by Lane Hart
“Nine days ago.”
“That’s a start. I hope you never get sick again.”
“So…” Hailey says, apparently trying to change the topic to the enormous elephant lurking in the room.
“So,” I say, turning around to face her again. “I got those papers from your attorney,” I tell her through clenched teeth. Pulling the tri-folded papers from my back jean pocket, I toss them on the bed next to her.
“Oh, um, thanks,” she says, picking them up and opening them. “Fuck that?” she reads from the signature line of the petition to void our marriage as if it never happened.
“Fuck that,” I repeat. “I’m not signing that shit.”
“You don’t have to,” she says when she looks up and scowls at me. “I can ask a judge for the annulment without your presence or consent. My attorney said it just makes it easier if you also give a statement that we weren’t of sound mind.”
“You want me to lie and say that we weren’t of sound mind at the time of the marriage? That’s bullshit and you know it!” I yell.
“It’s not bullshit!” she puts her laptop down and comes off the bed to yell back in my face, poking me in the chest with her index finger. “I had to be out of my fuckin’ mind to think that you could go a lifetime without touchin’ another woman when you couldn’t even go a day! One day, May-Son!”
“I swear to God, Hailey, that was an act and nothing more. It’s what the IFC said I needed to do for a contract. That I could be married to you as long as I kept up the image in public. I wanted to tell you. I tried to find you, to tell you before the fight, but there was no time!”
“Whatever,” she says with her hands on her hips “You wanted the contract more than me, I get that. I even tried to make you see that before-”
“I don’t want a contract more than you,” I correct. When I see a flash of what looks like metal, I reach for her left hand. Seeing the silver wedding band she’s still wearing, just like I am, I bring it to my lips and kiss it. It’s all the sign I need to know that she hasn’t given up on us. If she had, she wouldn’t be wearing it. I intertwine our fingers, making sure she sees my ring that I only take off when I have to for training. “I wanted you and the contract because it was important for me to actually be able to take care of you. So that we could afford to have a house and kids and all the other things I want us to have someday. If I’m not fighting, then I don’t know how else to do that! Tell me another way, and that’s what I’ll do, whatever it takes to be with you!”
“You love to fight,” she points out.
“Yes, but I love you more,” I quickly respond. “So what will it take to be with you, Hailey? Tell me.”
“I don’t want any other woman’s hands on you,” she says softly. “In the cage or-or strippin’.”
“Okay, you won’t ever see another woman touch me,” I assure her.
“But I want you to promise me that you’ll keep fightin’. That you won’t give it up for me.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I tell her honestly. “I’ve got to make a living somehow, and if the IFC insists on more setups like the other night, then I’ll walk away before I do that to you again.” She nods like we’ve reached an agreement on that subject. Thank fuck. “What about you? Are you gonna keep modeling?”
“Probably not. I think I’m ready to do somethin’ else,” she says, which makes me sigh in relief. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got a business idea I want to look into.”
“A business idea?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” she says with a small smile.
“Well, let’s hear it,” I say with my own grin since she said we’ll figure it out.
“So, I actually have a degree in marketing from Carolina.”
“You do?” I ask in awe as she retakes her seat on the bed. She doesn’t ask if I want to sit, but I plop down right next to her anyway. We’re so close I could move my thigh just an inch and it would be touching hers, but I don’t. I know we need to take things slow before we can try to get back to where we were.
“Yeah, after I finished school, I moved to New York. You were probably still in superhero undies when I graduated,” she says, making me chuckle. “But anyway, I studied marketing and I want to talk to Linc, Jude, and Don Briggs about makin’ Havoc a brand.”
“Okay,” I reply. “A brand?”
“Right. When we were all at the beach I thought, wow, there are a whole lot of hot guys runnin’ around, guys who train hard and are in really great shape.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter, not real happy about hearing she was looking at other guys.
“Well, there are plenty of women who would pay to see such awesomeness, and my roommate, Elle, is actually a photographer.”
“You want to sell photos of fighters to horny women?” I ask. “That’s brilliant.”
“I know it sounds sort of nuts, but I think there are a ton of things we could market like calendars, shirts, bags, gloves, and workout plans. I mean, it would be more than just posters of hot guys. It would be great publicity for the gym, and bring in more business so Jude and Linc can do more of the free community programs they want to do.”
I can’t help it. I can’t resist anymore. I lunge forward and cup the side of her face to kiss her. She’s not just beautiful, but she’s smart and caring, and I love her so fucking much. Bracing myself, I savor every second, knowing she’s probably gonna push me away. And she does. She pushes against my chest, but then I realize…she’s pushing me down to the mattress and climbing on top of me.
“God, I’ve missed you,” I say against her lips, wrapping my arms around her.
“Stay with me tonight,” she says and my chubby buddy gets right with the program.
“Hell, yes,” I tell her. “They won’t kick me out?” I ask as an afterthought.
“Fuck that,” Hailey responds, making me chuckle as she works on undoing my belt buckle. “Husbands get special overnight privileges.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re married,” I tell her with a smile before I flip our positions, putting her on her back. “I love you so damn much, Hailey.”
Her face softens when moisture fills her beautiful blue eyes. “I love you, too. Now show me how much.”
“I plan on it,” I tell her with a kiss. “But it might take the rest of our lives.”
Epilogue
Mace
Ten years later…
“Beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…beep…”
I pull out the phone in my pocket when I leave the locker room, already knowing what the alarm says before I read it. “Airport – don’t be late.” It’s nine-thirty, so I need to hit the road in case traffic is bad.
“Miriah,” I whisper yell when I stick my head into the room full of seven to ten-year-olds. As soon as she sees me, she comes running over in her white gi with the yellow belt tied around her waist.
“Hey, Daddy! Did you see how high my roundhouse was?”
“Yes, and it was awesome,” I squat down to tell her with a hug. “I need to run out for a little while, so do you mind staying with Uncle Linc and your cousins for a few more hours?”
“Eden asked if Lacy and I could have a sleepover with her tonight,” my daughter says with big, pleading blue eyes. I barely refrain from jumping for joy at the thought of an entire night alone with my wife. We love our daughter more than anything else in the world, but we’re long overdue for a date night, also known as a nice but quick dinner before we put on a little Color Me Badd or LL Cool J and get it on like Donkey Kong.
“I’ll check with Senn, and if he says it’s okay, then you can go home with them, and your mom or I will pick you up in the morning,” I tell her with a yank on one of her blonde braids. Since Senn and Jude also have girls, the three of us rotate having sleepovers at our houses to give each other the occasional free weekend. As of right now, Linc and Claire are the only ones with boys, Sage and Talon, twins named after minor characters from the Legend of Zelda.
My sister and her husband are such dorks.
“Thanks, Daddy,” my daughter says with another hug. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” I say when she runs back to her spot on the mat. Heading out, I throw up a hand at Linc who returns the gesture from where he’s teaching at the front of the room, and then I go look for Senn. I find him barking out criticisms at the two young guys in the cage.
“Hey, man. You mind if Miriah stays over tonight with Eden?” I ask through the holes in the fence.
“Yeah, sure,” he says when he walks up to talk to me through the metal. “I’ve heard there’s to be some sort of jewelry making.”
“Sounds fun,” I reply. “You gonna make yourself some earrings? Maybe a nice bracelet?”
He laughs and flips me off before going back to his pupils, the next generation of champions. Linc and Senn have retired from the cage, but Jude and I still occasionally have fights, not that we need the money. Now, I do it for fun. At thirty, I still have a few more years left in the tank.
Walking past the row of championship banners, Linc’s, Jude’s, Senn’s and my own hanging proudly from the ceiling in one of the best, most lucrative gyms in the country, thanks in part to my marketing genius wife, I head to the parking lot. Sally winks at me before purring when I crank her. Even after all these years, she still runs like a champ. Occasionally, when she doesn’t turn over right away, I figure she’s still pissed about our short break-up ten years ago. Women have long memories like that. At least my brother-in-law found her and brought her back to me, his apology for thinking the worst of me and being absolutely wrong.
And, of course, the highway is a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam, when you’re already late. By the time I get parked about three miles away from the General Aviation Terminal, I have to run to make it on time. I apologize to the fuckers who I bump into when they get in my way.
I make it to the coffee shop with three minutes to spare. And there she is, my gorgeous, and I mean gor-geous wife, wearing her long blonde hair in a ponytail. It’s pretty much her go to style since she throws up regularly nowadays. Her phone is up to her ear while she leans a sexy hip against the condiment counter. A second later, mine is ringing in my pocket. The ringtone is no longer “Magic Stick” but the old school hit, “Now That We Found Love” by Heavy D & The Boyz.
Reaching for my phone while I dance to the beat, I admire Hailey’s navy blue, spaghetti strap dress that pushes up her huge tits. The fabric once flowed loosely to mid-thigh, but now it’s skin tight over her bump and even sexier, still showing off her long, lean legs. With even the slightest of breezes she would be flashing her panties, if she was wearing any, which I know for a fact she’s not.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I say, finally answering my phone.
“You’re gonna be late,” she teases with a stunning smile.
“I’m right on time,” I tell her, and her eyes start searching for me in the crowd. “How are you feeling? My boy behaving?”
Her hand rubs lovingly over her bump. “Yeah, I’ve felt good today, and haven’t been sick at all. We should celebrate.”
“We should,” I agree. “Miriah is staying with Eden tonight, so you know what that means?”
“The house will be quiet and feel empty?” she asks.
“Well, yeah, but you won’t be empty,” I promise her. “And you can be as loud as you want.”
“Oh, is that right?” she asks.
“We could even do something completely crazy, like get out of town for the night. I know this really great little B&B next to a diner that has the best peanut butter cake…”
“Now that sounds like a great idea.”
“Damn right,” I tell her.
She laughs, and is still smiling when her eyes finally land on me where I’m half-hidden behind a column.
Right on time, I notice proudly when I end our call to go to her. Eleven-eleven on June sixth is the exact moment I fell in love with that smile ten years ago. And the young, stupid me from that day was right. I'll not only keep my promise to love her for better or for worse, through sickness and health, for richer or poorer, but I'm also certain that I would still do anything on God’s green Earth just to see her smile.
The End
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She continues to live in the south with her husband, two daughters, and several pets named after Star Wars characters.
When Lane's not writing or reading sexy novels, she can be found in the summer on the beaches of the east coast, and in the fall watching football, cheering on the Carolina Panthers.
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Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com