Rainbows Ever After

by J. J. McAvoy

  “This kinda feels like a present for yourself,” I teased, seeing as how he complained to high heaven I wasn’t wearing my rings.

  “So be it,” he muttered, kissing my hand.

  “The second, what? A marriage license?”

  His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “Levi—”

  “Kidding.” He laughed kissing my cheek and handed me the folder.

  Opening, I stared at the company letterhead on the folder before opening. I sifted through the papers before looking up to him.

  “When you come back to work, you can’t come back empty handed, right?” He grinned at me and slowly as I began to realize the level of the case that was now in my hand, I began to grin as well.

  “Seriously?”

  “Everyone has been gunning for the chance to represent him. It’s not a freebie. It’s lunch with him and his agent. If you can sign him—”

  “I’ll be a total bad ass.” I hugged it to my chest. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me.”

  He frowned. “You mean, outside of my love, my son, a diamond ring, this tree house—”

  “Yeah. Yeah!” I cut in, laughing, still hugging the folder. “Outside of the obvious.”

  He stared at me, waiting.

  “What?”

  “My gift.”

  I tried to be serious and stared back. “You mean, outside of already having my love, a son—”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I saw you shove something into your purse before we left, so fork it over.”

  Rolling my eyes, I got up and moved to pick up my bag from the maze of clothes on the ground. Lifting the file, I handed it to him.

  “You got me a case too?” He opened it, pulling out the papers. He stared at it for so long I was sure it would melt under the intensity of his gaze. Without a word, he flipped to the next page. And the next. And the next. Until he came to the end and started chuckling.

  Looking over at me, he shook his head and pulled me into his lap. Coughing once to clear his throat, he flipped to the first page and held it in front of me.

  “And this is?” he asked.

  “I’m sure you can read it—”

  “Say it.”

  Sighing, I nodded. “Application for our marriage license.”

  “And this?”

  “Applications to get my new driver’s license, social security card, passport. Also, my mail, insurance, doctor's notes, even voter registration.”

  “Why?”

  He was really milking this; “Because my name is Thea Black, and no longer Thea Cunning.”

  “And this paper?”

  “Levi!”

  “Out with it.”

  “It’s our new joint bank account,” I answered.

  He grinned like a mad man, and I put my hands on the side of his face and kissed him. Kissing his lips softly before everything just started to slip out of my mouth.

  “I love you, Levi. The day you walked up to me in that bar was the first of many of the best days of my life. And nothing makes me happier, with the exception of our son, than knowing I get to spend the rest of my life with you … than knowing I’m your wife and you’re my husband. So, happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Sorry for taking so long.”

  He didn’t say anything with his mouth, but his eyes spoke volumes. Flipping me on to my back on top of the bed, he rested his forehead against mine, his hand on my thigh.

  “Mrs. Black,” he whispered, kissing me.

  “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Black.” He kissed me again, and I answered.

  “Yes.”

  Yes. I was Thea Black. Mother of Ulric Black. Wife of Levi Black. And damn proud of it.

  PART TWO

  PAST & PRESENT

  PRESENT

  LEVI

  “Why do I have this annoying feeling you are trying to show off right now?” Tristan muttered as we rode up the elevator.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. Tilting my hand even more to look at the tablet, so that it was the first thing anyone would see as we walked off the elevator.

  “Good morning, Mr. Black. Mr. Knox,” the receptionist said as we stopped in front of her. “Morning, Ms. Courtney. How has been the office been?” I asked, flexing my fingers as her blue eyes dropped to the ring, and then back to me quickly.

  Smiling, she nodded. “Pretty much the same as always. I gave most of the details to Mr. Knox … Congrats on your marriage, sir.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded as I walked away. Within a few minutes, I was more than positive the whole firm would know. Ms. Courtney could get gossip through the office faster than wildfire. She was also good at getting gossip on other firms, which was why she was still here.

  “Why am I friends with you?” Tristan snickered as we walked, nodding at the associates as we did.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Black.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  “Happy New Year.”

  All of their statements reminded me just how long it had been since I’d been in the office. I was a father now. A husband … finally. By the time I made it to my corner office, I was actually tired of the welcome-back parade. However, Betty, being the old and sage woman she was, shot party streamers right at my face as soon as I stepped inside my fruit-basket-baby-gift-covered office. A large banner with the words WELCOME BACK hung on my window and blocked the view of my beautiful city.

  “Welcome back, sir!” everyone yelled again, clapping.

  “Jesus Christ.” I jumped, glaring at Tristan, who clapped loudly in my ear. “Thank you. Thank you. Now, can someone please clean this shit up?”

  It was like a maze getting to my desk. They all laughed, but one voice rang out louder than the rest.

  “So unfair.” I knew that voice. We all knew that voice.

  Turning, they made way for her, as if she were splitting the Red Sea, my wife, Thea Black, dressed in a high-waisted black skirt and light pink blouse with a bow at the neck. She walked forward, into the middle of the department store that blew up in the middle of my office.

  “I did all the heavy lifting, and you’re the one who gets all the gifts.” She picked up the giant teddy bear, and looked to the associates outside. “There wasn’t even so much of a ‘congrats’ card on my desk.”

  “Thea!” Atticus Logan came up from the back, dressed in his black suit, though his jacket was off. His sandy blonde hair cut much shorter now. “I didn’t realize you were coming back today.”

  “How else am I going to get my name on the wall?” she asked, setting the teddy bear back down.

  In my most dead-serious tone, I reminded her, “I’m quite sure the name Black is up there.”

  “Then it either needs to be raised to the second power, or Black-Knox-Black will have to do,” she shot back, just as seriously. And when I looked up at her, telling her not to push it here, on her first day, she just glared at me.

  “You have a long, long way to go, Mrs. Black,” Tristan spoke, walking up to my desk. “Before you become a name partner. Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

  She picked a pack of hazelnut tea out of the bag. “Do you mind if I take these? My clients are going to be here any moment.”

  “Clients?” Raymond, who was one of the oldest associates, AKA, the one who believed his name was going to get up on the wall, asked. “I wasn’t aware you were working, Mrs. Black.”

  Tristan glanced at me. I stared at her. She smirked at all of us.

  “Bullshit,” I called her out.

  “Betty.” She turned to my secretary. “I’m surprised Mr. Black doesn’t have the file already.”

  “I put it on his desk, and added it to his schedule along with his coffee mug.” She nodded and walked toward the doors as everyone just stared.

  Glancing under my palm, at said file, then at the coffee mug on the table, I pulled off the yellow sticky note. Cracking my jaw, I turned the note for Tristan to read. He
glanced at it, and then back at her.

  “The New England Patriots are your clients?!”

  She frowned. “No!”

  “Mrs. Black—”

  “The wives of each of the New England Patriots are my clients, and we’re going to sue the NFL.” The frown on her face morphed into the most sinister grin as she held up the tea for me to see again. “Yes or no to the tea?”

  Tristan looked to me, and I shook my head. The case I gave her was on the assault and battery of Mitchell Davey, running back for the New England Patriots. It was almost impossible to get the spouses of athletes to sue … and yet somehow…

  “Mrs. Black,” Betty came over the intercom.

  “Yes, Betty?” She called out, reaching for a tin of baskets to take with her as well.

  “They’re here.”

  Her eyes widened as she turned to me. “I’ll be taking these; I’ve already set up a live stream in the conference room, as they prefer to have no men in the meeting. Welcome back, Boss.”

  She nodded, and headed out. The first person to speak was Tristan.

  “So this is what it is like to have a good associate. It’s been so long.” Tristan sighed. “Meanwhile, this lot is just standing around, giving out teddy bears.”

  “Which dead weight are we letting go of first?” I asked, sitting back in my chair. In a flash, they were gone. It happened so quickly, the door didn’t even have time to fully close. But when it did, Tristan spun to face me.

  “You got married yesterday!” he snapped. “I know … I was there! And you didn’t think to let me know—”

  “I didn’t even know!” I snapped back, rubbing the side of my head as I lifted the case file. “She was just supposed to get Mrs. Davey to sue and now we’re…”

  I read the suit she planned to file, my mouth dropping open.

  “What?” He waited impatiently

  “Now we’re the sons of bitches suing the NFL for Gross Negligence and Willful Misconduct toward the spouses of the players.”

  “On what grounds?!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, because it was genius and very possible, so I read what was before me: “In 2013, the National Football League settled class action Concussion Litigations, which over the next 65 years, will cost the NFL $900 million, if not more. In so doing, the National Football League publicly brought attention to the detrimental impact that repeated blows had to the human brain and overall behavioral problems. And yet, since 2013, there has been no accountability for the second victims, the wives, many of whom were on the receiving end of their spouse's outbursts. Not only did the NFL fail in providing a guide to these women to care for their spouses, but repeatedly, they swept cases of domestic abuse under the rug. Other cases such as Mrs. Patricia Davey, who was beaten and dragged into a hotel room by her husband, Mitchell Davey, starting running back for the New England Patriots, was met with little to no attention by the mangers, head coaches, and other officials within the league. Mitchell Davey, who already has had two serious concussions, was suspended for only three games. First, he was told to work out his issues with his wife, with no guide to do so. Second, his wife was forced to deal with a hazardous situation, which she was not equipped to handle. Third, no further guidance or care was provided after said three-day suspension, despite being aware of the issues within their organization, the National Football League did and continues to do nothing.”

  When I looked up back at him, he was sinking into his seat, taking a deep breath. “We’re going to have up security.”

  “Up security or ‘round of the clock security,” I muttered, putting the file on the desk. “Do you remember the last time lawyers tried to sue America’s #1 sport? And that’s when it was coming from former players.” The backlash was swift and deep. Suing the NFL, for most people, was akin to suing football, and I knew people who loved football more than their own children.

  “Your wife…” He shook his head. “You really didn’t know?”

  “No. And if she can hide this, I’m kinda terrified,” I admitted. We’d just gotten married yesterday at The Ritz-Carlton, even though I couldn’t remember anything other than her and our son. Not the décor, or the flowers my mother spent a fortune on, nor the beautiful view behind us. It was as if we were already married and just renewing vows, my attention was only on her.

  PAST

  LEVI

  “She could still run.” Tristan, the asshole, muttered behind me.

  “I doubt it.” Rolling my eyes, I glanced at Ulric, who tried to fit his fist into his mouth as my mother held him in her lap. She fixed the red bowtie around his neck and pointed to me. He looked up at me and laughed, reaching out for me.

  “Levi.”

  “He’s part of the wedding, too,” I said, lifting him up and walking back on to the altar.

  Tristan shook his head at me, but took a step back, making room for both of us. No sooner had I gotten back into place, the doors opened, and Vivian, walked out first in a silk red gown, holding on to white roses. Behind her was my sister, her eyes only on Tristan. Bellamy came out in her pink dress, tossing rose petals, and concentrating very hard at it, too. Tristan smiled, and pulled out his phone, taking more than a dozen photos at least.

  Finally, she walked out, linking arms with her father on her right and her sister on her left. The star, my star, walked out gracefully, the long, white silk dress she wore was simple, not distracting anyone from the real beauty that was her. She held pink and red roses in her hands, laughing when she saw both Ulric and I waiting at the end for her.

  “Slick move.” Selene pouted, poking Ulric’s cheek before moving.

  “I had a threat a prepared for you, but seeing you hold my grandson made me forget it.” Ben frowned at me, but put his hand on my shoulder, and stepped over for Thea to stand in front of me.

  “Holding our son hostage?” Thea grinned, reaching out to cup his face.

  “He reached out for me.” I shifted over to one side. “Apparently, he also wanted to watch the most beautiful in the woman walk toward him.”

  She shook her head and laughed, reaching out to take my hand. “Always the smooth operator, Mr. Black.”

  I winked at her. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Mrs. Black.”

  PRESENT

  LEVI

  “Earth to Levi!” Tristan snapped at me.

  Glaring at him for cutting off my daydream, I hollered, “What?”

  He nodded to the folder in front of me. “You know this will snowball; she can’t take this case alone … the whole firm is going to have to work it.”

  “Let her have the victory today. We’ll talk—”

  “We’ll or you.”

  “I go alone, and she might pull a fast one on me, and next thing we know, we’ll be Black-Knox-Black.”

  “And here I thought you always win—”

  “How often do you win against Bethan?”

  He groaned, rubbing his temple. “Why did you marry our associate again?”

  Ignoring him, I leaned back, and thought of how this was going to work when I felt my phone buzz. I read the message and showed it to him.

  “I take it back. Why didn’t you marry her sooner?” He grinned.

  The ladies are telling me other wives, from different teams, want in. We’re going to need all hands on deck.

  “Levi, I have Michael Shortz, the director of the NFL on the line; apparently, you aren’t answering your phone,” Betty buzzed in. I checked my phone, and sure enough, he was blocked. Thea.

  “It’s the first day,” I reminded them all, because apparently, I was the only one not prepared for the shit storm coming. The only reason why Shortz was calling was to settle. The reason why he was blocked on my phone was because Thea knew he’d call and didn’t want a damn settlement. She was that many moves ahead of me.

  I looked to Tristan as he pulled a coin from his pocket.

  “Seriously?”

  “You have a better way of choosing.”

 
I waved my hand for him to go on.

  “Heads,” I called when he flipped it into the air.

  “Tails,” he said, and I picked up the phone.

  “Put him through, Betty,” I replied.

  “Mr. Black—”

  “We aren’t settling unless you admit guilt and pay out,” I told him directly, and Tristan’s brows rose.

  “This will get very ugly, very quickly, Mr. Black. Do you know how many people love football in this country?”

  I smirked. “Who do you think will play me in the next movie about the league? I still think Concussion was robbed during the Oscars.”

  Dial tone.

  “What did he say?” Tristan asked when I hung up the phone.

  “He said Chris Pine, and here I was thinking more Jake Gyllenhaal or maybe Aidan Turner?”

  “What?”

  “The movie version of me.” I laughed, taking the baseball from my desk and leaning backward.

  He stood up; “You’re a twat.”

  “A twat?” I laughed.

  “Yes.” He nodded, walking toward the door. “Now excuse me as I go prepare for the biggest case we’ll have this year, if ever … you know the one your wife got … not you. She deserves to play herself … with Jake Gyllenhaal… or maybe Aidan Turner.”

  I bit my tongue to keep from cursing him out as he left. He just had to piss in my cheerios. Breathing in, I ignored him, typing on my phone quickly to ask if she got permission for me to view the feed.

  I did.

  Nodding, I sat up and lifted my laptop open when she texted again.

  My welcome back gift was so much better than theirs.

  Smirking, I replied, We’ll see.

  Tristan didn’t seem to get that Thea and I were a team. Her wins were my wins. Her cases, my cases and vice versa. There was going to be no grace period when we turned. No natural end to a happily ever after, because we just kept moving forward. There was always something more. And this next battle, I couldn’t wait to fight it with her.

  I didn’t want to settle either.

  I’d always wanted to behead a Goliath.

  Like she’d said, she and I were going to make waves together.