by A. S. Teague
I grab the mic from him, cutting him off mid-sentence. “First, I need to thank the fans. I’ve never been to Australia before, and this fight was just the icing on an already-amazing trip. We’ve been here two weeks already, and I’m thinking we may never go home!”
The crowd cheers, but I keep going, shouting over them.
“Listen, there’s someone I need to talk about for a second.” I turn and look at Rebecca. Pointing a finger at her, I tell the audience, “This woman right here is the reason, the only reason, you just saw that incredible fucking fight. She convinced me to start training again. She found my sponsors. She sent me to incredible gyms all over the country to train. She made this dream a reality.” I drop my arm that’s holding the microphone and nod at Tripp.
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a small, velvet box.
I hand the mic back to the announcer and then grab Rebecca’s left hand. When I drop to one knee, her eyes widen, and her free hand flies to her mouth. I rehearsed this moment in my head countless times over the last few weeks, but all the preparation in the world isn’t helping to ease the nerves I am feeling.
“Rebecca Toler.” I pause, swallowing hard. “I didn’t even know it then, but when I walked into your gym last year, I was fucking dead inside. You brought me back to life. You gave me a reason to want to fight again. You are the craziest person I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep up with you. But you’re my kind of fucking crazy. I want to spend the rest of my life being crazy with you. Rebecca, will you marry me?”
Tears stream down her face, and she wipes them, causing her makeup to smear. She doesn’t answer right away, and my stomach begins to turn, but finally, she nods. I pop the box open to reveal the pear-shaped engagement ring that belonged to Gram.
Standing, I slide the vintage ring on her finger, and she gasps. When she looks at me, her eyes sparkle.
“Ryker, it’s incredible,” she says, admiring it.
I nod and tell her, “It was Gram’s. She gave it to me the day after she met you. Said that, the moment she saw us together, she knew that the ring was meant to be yours.”
Her jaw drops, and she looks out at the crowd, her eyes finding my Gram’s. She holds her hand up and smiles, and I can see Gram dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and bend at the waist to scoop her into my arms. As I make my way out of the cage, I tell her, “Time to celebrate the best day of my fucking life. All because of you.”
Five years later
Tripp’s voice booms over the loudspeaker, and I pull my attention away from the squirming child in my lap. He’s standing on the stage behind a podium, microphone in one hand, his other gesturing at the table I’m seated at.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this year’s Mixed Martial Arts Hall of Fame induction ceremony. It is my honor to be the one to bestow this honor upon both of these men. I’m your host for the evening, Tripp Toler.” He pauses, looks at our table, then smiles wide.
The room fills with applause from the hundreds of people who have filled the auditorium. My chest swells with pride when I hear the crowd begin to chant my husband’s name.
“I’m lucky enough to personally know Breccan and Ryker. Breccan Carlisle and I have been friends since we were just wimpy, pimple-faced kids.”
Breccan interrupts him and shouts, “Speak for yourself, Tripp! I’ve never been wimpy.”
The crowd erupts in laughter.
Tripp flips him the bird before continuing. “Breccan’s never been known for being couth. But, unfortunately for me, he’s right.”
He launches into the story of how they met, and I laugh, shaking my head at the memory of that schoolyard fight. He continues to talk about their lifelong friendship, and I gaze across the table to Breccan, who has a smirk on his face. One arm’s wrapped around Sidney’s shoulders, the other draped across the back of the chair five-year-old Olivia is sitting in. Mason, Breccan and Sidney’s one-year-old son, is asleep in his mama’s arms, his precious little mouth hanging open.
The crowd laughs at something my brother said, and I feel a tug on my arm.
“Mama?” a little voice whispers in my ear.
“Yes?” I whisper back, glancing down at Ellie, one of my four-year-old twins.
“Unca Tripp is really funny!” she whisper-shouts, a lopsided grin on her face.
I smile back and mutter, “Yeah, but don’t tell him that.”
It was just six weeks after Ryker won his comeback fight and popped the question that I found out it wasn’t a terrible case of food poisoning, but instead a serious case of being knocked up––with twins. I was terrified. We hadn’t even started planning our wedding, and there I was, about to show him a grainy ultrasound picture with two kidney beans that were supposed to be babies. I had no idea how he’d take the news, worried that it would be a deal breaker, but I should have known better.
Ryker was over the moon, and when we found out that they were girls, he insisted we name them after Gram. She was beside herself with glee when we told her that we were naming one of them Ellie and the other Hattie.
The child in my lap turns, knocking the silverware from the table. When it clatters to the floor, she squeals in delight.
“Cinny!” I hiss, my teeth clenched. I glare at her, giving her my best “Mom’s serious” face, but instead of striking fear in her the way I intended, she giggles.
“Mama, dat’s a silly face!” she shouts.
A mere three months after the birth of the twins, I came down with the stomach flu. Except I didn’t have the nasty virus that had been going around. What I had was a case of being pregnant––again. Two weeks after the girls turned one, Cinny, named after my mother, made her grand entrance into the world. Thirty minutes after my water broke and only ten minutes after I’d arrived at the hospital. The doctor caught her as he was still pulling on his gloves.
She’s been doing things her way since, and I should have known I was in trouble from that very moment.
I snap my head toward Ryker and see him grinning broadly. Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “Do something with your child.”
He shifts Hattie, who is quietly sitting on his lap, to one thigh. After wrapping a muscular arm around Cinny’s waist, he pulls her from my lap to his. When he gets both girls situated, I glance down at my dress, trying to smooth the wrinkles from the designer gown.
I spent the day pampering myself in preparation, partly because it was a big night for my husband, but also because I’d needed the excuse to get out of the house and do something for myself. Tonight is the first night in weeks that I’m not dressed in yoga pants covered in dog hair.
Poor Prince quickly went from being a pampered pooch to a jungle gym for wiggly toddlers. But he took it in stride, and the girls all adore him. The twins even insisted on having his picture on their last birthday cake.
Ryker catches my hands, stilling them, and leans over to whisper in my ear, “You look incredible. Like always.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth blooms in my chest. Most days, I don’t even recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror, motherhood having a way of changing you and making you realize what’s important in life. But Ryker never once, even when I was heavy with the twins, stopped telling me that I am beautiful and making me feel like the center of his world.
He releases my hand, and using his thumb and forefinger, he turns my head to face him before pressing his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth.
Little girl giggles interrupt us, and he pulls away, winking at Ellie.
With a quick peck on his lips, I promise, “We’ll finish this tonight.”
Ryker offers a sly smile and says, “Let’s make another little princess.”
I blink twice and whisper, “Have you forgotten what it’s like when I can’t drink wine?” With the reminder, I grab my glass and take a swallow. “You’ve lost your mind. The princess factory is closed, buddy.”
“Aw,
don’t be such a spoil sport,” Gram pipes up on the other side of Ellie. “How about one more?”
I whip my head to look at her. “Whose side are you on here, Gram?”
She chuckles. “The princess’s side, of course.”
I am not surprised. With twins on the way, I finally got serious about selling my condo. We were lucky enough to find a large house near Breccan and Sidney that was outfitted with a mother-in-law suite behind it and promptly moved Gram in. She began spoiling the girls the moment they were born, much like my parents did with both Breccan’s kids and mine.
I look over to my parents and smile when I notice my mom playing a game of tic-tac-toe with Olivia on a napkin. With Breccan’s parents not a part of his life and Sidney’s gone, my mom and dad enthusiastically took on the role of grandparents. Our summertime cookouts are still a weekly affair, my parents relishing having children in the house again.
Tripp says Ryker’s name, and I turn my attention back to his speech.
“Ryker Hawke walked into my gym one hot July day and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Here we are, five years later, and he still doesn’t take no for an answer, insisting that Breccan and he be inducted into the Hall of Fame together. Seeing as how I grew up with his wife, I know the shit he has to put up with at home, so I made sure to oblige his request.”
Tripp winks at me, and I stick my tongue out. The girls giggle beside me, and I turn my gaze to my husband.
Remembering that fateful July day, I study his handsome profile, my stomach fluttering. Even after all of this time, I still can’t get over how sexy he is.
He cuts his gaze over at me and asks, “What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just can’t believe we’re here. You and Breccan in the Hall of Fame. Our family together. These precious, pain-in-my-ass girls you gave me.” My eyes begin to water as I stroke Cinny’s hair. “Our life together. It’s perfect. You’ve made my life perfect.”
He wraps his arm around my bare shoulders, pulling me into his side. His forefinger traces my collarbone, and a shiver races down my spine.
“My life was a mess, and at the rate I was going, it wasn’t going to get better. I’d given up, convinced myself that I was nothing anymore. But you saw me and saw through the bullshit.” He stops talking and lifts his chin across the table. “Doll, look around.”
I make another sweep around the table, my heart nearly bursting.
“I had nothing to do with this, baby. This is all you.”
I nod, a tear rolling down my cheek. He uses his thumb to wipe it away, and I grab his hand before bringing his palm to my lips and kissing it.
“It’s just so crazy. The last few years with the babies. You winning every one of your fights before deciding that you’d done everything you wanted to and then retiring. On your terms. Us opening the other gyms together.”
He smirks. “Crazy is right. But it only makes sense, seeing as I married the craziest woman I’ve ever known.”
I narrow my eyes and whisper, “Careful now. I still have time to develop a headache.”
He chuckles. “You may be crazy, but you’re my brand of crazy.” He kisses my temple, and my stomach flutters at the contact of his lips on my skin, just like it always has. “And, baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Acknowledgments
First and Foremost: the readers. For supporting me, for sending me kind messages, and for taking a chance on a newbie author. Thank you times a thousand.
The bloggers: Thanks for signing up for my cover reveals, my release blitzes, my blog tours. Thank you for sending words of encouragement. Thank you for promoting me even when you didn’t have to.
Allison: let’s be honest, this book should probably be dedicated to you too. You are more than just an amazing friend. You are just a good fucking person. I cannot imagine juggling all that you do and still wanting to help other people out, but you do. You are always available to answer questions, make a graphic, answer more questions, offer moral support, and let’s not forget, answer even more questions. This journey, this crazy rollercoaster ride, would be impossible without you. So, a zillion times, thank you.
Danielle: The laptop crashing was a terrible setback, but, uh, where’s your book? Get to writing! I love you. You have always been my bestest friend, and I can’t imagine this life without you. Not many people are able to say that their best friend has ALWAYS been their best friend. But I can.
Bianca: Thank you for pushing me. For messaging me daily. For always being the most amazing cheerleader. For being optimistic and encouraging. For being a hardass. For being you. I love your face. I miss your face.
Megan C: Thank you for agreeing to beta. Thank you for being so enthusiastic. Thank you for loving my words, for telling me so, for sending me crazy notes. You are invaluable, and I am lucky to have you on my side.
Amie: I’m so proud of you. So so so proud. Thank you for your encouragement. For your funny stories. For becoming such a good friend to me.
Mo: Long live the toe.
Writing a novel is no easy task, no matter if it’s your first or your tenth. And it would be impossible without the readers, bloggers, fellow authors, friends and family that are always so supportive. So thank you so much to everyone that’s had a hand in helping this idea become a full-fledged novel.
About the Author
A.S. Teague enjoys the warmth of South Carolina with her husband and two daughters. The stereotypes about peach cobbler and sweet tea are not overstated. After years in the medical field, she is now enjoying every minute of being a stay-at-home mom. She loves wine, the beach, wine on the beach, and crying at Disney movies. When she doesn’t have a book in her hand, she can be found pestering her husband with pictures of animals she wants to rescue, as well as debating whether to exercise or take a nap.