to leave anything unsaid between us. I want her to know me, all of me, even the bad, and it’s through this I’ve learned something new. Lexi told me GiGi never really cared for him. It was because of me she said yes when he applied for the job. She told Lexi she loved me the moment she saw me.
She loved me.
Lexi loves me.
Those truths have fundamentally shifted me, because maybe I was one of them all along.
No one’s ever heard from Cole again, something I’ve often worried about since I signed with the Tarpons, but now, if I ever do, it’ll be okay. I have Lexi by my side and, well, my attorney is on speed dial.
It’s been three months since she and I drove out to her Oakwood home after that fateful day in February, and honestly it’s been three of the best months of my life. It took losing for me to finally realize there’s more to life than football and I can find happiness too. If we had won, I’m certain I wouldn’t have had this growth within myself, and after all these years, it was well past overdue. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take the win every single time and I still feel like shit because of the loss, but being here with her has put things in perspective.
Sure, I’ve had to head back to Tampa here and there for things, but mostly we stay here and the world leaves us alone—no requests for interviews, no speculations about next season, and mostly, there’s been no more talk of the Jarvie jinx. I’d like to think me standing up for us at the press conference made a difference, but my guess is that we’ve officially been together long enough that we are no longer interesting. We’re old news.
Meanwhile, Lexi’s business is thriving. A few other food magazines have reached out, she’s getting a spotlight in the All About the South Food Network issue this summer, and retailers have been inquiring like crazy asking to wholesale purchase stock for their stores.
I’m proud of her, so proud of her—even when she’s being feisty and still refusing to let me help pay for things. Yes, she gave in when it came to the barn, but she made me promise once business picked up, I’d back off on the next thing. I will, because I get her, and I love her even more because of it.
In front of me, the sky has shifted, its colors darkening. Although the sky is nice in Tampa, here it’s something else. It feels marvelous, endless, just like my love for her.
Behind me, the sliding glass door opens, and the warm air from inside rushes out and briefly blankets me. Lexi steps up next to me hugging Rafiki, our newest addition from the animal shelter in town. When we saw the tiny gray and white furball, we knew he was the one for us, and as for the name, it just seemed right.
“Oh, do you see them?” Lexi asks with wonder in her voice.
“Yep, I was waiting for them.”
The light from hundreds of fireflies flickers throughout the tall grass around our old oak tree. They’ve just recently returned in the last couple of days, and this was always my favorite part of spring. Through summer and into fall, they’re here every night like clockwork.
“How’s Meg doing?” I ask. They’ve been on the phone talking for the last hour.
“Oh, you know, she’s Meg. Everything looks like rainbows, glass is always half full, and she makes lemonade out of lemons.”
I chuckle, because as I’ve gotten to know her over the last couple of months, I’ve realized that description fits her to a T.
“How’s the pie?” she asks, suspiciously eyeing the half-eaten piece.
“Do you even need to ask?” I raise one eyebrow at her.
“Well, yeah—you only ate part of it.” Her face scrunches in confusion as she looks from the plate to me.
“That’s because you were preoccupied and this is now my third piece. Seriously, it’s a good thing I like to run a lot, because Coach would be pissed if I came back twenty pounds heavier.”
“Hey, don’t hate on the pie. It’s not the pie’s fault you can’t control yourself and have made it your new life’s mission to consume it all.” She smirks.
I turn a little so she’s standing in front of me. “If I don’t eat it, it goes to waste.”
“Waste, riiiiight. You do realize we can have leftovers?”
Leftovers, riiiiight.
What she doesn’t realize is, I eat the pie, one, because it’s good, and two, because I know how much she enjoys making them. Yes, it’s a backward way to show her love, but that’s what I’m doing. She makes the pies to give love, and I eat them to show love. It’s a win-win cycle for both of us—well, maybe except for the extra thousand calories and eighty grams of sugar daily, but who’s counting.
“You’re right, we can have leftovers, but they taste so good. You know I love your pies.” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes light up as she looks at me, and I can’t help but set down the plate and fork to wrap my arms around her. The kitten barely moves; he loves Lexi, but not as much as I do.
“Are you excited for the mini camps next week?” she asks as she snuggles closer, laying her head on my chest.
“I’m excited for the draft this Thursday. I know the front office has had their eye on a couple of wide receivers, and they’re negotiating hard to move up in the draft order.”
“That would be great,” she murmurs, humming a bit as I start rubbing my hands up and down her back. Her T-shirt is soft, thin, and I can feel each bump of her spine.
“Yeah, I’m ready—ready to get on the field with whoever it is and get to work.” We know this means less time together, but we’re both okay with it. I know we’ll make it.
“I’m going to miss Jack,” she says. I rest my chin on top of her head. She’s staring off toward the tree, and it’s hard to look away. I swear the flickering lights have multiplied fourfold.
“No one more than me.”
I’d like to say Jack is doing okay given the circumstances and all, but I’m not sure. Talking on the phone has never been my thing, but we do text each other frequently. Mostly, it’s sarcastic jabs back and forth, but occasionally he lets something slip. I do my best to read between the lines of his words, but that only gets me so far. It would be different if I saw him on a regular basis, but I don’t. As soon as he was up and slightly mobile, he packed up himself and Zeus and took off to do his rehabilitation somewhere else.
“I’m going to head in and get ready for bed,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Put this little guy to bed.” She lifts him next to her face and nuzzles him.
“Okay, I’m not far behind you.” I brush my lips across the top of her head.
She takes a step back, and I drop my arms. I look down at her as she pushes up on her toes and kisses me sweetly.
So sweet.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
My heart sighs with contentment as I watch her walk back into the house.
This house. Her house. Our house. My house.
/> It’s crazy to think that almost eleven years ago, I slipped out early one morning without saying goodbye and placed all my dreams not in fate’s hands, but my own. I had to believe that if I worked hard enough, long enough, one day I would be good enough, and here I am.
Do I regret how I left things between us for the last ten years? Sure. I always will, but we wouldn’t be who we are if things had been different, and I love who we’ve both become.
Now, as life has settled us into this next chapter, I no longer feel the need to run a hundred miles an hour to conquer the world. I want to stand here, next to her, until the cows come home.
Home.
With the true love of my life.
It’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, the best thing that will ever happen.
She’s my opposite in every way, but that makes life fun, and she definitely keeps me on my toes. Sure, sometimes she and I can be like oil and water, not mixing and separating quickly, but other times we’re completely compatible and we blend together perfectly. I appreciate how she makes me not take life so seriously, and in return I can ground her when things feel insane.
I chuckle as I think about the word insane. I’m certain people are going to call me insane for what comes next, but I don’t care. To the world it’s only been six months, but in reality, it’s been years.
I’ve never understood why, when people say they’re in love, they choose to wait to propose and then wait to get married. I mean, what are they waiting for? As a guy who spends most of his days with guys, just like women, when we know, we know, and I know there will never be anyone but her.
It’s always only been her, and I don’t want to wait.
Which is why tomorrow, on the swing under the old oak tree, I’m surprising her by proposing. I know she doesn’t see it coming, but I also know she feels exactly like I do, and I can’t wait to make it official. I want the world to know she’s it for me.
I also don’t want her to worry.
The last time I drove away for the start of a new season, I didn’t return, and as I head out next week, down the long driveway with my tail lights fading, I need her to know, to eternally know I’ll be back.
For her.
For forever.
Eating the last slice of every pie.
Coffee Chess Pie
PEOPLE ALWAYS SAY their wedding day is the best day of their lives, and they aren’t wrong, but somehow for me, it just feels like more.
So much more.
Six months ago, Bryan got down on one knee and asked me for forever. I’d already given it to him, but he wanted there to be no doubts, ever, and that was quite all right with me. Of course, I would have married him right there on the spot, but it was important to both of us that James be present. After all, he completes our little family of three.
His coaches weren’t thrilled when we discreetly announced the day, but they understood James’s leave time was short. So, they excused Bryan, Reid, and a few others during the middle of a random week in October to head to our house, where, surrounded by our closest friends, midmorning on a Wednesday, we said, “I do.”
To have loved just one person my whole life and then to have them love me back—I’m living in the perfect dream.
A warm, late-summer breeze blows over us as Bryan gently rocks us back and forth on the swing under the old oak tree. Of course our wedding had to take place here, beneath the canopy of swaying green leaves and the tree house that started it all.
My head is on his lap, my feet are hanging over the opposite end, and my eyes drift shut at the sensation of his fingers running through my hair. I know my dress is dragging across the dirty ground, and I just don’t care. Everything about today was perfect.
“Are you disappointed that it rained today?” Bryan asks. All of our guests have left, the small intimate party is over, and the sun has dropped enough that it’s hidden by the house, leaving us cool and in the shade.
“No. I love the rain—you know that. Besides, lots of people have sunny wedding photos, but we’ll have cool misty ones with us cuddling under an umbrella, and I’ll never forget the rainbow after it ended. It was so pretty.”
That’s right, I got a rainbow on my wedding day. I also got wet hair, but I didn’t care.
“It was really pretty . . . I just hated that everyone and everything got wet.” His fingers leave my hair and trail around my face, down to my collarbone.
“It didn’t rain for long, and don’t forget, rain on a wedding day means good luck. I think it says something about our future.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asks, swiping his finger back and forth above the edge of the sweetheart neckline on my strapless dress.
“That we’re going to succeed, no matter what.”
His fingers and the swing stop moving.
I open my eyes to find him staring down at me with the same expression as when I walked down the aisle: adoration. I walked myself down to the man of my dreams, not because I didn’t have options, but because I’m the only person who can give me away. No one else, just me.
That, and James was our officiant.
My brother, his best friend.
James gave us the ultimate gift as he guided us through the vows of our special day, filling it with charisma and love like only he can. He made us legal, made us a dream come true.
“Sometimes you say things and they take my breath away.” Bryan slowly blinks, briefly hiding those gorgeous blue eyes, and my heart blinks with him.
“Well, it’s true.” I reach for his hand and link our fingers together, aware of the presence of his wedding band where there was nothing there before. “Just think, next year could be your year, the year you finally win it all.”
His fingers squeeze around mine. “Don’t you get it? I already did win it all.”
Time stalls as we stare at each other, and he slowly pushes off the ground to continue rocking us back and forth. His hair has fallen across his forehead, the top button of his white dress shirt is unbuttoned under his black tie, and I take a mental picture of this moment. I know he loves me—he tells me all the time—but when he says things like this, it feels transcendent. I feel transcendent.
“I love you,” I quietly tell him, my voice just audible enough to be heard over the cicadas.
His lips tip up, revealing his dimple, and butterflies flutter through my stomach as he says, “I love you more.”
Best. Day. Ever.
“You’re just saying that so I’ll make you another coconut meringue pie,” I tease, and he throws his head back and laughs. The leaves on the branches above us flutter, as if the sound of his laughter pleases them.
“You wouldn’t have to make me another one if you hadn’t shoved half of it in my face in front of our friends.”
Yeah, I did do that, and I have no regrets.
“James bet me I wouldn’t do it,” I confess, wide-eyed but grinning.
“Yeah, well, he also bet me I would hit you with the football while you were in your wedding dress.”
“But you didn’t.”
All the guys here today did play one long game of football in the front yard, but the ball never came my way. As I watched them ditch their suit jackets, tuck in their ties, and roll up their sleeves, I chuckled at the thought that plenty of magazines would have had a field day photographing the scene.
“Exactly!” he declares.
“Well, you know I would have understood if you did,” I tell him animatedly.
“What kind of guy hits his wife with a football on their wedding day?” He cocks one eyebrow, and my breath catches.
“You said wife.” Unconsciously, my thumb rolls over his wedding band.
“I did. It sounds pretty good, too. Don’t you think?” He smiles again, and I just melt.
“Gah, fine. I’m definitely making you another pie now,” I tell him as I sit up.
He chuckles and slides me closer, draping one arm around my shoulders so he can bend down to kiss
me with warm, soft lips.
“You looked so beautiful today,” he tells me, running his lips across my cheek.
I pull back, just enough to be captivated by intoxicating blue eyes. “You already told me that.”
“I know, but I needed to tell you again.” He tilts his head and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“You didn’t look so bad yourself.” I slide my hand up his thigh to balance myself.
He leans closer, surrounding me with his unique scent of fresh and clean, and his breath hits my ear. “You know what would look even better?”
I shake my head, unable to speak as his other hand slips around my waist.
“These clothes on our bedroom floor.”
My undergarments practically disintegrate as my stomach drops in anticipation and I shiver in his arms. He knows just what to say and how to say it to make me fold right into his hands, although I wouldn’t call the folding defeat because we both know we’ll be winners in the end.
“Okay,” I whisper as he stands and takes my hand, bringing me up with him.
This right here, this glimpse of us, just him and me together, walking through our backyard—it shows me what a life with him will forever be like.
Yes, undoubtedly, we’ll butt heads here and there—I mean, just look at the differences in our personalities. Remember the Christmas tree?—but there’ll also be many playful times, acts of kindness, and consideration for others, too. With the bad comes the good, and he’s oh so good at giving me never-ending moments of affection and infinite amounts of love.
Love.
The most important of them all.
Regardless of where our careers take us, no matter what challenges or obstacles might get in our way, I know together we’ll be invincible.
Unbreakable.
Right here, with that knowledge, I know a life with him will always be as easy as pie.
Coconut Meringue Pie
The End
Be on the lookout for Jack’s story
Lessons in Lemonade
to be served up in 2020.
To my family, I always have to start with you first. My people, my loves, my whole world…These stories can’t be written without your love and support, and you make following this dream just so much more. Thank you for loving me just as I am.
Last Slice of Pie (Starving for Southern Book 2) Page 24