by Claire Adams
“You know if that happened I’d be your biggest cheerleader.”
“Would you wear the little shorts?” she asked, grinning. I laughed.
“A skirt would be better, don’t you think? Easier access.” She laughed, and I kissed her. We cleared off the field and met up again after the press conference. We had come in separate cars since I had had to be at the stadium before her.
A few of the guys were going out to celebrate, but we had plans already. The team’s owner, Peter Goldman and his wife had asked to have dinner with us that night. He had chosen a place where a lot of players went often, so of course, dinner was half actually eating and half talking to fans and signing autographs.
We got back to the apartment, finally, at almost midnight. I had been on a high earlier, just after the game, but now, I was just glad to be home. Ron had walked in before me and was already bee-lining it for the bedroom. I followed her. She was in the bathroom when I fell face first into the bed. I rolled onto my back hearing her come out. She had tied her hair up and from what I could see through her clothes, taken her bra off. She crawled onto the bed and lay on her back next to me.
"You okay?" I asked her.
"I should be asking you that," she said, rolling onto her side, leaning her head on her arm so she could look at me. "How's the hip?" she asked.
I shrugged. I had strained my right hip a little a week or so ago and had been getting it looked at, and though it wasn't really getting worse, it wasn't really improving that much, either. I could walk, run, play on it, but anything that hurt and kept hurting was bad news.
"I asked for this. It's my job."
"You always say that."
"It's true."
You did good today. How did that feel?"
"I think I deserve something nice for it."
"Something nice? Like what?"
"How generous are you feeling tonight?" I asked. She sat up and straddled me. I held her hips and lined them up with mine, grinding up into her.
"Generous enough to offer whatever you want," she said, grinning. She leaned down and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her into my chest.
"I have everything I want," I said when she pulled away. She ran her finger down my chest.
"Really? Everything?"
"The list isn't that long. I have my job. I have you. We won our last three games."
"There's really nothing else?"
"Nothing I can think of right now. No. Right now? Everything's perfect."
"I'm glad that you're happy," she said, smiling.
And, I was happy. My hip was bothering me but so what? I was finally in the pros. I got here and I had Ron with me. I never had to choose. Once the season was out, we were road tripping to Houston. I had it all. I was fucking happy. Did this even get better? I didn't know, and it didn't even matter. This was where the hell I had been trying to get all my life. I had done it. Fingers crossed, I'd be able to say that for a long time.
Epilogue
Veronica
Two Years Later
"Ron... Ron, baby, wake up."
"Hm?" I said, disoriented. I heard Roman laugh. I squinted, trying to remember where we were. He was standing in the aisle with my hand luggage and his. I frowned as it came back to me. We were on a plane.
A man shuffled past Roman with his own luggage, and I realized we had landed. I was probably holding them up. His fault, I thought. He shouldn't have gotten us the comfort seats. I hurried to my feet.
"Okay?" he asked, kissing me.
"Let's go," I said, taking my bag from him. He let me walk out ahead of him. I exited the plane, looking around the familiar small airport. I made a few trips back a year, usually during the holidays so we could spend them with family, but this was different. It wasn't Thanksgiving or Christmas, not even Fourth of July.
We were celebrating, though. Roman and the Hurricanes had just won the Super Bowl, not their first, but his. That deserved a vacation.
We were staying for a week. Not that much time, so we had a packed schedule. After doing the obligatory rounds with family, we were going to rent a cabin in the Black Hills forest for a few days. Since neither of us had our places here anymore, we were staying at a hotel, which I wasn't going to lie, I was sort of looking forward to. I had done the bookings. All I needed was for there to be a tub. We had a ridiculous tub at our place back home. Jets, big enough to fit a whole family – it was great. It had also spoiled me rotten.
We grabbed our suitcases and went through to arrivals to get a ride. I had my phone out, ready to get a cab.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" Roman asked me.
"We're not walking, are we?"
"No need," he said, pointing. I followed his finger, smiling when I saw Tiffany.
"I didn't know you called her," I said.
"She volunteered," he said. "This way we wouldn't have an excuse not to go see her."
Tiff had graduated and started a master’s program since we had been gone. She still lived with their dad. He wasn't in a hurry to see her leave, and she could save up for her own place that way. He had started seeing someone in the past year, too, which had shocked everyone because of how long he had stayed single after his wife, Tiff and Roman’s mom, passed. I hadn't had a chance to meet her yet, but maybe this would be the trip that I did.
I hugged Tiff first. We talked almost every day. Texts, phone calls – we were long distance, but she had made a few trips down to Miami since we'd been apart. She hugged Roman and walked us to the car. I sat in the back and Roman in the passenger side. I was still sort of tired, oddly, despite being knocked out for most of the plane ride here.
I watched the city pass outside the window. Things never seemed to change that much every time we would come back, which I secretly liked. It was like it was making sure it didn't leave us behind, become completely different and leave us floundering trying to adjust.
Tiffany was asking Roman how the flight was. "Let's just say first class was a good call," he said, looking back at me and smirking.
"You got us those seats so I wouldn't fall asleep? It's a seven-hour flight, what did you want me to do?"
"She passed out as soon as we were in the air. And didn't wake up till we had landed," he told her. I rolled my eyes.
"Next time you come down, get one of those seats," I said to Tiffany.
"Are you guys going to pay for it?" she teased.
Roman had offered, many times when Tiffany had been making trips to Miami to cover the cost of her ticket. She would never take it. At least she would stay at our house, though. House, not apartment. We moved out right when Roman's lease on the apartment was up to a place on the water. It was this big, a little too big for us, place with a pool and a yard. If you rolled out of bed at night and fell out, you'd end up in the ocean, that was how close to the water we were.
"Of course," Roman said.
"Can I bring a guest?"
"Dad doesn't count as a guest," he told her.
"I wasn't talking about dad," she said. I sat up in my seat behind them.
"What? Who is it?"
"Do you remember Casey?" she asked, glancing at me through the rear-view. I did remember Casey. Last time we had talked, the two of them had been on three dates.
"What's going on with you and Casey?"
"Who's Casey?" Roman asked, barely following along.
"Her boyfriend," I teased. She smirked happily to herself. I had never met this guy, but we had talked about him. She had even shown me pictures of him. He was cute.
"You're lucky we have two spare bedrooms," Roman said. I laughed. I wanted to see that. Roman mad-dogging Casey across the dinner table then giving him the spare room downstairs and Tiffany the one upstairs.
"Oh please, Roman," she laughed. "I'm twenty-three, not thirteen."
"Not under my roof. I love you, Tiff. It's the guy I have a problem with."
"You haven't even met him yet," she protested. I sat in the back letting them bicker.<
br />
"Where are we going?" I asked after a few minutes.
"Hm?" she asked.
"Where are we going? This isn't the way to our hotel." Roman was silent in the passenger seat.
"No?" he said. I looked at the side of his face; it was all I could see from where I was sitting.
"No, Roman. It's not," I said, a little sarcastically.
"We have a detour to make first," said Tiffany. Detour? I was looking forward to getting to the hotel. I wanted to wash the seven hours of flight off of me and maybe follow that with a couple more hours napping. Not to mention food. I was starving.
"Where to?" I asked. She didn't say anything. I looked out the windows, mentally tracking where we were going. "Tiff?"
"You'll see when we get there," she said, looking at me through the rear-view mirror.
"Rome?" I tried.
"Hm?" he answered. The same innocent, noncommittal sound his sister had made. I sat back in the seat, mostly giving up. The list of places we could be going were limited, anyway. It wasn't like this would be a surprise when we got there unless something major like a new mall or something had gone up. I watched outside the windows as we took the familiar streets.
"What are we doing here?" I asked as Tiffany parked.
I hadn't been here in years, literally. During all the visits we had made back home, we had never come back to the park for a picnic. Back home, at our place in Miami, we had sort of carried the tradition on, taking a basket down to the beach sometimes when it wasn't that windy, but the last time we'd been to our spot was... It had been when we got back together. The weekend before I moved to Miami with Roman. Roman got out of the car and came round the back to open mine. He offered me a hand and helped me out.
"I thought we'd do something special this trip. We're celebrating."
"You didn't want to go to the hotel and drop our stuff off first?" I asked.
"Tiff's waiting for us. It can stay in the car."
"Waiting for us? She's not coming?" I asked as he pulled me to follow him.
"Come on," he said.
"Where?"
"Don't tell me you forgot this place already," he said. I hadn't, I was just confused. Why was Tiff waiting in the car for us? What was happening? Why were we here instead of the hotel?
"Are we having dinner?" I asked lamely.
"Why? Are you hungry?" he asked. We started into the trees that lined the clearing we used to visit.
"Roman," I whined.
"Come here, I want to show you something." He was walking ahead of me. I had to walk kind of fast to be able to keep up with him.
"Show me what? Roman-" I was about to complain some more, but cut myself off.
We were there, our spot, but I it looked different the last time we had been there. The grass was perfectly manicured, lush healthy green like it shouldn’t have been this early in the year. It wasn't dark yet, but dark enough to see the light from the strings of fairy lights strung across the trees.
"Roman, what's going on?" I asked. There was a sheet of white rose petals sprinkled over the grass. He pulled my hand gently and walked us right to the middle of the clearing.
"What do you think?"
"I think it's beautiful... Who did this?"
"All I asked was that they get the flowers right, but the lights are a nice touch," he said.
"You did this?"
"Tiffany made it happen, but yeah. I asked her to do it."
"For us?"
"For you. Do you remember the last time we came here?" he asked me.
"It was a long time ago," I mused.
"Do you remember what happened?" he asked, standing in front of me, taking both my hands in his. I blushed. I remembered. Clearly. Thinking back, I couldn't believe how often we had done it out here. Anyone could have seen us.
"I remember we got back together. Then that Monday I moved in with you."
"This is where it all started. I wanted to do this somewhere special."
"Do what?" I asked.
"I was holding off till after the Super Bowl to do this. I knew that I wanted that win and then we got it. I thought that would be it, but it wasn't. With the championship, and you, and our home, I thought I had everything I wanted. But I don't," he said. My stomach clenched listening to him. The last two years had been incredible.
After the summer that he got signed, we had had to get used to living together, me being this far away from home for the first time. It had been hard at times, but we were a team. We figured it out together. After what we had been through, we had learned the hard way that whatever happened, we wanted to do it together.
"What do you want?" I asked nervously. We had talked a lot about the future, but mostly, we were just taking it a day at a time. Roman's career was going great. I had graduated and after a year off, had started working on a second degree. We took trips together when he had the time off, and before his offseason training began this year, we were planning a trip to Puerto Rico. We were focused on what we had to be for now and I had always felt comfortable doing that. Till now.
"You, Veronica," he said.
"We're already together."
"Not the way I want," he said. He squeezed my hands, pausing before he sunk down on one knee. I swallowed, looking down at him. His hands left mine and went into one of his pockets. He pulled out a ring and looked at it in his hand, smiling.
"Do you know how long I've had this thing?" he said, looking up at me. I didn't know whether he wanted an answer, but words were failing me. My heart pounded. He kept going. "The only thing I still don't have is a wife and I think that needs to change," he said. He was smiling, but he was blurring in front of me because I was crying.
"You're the love of my life, Veronica Kanter. I could stand losing everything as long as I got to keep you. It happened twice, and I never want it to happen again. If you'll have me, I want to make you my wife," he said. Tears streamed down my face. He reached for my hand, squeezing it in his. "Ron. Will you marry me?"
"Yes," I whispered.
"What was that?" he asked. I laughed, wiping my eyes.
"Yes, Roman, yes. I will marry you." He smiled, sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly. I didn't know how he would know what size to get. It was a clear white diamond, oval shaped, set in a white gold band.
"Do you like it?" he asked, standing.
Did I like it? It was beautiful, but it could be two copper wires wound into a circle, and I'd still love it. It could be nothing at all, what mattered was what it meant. It meant forever. The two of us, no matter what. I leaned up, wrapping him in my arms. I wanted to give him what he wanted. There was nothing I wanted more. I took his hand, pulling him over to a tree and we did it, right there, engaged, with the sun setting and Tiffany waiting for us in the car.
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Priest
Priest
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
Chapter 1
jace
I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in my room at the church where I’d served as parish priest for the past two years. I stared at myself in my black cassock and thought about the days ahead.
It wasn’t moving to a new church that troubled me — it was moving forward with a crucial piece of my life no longer intact. I’ve been devout in my faith since I was a child. But as I gazed at my reflection…I was having doubts.
I looked at the man in the mirror and instead of seeing Father Jace, I saw the reflection of a frightened little boy. That little boy had been brought to wher
e he was through the love and devotion of a woman — and now she was gone and I was questioning everything about my life.
My grandmother used to say, “Be humble and respectful to everyone, whether you are sure they deserve it or not.” She taught me not to judge people too harshly and that if you worked hard and did good things, you would always prosper.
When Grandma talked about prospering, she wasn’t talking about money. She taught my brothers and me that prosperity was about your family and your friends. The people that you kept within your inner circle said more about you than anything, according to her, and I had come to believe that myself.
She also always said if you looked hard enough, no matter how far you stray, it was always possible to find a path back into God’s good graces. That one I used to believe without a doubt, but those doubts had started to work their way in.
I had strayed from my faith the moment they told me she was dead. I had spent most of my nights since railing against God, instead of praying to Him. My grandmother didn’t need my prayers for her soul. She was the purest soul that ever existed. The irony is if she were still here, she would be the first to tell me to hit my knees and pray hard for forgiveness.
I was holding out hope I’d be ready to do that soon, but for the time being, I’d have to fake it. That day, repentance was not on the agenda. I knew that when I had to stand there and helplessly watch them lower her into the ground, instead of rejoicing for her soul, I would be agonizing over the pain in mine.
I was angry, but I was not supposed to be. I was a priest, but damn it, I was also human. My grandmother was dead. She was the light that always beckoned me home, no matter how lost I’ve been. I was angry and sad and confused, and no amount of praying would give me the answers to my questions. How was I supposed to find my way any longer?
It was just after 12 o'clock. The old church bells rang out, and from my second story room, I could hear the flock of pigeons the bells sent into disarray as they cooed and flapped violently away from the bell tower of the old church.