Epilogue
Heaven
One year later…
“Hey, Mrs. Cooper!” I heard shouted and I looked up from the tray of sliced tomatoes, onions and lettuce leaves I was arranging to the front door.
Three of Sam’s boys were crowded there, grinning at me.
“Yo,” I replied.
Their grins got bigger. They knew me and thought I was a dork. In fact, Demaine, who was standing there, was brash and hilarious and at the barbeque Sam and I had for the boys at the end of last season, told Sam right out, “Your woman is hot, Mr. Cooper, but she’s a total dork.”
Sam had burst out laughing and replied, “You are not wrong.”
I didn’t take offense. My husband thought I was hot so I figured I was allowed to be a dork.
I gave them a half wave; they gave me chin lifts and moved out to the crowded deck.
This year’s barbeque was pre-season as Sam decreed from here on out it would be. Pre-season barbeque at our house, post-season party at Skippy’s Crab Shack. Team building. No parents. No girlfriends. Only coaches, boys and me.
Considering last year Sam grilled hamburgers (that I made), hotdogs (that Sam “prepared” by expending the effort of slicing open the package with a knife) and brats (again with Sam and a knife) and I did everything else, I disregarded Sam’s “team and Mrs. Cooper only” rule and called in reinforcements.
That was why Maris, Mom, Dad, Luci, Hap and Skip were there.
Well, I didn’t call Skip. He just showed as Skip was wont to do randomly and with relative frequency but always in a bad mood about something though it usually (and luckily) wasn’t about Sam or me. He currently wasn’t doing anything but drinking our beer and being surly but, whatever. The kids thought he was a stitch mainly because he was.
My eyes scanned the deck and I smiled to myself.
Then my eyes dropped to what my hands were doing and I caught sight of my wedding rings.
My smile got huge.
Sam was Sam, always and to everyone who even slightly knew him.
But my wedding rings were the wedding rings worn by the wife of Sampson Cooper.
It was safe to say Sam did not fuck around when he bought me my wedding rings. The solitaire was enormous, set high, the platinum band embedded with smaller diamonds. The wedding band also was set with diamonds. It was not borderline ostentatious. It just was.
I loved it.
Obviously, Sam and I got married. Sam wore a tux, a dove gray vest that looked hot on him, no tie or shoes and the hems of his trousers folded up over his ankles. He looked beautiful. I wore a Massimo wedding gown that way beat the shit out of the gown I wore to marry Cooter. I also was barefoot. I knew I looked fantastic mainly because Sam told me so repeatedly that day as well as after that day, in fact, he reminisced about “how fuckin’ gorgeous” I looked while studying our framed wedding picture just yesterday. We tied the knot on the anniversary of the day we met and had breakfast. We did it on the beach in front of Sam’s house. We did it with only close family and friends in attendance. And we managed to do it without the media catching on.
After it was over, Sam’s agent released a photo of us to the paper. Then Sam released his agent. He didn’t need him anymore. Sam had made his decision. He no longer had a public life. No more guest appearances on sports shows. No more anything. He had other things to occupy his time.
And he was loving it.
And because my husband was loving it, I loved it more.
Even before Sam and I got back from England, as ever, when Sam made a decision, Sam didn’t mess around. He called the president of the School Board in Kingston and told him he was interested in coaching the Wildcats. As I guessed, they were all over it. When Sam and I got back, Sam dove in. The old head coach stayed involved for half the season and then (gratefully, seriously, Sam was not wrong, he was all about fishing) bowed out.
This caused a furor not only in Kingston but nationwide. America adored the idea of Sampson Cooper moving from being a national hero to being a high school football coach. They thought it was awesome. They thought it was cool. They thought it showed exactly the kind of man he was, no network television, no big man stunts, it wasn’t about keeping his celebrity; it was about doing whatever the hell he wanted to do. It was pure Sam.
They were right.
However, this meant there was intense scrutiny on the Wildcats once they entered the season.
They lost their first four games, the first two of these they lost soundly and Sam and the boys took those hits very publicly, very widely and, surprisingly, viciously.
I was terrified. The sniggering tone of the commentary was not at all to my liking, as it wouldn’t be. I worried for Sam and I also worried about his boys who were not used to that kind of attention.
Sam didn’t react at all. He was focused. And he managed to keep his boys focused.
After that, they didn’t lose a single game. Not one. And in the end, they kicked ass.
It. Was. Awesome!
Unfortunately the early losses meant they didn’t see post-season play.
I had a feeling they would this year.
Incidentally, watching Sam coach and his boys play, I learned to love football.
But only the high school kind.
At the end of the football season, the School Board approached Sam with the offer to be the school’s Athletic Director. The old coach held that position too and they had yet to fill it.
Sam took it. It meant more time, more money (not that that mattered) and it was something he enjoyed.
Therefore, we were at the school all the time.
Yes, we.
Sam did his gig alone with his boys at practice but I came to all of his games. I also went with Sam to all the other sporting events at the school. Girls volleyball, track, girls and boys basketball, baseball, softball, wrestling. We even went to away games, matches and meets. Sam was serious about the job, was hands on and he paid attention.
I’d never been into sports but high school athletics was something else. It was about heart. It was about team and school spirit. It was totally amazing.
So I became queen of Kingston athletics to Sam’s king. In other words, the Booster Club approached me to become their chair, I took it on and I was all about bake sales, setting up carnivals and planning all-you-can eat spaghetti dinners. The kids needed equipment, decent uniforms, stuff like that, and there was never enough money. So a bunch of parents and I went about raising money.
I found I had a knack for it but not only that; it was all kinds of fun.
This wasn’t to say I didn’t investigate the idea of opening a shop in Kingston. I looked into this. I even went out to California for a week with Luci and hung with Maris at her ultra-awesome shop in Malibu.
And I didn’t like it much.
It just was not for me.
Luci loved it.
So she opened a shop in Kingston.
Obviously, considering her fashion connections and good taste, it was a hit. And I helped her out, working part-time which mostly meant hanging out with Luci, gossiping, giggling, trying on (and, often, taking home) gorgeous clothes and sometimes waiting on customers or tidying racks and shelves. But mostly I spent my time cleaning the house, grocery shopping, cooking when Sam wasn’t in the mood (my man did most of the cooking, what could I say? – he liked it and he was good at it), taking my dog for walks, going to sporting events with Sam and arranging fund-raisers so the kids in the sports program could have kickass shit.
I was particularly pleased with the volleyball outfits the girls would have this year. They were top of the line, the brand Olympians wore. They cost a blooming fortune but the carnival made a killing. And they were worth every penny. Freaking phenomenal. The girls were in fits of glee.
See? Told you I had a knack for it.
Sam had also taken on another project, something he shared with me in bed one night not long after we got home from England. It was something he shared with me he’d been kicking around for years, even before he quit playing pro ball.
He wanted to do a summer football camp for underprivileged boys like the boys he’d grown up with, like the boy he used to be. A minimal number of slots, the boys had to apply but they wouldn’t pay, not even for travel. Three weeks of training and not just in football. It would be a kind of football boot camp. Part sports training, part military training. It wasn’t just going to be about physical fitness and learning to play the game. It was about dedication, loyalty, team, honor, reaching inside and finding that part of you that you could latch onto to pull yourself out of the circumstances life thrust you in and find something better.
I loved this idea. Loved it enough that I gave three million dollars to help endow it. Sam put in the rest. Then he recruited buddies in the game as well as buddies from the military who not only helped process the applications to select which boys would get to go but also to run the camp.
And, last July, using Kingston High as their base, Sam and a bunch of NFL and Army badasses inaugurated the Sampson and Kia Cooper Football Camp. I was against my name being added but Sam did it anyway.
There it was. Sam made a decision, acted on it and, really, there wasn’t anything to complain about. So I didn’t.
This also caused an outpouring of love for Sam and the men who gave their time. Sam ignored it. The NFL players involved didn’t and their agents got them a lot of play in the media for it. This was good seeing as donations started coming in. So Sam and I started a fund, got not-for-profit status and we got so much money, next year, we were going to be able to take twice as many boys. Not to mention, younger NFL players heard about it, dug the idea and approached Sam about being involved.
It was cool.
This also, since I managed the administrative part of it, took my time.
I finished with the tray, picked it up and took it out to the deck. There were tables set up against the screened porch, all groaning with food. I’d learned last year that high school football players really didn’t care if the potato salad, macaroni salad and brownies were homemade. They’d eat anything, lots of it and think it was the bomb.
So, except for forming a gazillion hamburger patties, slicing veggies and laying stuff out, the work was done. In other words, it wasn’t as much work as last year.
I didn’t tell Sam this. If he knew, I might not be able to call in reinforcements next year and I liked our beach house filled with family.
I put the tray down and turned my eyes to Sam who was standing with Hap and a couple of his boys at the grill. My gaze moved to one of the boys because he had Memphis in his arms, a Memphis was wriggling and licking. Memphis, not that it was a surprise, totally loved Sam’s team. She also liked to go to the games with me. This meant she could run around the field after the games were over, chasing the boys while they played with her.
Memphis’s version of heaven.
The boy holding my dog, Wes, was a senior, he was an excellent running back, he had a steady girl and he clearly didn’t care that liking a King Charles spaniel might mean a hit to his street cred. Then again, none of the boys did. This was likely because Sam didn’t and his kids, every one, thought he walked on water.
He couldn’t walk on water. But he could do everything else.
I grinned at Wes then my eyes moved to Sam to see his on me.
So I grinned at him.
I watched his face get soft and his eyes get warm and intense.
Then he grinned back.
Beautiful.
Never, not ever, would I get used to his beauty. I knew this and this made me happy.
Then I felt fingers clamp on my arm and my head turned to see Luci had hold of me. She looked serious, she looked kind of pissed and she looked like she was on a mission.
Oh man.
I suspected this was going to happen.
And I suspected this because, three weeks ago, something happened.
What, I did not know.
What I did know was that Hap was down for the weekend, he stayed with Luci at her new place which was only ten houses away from Sam and my place. We’d all gone to Skip’s (incidentally, after what went down with Luci then with Sam and me, Skip had lifted the ban on Hap having his ass at a picnic table at the Shack which was a relief since we spent a lot of time at the Shack), we’d all had a sandwich and accompanied this by having a few drinks. We’d then moved the party to Luci’s, Sam and I left and then well… something happened.
I just didn’t know what.
But I suspected.
Luci didn’t share. Hap didn’t share. But before whatever it was went down, Hap came most weekends. After what went down, he stopped. He also mostly stopped communicating. As did Luci. They were avoiding Sam and me.
Then Luci came by our house the weekend after. Hap was supposed to be there but he’d called Sam to say he wasn’t coming. For some reason, when Luci heard this, she got pissed.
But she still didn’t share.
The next weekend, the same. Hap didn’t make plans to come, Luci called me, found out there was no Hap and I heard her voice get tight over the phone.
Now, with the barbeque, Hap couldn’t avoid coming. He also couldn’t avoid Luci. Though he was doing a bang up job trying even though she was right there.
When she arrived, it wasn’t lost on me she’d made an effort on her appearance. And for Luci this meant her sexy, sultry, exotic beauty was off the charts. Heck, I’d seen some of Sam’s boys running into each other, the deck railing and furniture because they were mesmerized by her beauty.
Hap was immune.
And obviously Luci didn’t like this.
As for me, I had a bad feeling about it.
“I need to speak with you,” she hissed then didn’t give me the chance to tear free and run screaming to the beach. She pulled me to the side walkway and down to the drive. Then she stopped us and wasted not a second before ordering, “Okay, I need you to go back up there and find some way to bring Hap down to me.”
Uh-oh.
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
“Something happened,” she announced.
Oh man.
“I think I got that, sweetie,” I told her quietly. “For a year, Hap’s down every weekend. For the last three weeks, we don’t see him and barely hear from him and this is all after we left him with you. What went down?”
Again, she wasted not a second and informed me bluntly, “I made a pass at him.”
I blinked.
Okay, I was thinking that was what happened or something akin to that but for some reason having this assumption confirmed threw me for a loop.
“What?” I asked.
“You and Sam left, Hap and I kept drinking then we drank more. We were laughing and talking but he wasn’t doing anything,” she griped, definitely griped, all sexy, sultry, deep-throated, Italian-accented griping. It was cute coming from Luci. It still threw me.
“What do you mean, doing anything?” I asked.
“He wasn’t hitting on me!” she snapped.
There it was.
This was bad. I knew it. This was definitely bad.
“So you did,” I whispered, worried.
“Of course I did. I learned not to play games. Not to waste time. So I kissed him.”
Oh man.
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He kissed me back, of course.”
I blinked again.
That wasn’t what I expected to hear. I expected Hap would deflect her pass and he was avoiding her in an effort to keep deflecting it.
Clearly, I was wrong.
“Seriously?” I queried and her brows shot together.
“Yes, seriously. Of course, seriously. It was a good kiss!”
Oh man!
“How good?” I asked.
“So good, he picked me up, carried me inside, put me on the couch, joined me there and we did more than kiss. A lot more.”
Oh man!
“Luci –” I started but she kept talking.
“And that was good too. Very good. Unbelievably good. Then, when it was getting amazingly good and close to phenomenally good, suddenly, out of nowhere, he stops, gets to his feet, mutters, ‘Luc, so sorry, so fuckin’ sorry,’ and he leaves!”
Exasperated, she threw her hands up on the last two words.
I got closer and grabbed both of them.
Then I did the only thing I could do.
I gave it to her straight.
“Honey, Hap…” I shook my head. “You can’t go there.”
“Why?” she snapped.
“Because he’s Hap,” I explained but obviously this was not enough of an explanation.
I knew this when she snapped again, “So?”
“He was tight with Gordo,” I reminded her.
She nodded her head sharply and repeated a curt, “So?”
I shook my head gently and kept explaining, “So, to Hap, no matter what, you’re Gordo’s and always will be.”
“Travis is dead,” she returned shortly and I sucked in breath.
She yanked her hands from mine, took a step away and dragged the fingers of one through her thick hair.
Then her eyes locked on me.
“I know,” she told me. “I know how it is with these men. But he feels it, I know he does. It started awhile ago, months ago. Months, Kia. He made me laugh. He always made me laugh but suddenly, the sadness was gone and he made me laugh. And I saw the way he would look at me. And I liked it, cara mia. Not just noticing a man’s attention but noticing the attention of a man who could make me laugh like that.”
I’d heard that before in a way.
“Honey –” I began again only to be cut off again.
“And he’s handsome.”
She was right about that. Hap was beyond muscle bound but that didn’t mean he wasn’t very good-looking. He was. Totally.
Luci wasn’t done.
“And he is who he is. You take him how he is. He’s rough around the edges and that’s all he’ll ever be. He knows who he is and he isn’t going to change for anybody. I like that. And I like that, even being like that, he senses things about me. The laughter and that, just that, when I noticed he senses me, that was when he wasn’t just Hap anymore. He was Hap. And rough or not, his eyes would be gentle and his tone would be gentle if he sensed I needed that. And it was beautiful. This man, so coarse, who could also be so, unbelievably gentle.”
Yes, I’d noticed that too, Hap being gentle with Luci.
And I’d also noticed its beauty.
“Sweetie,” I said carefully, “he may feel things for you but you know these guys. They’re about honor and he would be dishonoring Gordo’s memory if he took anything anywhere with you. He won’t do it.” I got closer to her again and whispered, “He’ll never do it and he’s probably struggling with what happened. I hate to say this to you but it’s the truth. You need to back off and let this be. It’ll only be hard on him, hard on you and you might lose what he can give you if you –”
“That’s stupid,” she interrupted me to hiss. “He has one life. I have one life. Why would you not explore something that might mean happiness? There is no reason. I won’t accept there is. And I do not believe, not for one second, that the man I fell in love with and married who died way too young would not encourage both his friend and me to find happiness even if it meant with each other.”
Well, I had to admit, she had a point there.
Her voice changed, got soft, pleading, “Please, Kia, go and bring him to me.”
I bit my lip.
It was Luci who then caught my hand and when she did she squeezed.
Then she whispered, “This is not a tryst. This is not for fun. He’s my friend too and I love him. I would not do this to him, myself or the memory of my husband if this didn’t mean something to me.”
I believed her. Looking at her, it was impossible not to believe.
But it was more.
She was in love with George “Hap” Cunningham.
“Oh honey,” I whispered back.
I saw bright fill her eyes and she continued, “It isn’t the same. It wasn’t what I had with Travis. It didn’t hit me like a bullet. It snuck up on me. But I go to bed thinking about him and I wake up thinking about him. Now, for months, I’ve been waiting breathlessly for the weekend to come, for Hap to come. And these last three weeks, not having even a little of him, it hurt, cara mia. It was a new kind of pain but I knew, feeling that pain, being separated from him, not knowing what he’s thinking, worried about him, I know he means something to me. I know it’s worth trying. And I know, as a woman knows, the way he kissed me, touched me, that he goes to sleep and wakes up thinking of me. So I must try. Life doesn’t give you two chances to feel that strongly about two men and I cannot waste life, Kia, I cannot.” Her hand squeezed mine and she finished, “You know this just the same as me.”
Boy, did I.
Shit.
Shit!
“I’ll go get him.”
Yep. That was me.
Shit!
She smiled a trembling smile. She was relieved I agreed. But that tremble was something else. The beautiful, ex-supermodel Luciana was worried a man would deny her.
I was worried about the same thing.
Shit.
“Be right back,” I whispered.
“Okay,” she whispered back.
I gave her hand a squeeze.
Then I let her go, turned and walked up the walkway.
I didn’t want to do this and when you didn’t want to do something you had to do, you did it fast and got it out of the way. So that was what I did.
And anyway, Luci was waiting.
I walked right to the deck, right to the grill and therefore right to Hap.
But also right to my husband.
Eek!
“Can you come with me a sec?” I asked Hap, looking in his eyes and ignoring my husband’s eyes on me.
“No,” Hap answered instantly.
He saw me leave with Luci.
“Hap –”
“Don’t go there, babe,” Hap said quietly. It wasn’t mean. It was just quiet.
And, unfortunately, firm.
“What’s goin’ on?” Sam asked and I looked at him.
“Nothin’,” Hap muttered. “I’m gonna go to the beach and pass the ball with the boys.”
“No you’re not, Hap, you’re gonna come with me,” I told him and his eyes came back to me.
“Kia, babe, I said no.”
“And I say you owe her this,” I returned then got close. “I get you, honey, I get the war you’re waging within but there’s a woman waiting for you, she cares about you, you care about her and even just as friends, after what happened, you owe her this.”
Hap glared at me.
Sam semi-repeated, “What the fuck is goin’ on?”
I ignored my husband and endured Hap’s glare.
Then Hap muttered, “Fuck,” and stomped around me toward the walkway.
I started to follow him.
“Kia, baby,” Sam called, I looked over my shoulder and called back, “Explain in a minute, honey.”
Sam looked displeased.
I ignored that (kind of) and hurried after Hap.
I caught up halfway down the walkway and I knew I was right to agree to Luci’s demand when I saw her standing in the drive wearing her heart right on her sleeve.
Oh God. I hoped this worked out right however that right would be.
“Luc, babe, this is not –” Hap started immediately when he stopped three feet from her but I put my hand up and interrupted.
“Nope, no,” I stated then looked between a stony-faced Hap and an unhappy, visibly scared Luci. “Ground rules,” I declared and looked at Luci. “I love you. He loves you.” I jerked a thumb at Hap. “Sam loves you. And Sam told me once no matter how beautiful you are, Luci, and how Luci you are, he would never go there. Never. Because of Gordo. And he meant it, sweetie. It wasn’t an option and if that’s what Hap tells you now, you need to deal with it, process it and accept it. For Hap. And then you have to find it inside you to move on with him in your life the way he used to be.”
The tears started shimmering in her eyes again and when she opened her mouth to speak, I turned to Hap.
“And you,” I began. “You only have this life and the woman who’s standing here right now goes to bed thinking of you, she wakes up thinking of you, she thinks you’re handsome, a good kisser, gentle and you make her laugh. Travis Gordon was a good man and I know you loved him. But do not do something right now that you’re going to regret for the rest of your life because you’re intent on honoring the memory of a dead man. Or because you might be worried about what your buddies might think. Regret is the worst feeling you can feel and that would be compounded knowing the decision you’re about to make will make someone you love feel the same for the rest of hers.”
Hap stared at me, face still stony, jaw still hard but his eyes were heated and I knew I got in there.
Just a little bit.
My work was done.
“All right,” I finished. “This conversation is between the two of you. Have it. Make your decisions based on that and that alone. Whatever happens next, nothing changes for anyone else except you two.” I sucked in breath then ordered, “Commence.”
Then, without looking at either of them, I walked away.
I saw Sam standing at the top of the walkway, arms crossed on his chest, feet planted, eyes on me, face a little bit scary.
I got close to him and instantly tried to push him to the deck.
“What the fuck?” he asked, staying planted, solid, not budging an inch.
I gave up and told him, “Luci and Hap need some privacy.”
Sam’s more than a little bit scary eyes tipped down to me.
“Again, baby, what… the… fuck?”
“Sam –” I started.
“Talk,” he bit off.
“They’re in love,” I whispered and Sam blinked.
Then he declared, “They are fuckin’ not.”
Oh man.
“Yes, honey, they are.”
“They are not.”
“Sam!” I snapped.
“Hap would not do that to Gordo,” Sam announced.
“Sometimes, shit happens,” I said gently.
“Hap… would not… do that… to Gordo,” Sam stated definitively.
I sucked in breath.
Then I whispered, “Gordo’s not here, honey.”
Sam scowled at me then his eyes cut down the walk. I turned to stand by his side and started biting my lip.
Hap had his arms crossed on his chest, legs planted just like Sam making it appear like Sam was right.
Luci was looking beautiful and gorgeously beseeching, leaning into Hap, her fingers curled on his forearm making me hope Luci could pull this off.
Hap shook his head.
Okay, shit, maybe Luci couldn’t pull this off.
Luci leaned closer and said something.
Hap’s body went visibly still and he shook his head again.
Crap.
Even from a distance, I saw a tear fall from Luci’s eye as she said something else.
Oh God.
Hap shook his head again.
Oh God!
Luci stared at him. Then she nodded and stepped away. Then my heart squeezed as she studied him a half a second, turned on her foot and ran away.
“Fuck,” Sam whispered.
I stopped breathing.
Hap didn’t move.
I forced myself to breathe.
Hap still didn’t move.
I stopped myself from finding something to pick up and throw at him.
Hap dropped his head and looked at his feet.
“Fuck,” Sam repeated, still whispering.
“Go after her,” I whispered to a Hap who couldn’t hear me but I didn’t care. “Go, go, go, go, go after her,” I kept whispering, ending by doing it fiercely.
Hap didn’t move.
Not for awhile.
Then he lifted his head and stared at where Luci last was seen.
That was when my breath started coming fast.
Then he started walking that way.
I pressed my lips together and locked my body to stop myself from jumping up and down and shouting with glee.
“Fuck,” Sam whispered again.
Hap disappeared around the house.
I turned to my husband and lifted my finger to his face.
“Whatever comes of this, you’ll accept it,” I ordered.
His hand shot up, his fingers wrapping around my entire hand including the finger I was wagging in his face and he pulled it down and pressed it to his chest.
He studied me. I glared at him.
Then his lips twitched and he muttered, “Bossy.”
There it was. He was giving in. For me and for his friends.
Thank you, God.
I grinned and leaned into him.
Then I made a decision so I leaned further into him and wrapped my arm around his waist. He let my hand go so he could wrap both his arms around me. My freed hand went up to curl around his neck.
Then I said, “Right, so, drama which could mean good or bad things to the Cooper Household. We won’t know until that plays out.” I jerked my head back to indicate the walkway. “So, now, you want something that could only mean good things to the Cooper Household?”
Sam’s brows drew together.
“Baby, seriously? You’re askin’ that shit?”
I grinned and decided, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“After bad drama, good drama or uncertain drama, I’m all for learnin’ anything that means good things for the Cooper Household,” he pointed out the obvious making it clear he was irritated yet amused he was pointing out the obvious.
“Right then, I’m pregnant.”
Yes, that’s what I said and that’s how I said it. I just blurted it out.
Sam’s body froze solid and he simply stared at me.
I kept blurting.
“I know we haven’t been trying long,” and this was true, we’d been trying for six weeks but “trying” in Sam World meant he expended a lot of effort, not that I was complaining, “but either you have strong swimmers or my womb is exceptionally welcoming or both because the deed is done. I took three pregnancy tests then the doctor confirmed it. And, I will tell you now, if it’s not a boy, I’m gonna be pissed. I’m sure I’ll be happy with a girl if that’s what she is when she gets here. But right now, I want a boy you can teach how to play football and Memphis and I can sit on the deck and watch you two toss the ball around on the beach.”
Sam remained unmoving and staring at me.
I kept babbling.
“The one after this can be a girl,” I allowed.
Sam continued to stand there, immobile and staring at me.
“Hello, Sampson Cooper?” I called. “Your wife, Kia Cooper is talking to you.”
Sam moved then. He let me go, grabbed my hand and dragged me to the deck.
Then Sam stopped us both and shouted, “Yo! Attention!” Everyone, family, coaches, Skip and the boys who were not on the beach looked at Sam. And Sam, just like Sam, didn’t hesitate to share private news very publicly and he did this by announcing, “Kia’s havin’ my baby.”
“Ohmigod!” I heard Maris screech.
She could say that again.
Jeez, my husband.
“Oh, my sweet baby!” I heard Mom screech.
“Well, all right!” I heard Skip shout.
Dad just stared at me, head tipped to the side, mouth smiling, eyes dancing. Happy.
The boys and coaches hooted and clapped.
Sam let my hand go, curled an arm around my shoulders then he curled me into him and his other arm locked around me. I tipped my head back, smiling at him but when I saw his face, my smile died.
My husband was beautiful. My husband was gentle, protective and loving. My husband was funny but he thought I was funnier. My husband gave me everything.
And I returned the gesture.
But until that moment I didn’t realize I had more to give.
Nor did I know when I gave it, how he would feel.
But I knew looking in his eyes.
I knew it because I felt it in me.
We thought we already had heaven.
We didn’t.
Now we did.
Then he bent his head and kissed me, hard, wet, deep, thorough and long. He did it through more cheering, more hoots, some of his boys shouting lurid encouragement and a loud, ongoing ovation.
I didn’t really hear it.
Neither did he.
Yes, it was that good of a kiss.
Then again, with Sam, it always was.
No matter how many he gave me.
And I knew they always would be.
* * * * *
“Hey, did I wake you?” I whispered into the phone.
It was night, our guests were gone, the house was clean, our family members were in their beds, we had not heard word from Hap or Luci (which I decided meant good things but Sam refused to discuss it through the thirteen times I tried) and I was lying on Sam’s chest, Sam’s arms around me, my cell to my ear, Sam’s eyes on me.
“Yes, ma belle, but that’s okay. Is everything all right?” Celeste asked, sounding sleepy.
“Yes, I just… well, we told everyone today and you weren’t here and you’re part of the everyone who needs to know and I couldn’t wait until you were awake so, well…” I pulled in a breath. “Celeste, honey, I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
“Celeste?” I called.
More silence.
Then I heard a soft, delicate sob.
Yeesh. Only Celeste could make crying sound pretty.
Then I heard, “Kia?”
That was Thomas.
“Hey, Thomas, I’m sorry to wake you both. Is Celeste okay?”
“Not really, she’s crying in my arms. Are you okay?”
“Uh… yeah. I just told her Sam and I are going to have a baby.”
Again silence.
Oh man.
“Thomas?” I called.
“Give me a moment, my love,” he whispered, voice thick.
Oh man!
I looked to Sam as tears filled my eyes. His face got soft and arms gave me a squeeze.
I smiled at him then turned my head, rested my cheek on his chest and waited.
Finally, Thomas said quietly, “We’re happy for you Kia. You and Sam. Very happy.”
“Thank you, Thomas, we are too.”
Then Thomas asked, “What did I say?”
“Sorry?” I asked back.
“I would assume, at this very moment, you, my beautiful Kia, are content in the knowledge you’ve done very well and I would further assume your husband is not too far away and he’s feeling much the same thing, except, perhaps, more.”
I closed my eyes but the tears still escaped, wetting Sam’s skin. His hand slid up and cupped the back of my head as his other arm got tight and stayed that way.
That would be yes. Thomas assumed right.
I didn’t answer but I knew Thomas heard my probably not nearly as pretty sob.
And I knew this when he whispered, “Told you so.”
I sobbed louder.
Sam slid the phone from my hand; I wrapped my arm around him tight and listened to him murmur into my phone. Then I listened to him flip it shut. Then I heard it clatter on the nightstand.
Then both Sam’s arms were back around me, pulling me up his chest, he rolled me to my back, him on top and one hand went to my face to wipe away my tears.
“We have good friends,” I told him.
“Yeah we do,” Sam agreed, his eyes coming to mine then he whispered, “Wish Ben was here today.”
Tears filled my eyes again, my hand lifted to cup his cheek and I whispered back, “I do too.”
He kept going. “Gordo too.”
I nodded and swallowed.
Sam’s eyes held mine.
Then, still whispering, eyes intense, he said, “Love you, baby.”
He loved me. Me. All that was him loved all that was me.
“Love you, too, honey.”
I watched my husband smile.
Then I closed my eyes because he kissed me.
Then he made love to me.
And after, I fell asleep in the arms of a powerful man, content in the knowledge that I did very well…
And he did too.
* * * * *
Two and a half years later…
Coming home from his work managing the dining room in an exclusive hotel on Lago di Como, Paolo Garibaldi opened his postbox and saw the padded envelope inside.
He smiled. Then he grabbed it, hurried into his apartment building, up the stairs and through his door. He didn’t take his shoes off his aching feet. He didn’t pour himself a much needed glass of full-bodied, red Italian wine. He didn’t do anything he normally did.
He tore into the envelope.
He pulled out the piece of paper, unfolded it and saw, like always, she’d had her message translated.
He set that aside for later.
He was eager to see.
So he pulled out the item wrapped in bubble wrap deciding, as he always did, he would save the wrap. When they came to visit, his grandchildren loved popping those bubbles.
Carefully (so as not to pop too many of the bubbles), he tore the tape away. When he was done, he had the back facing him so he turned it to its front.
Then he smiled.
“Bellissimo. Sempre,” he whispered.
He allowed himself a moment to study it and he did this closely. Then he moved through his apartment to the shelf. Adjusting the items already on it to make room, he pulled out the arm and set his new piece at the end.
Then he stepped back and looked.
The first item was larger than the others. The frame silver and heavy. Sampson Cooper in his well-cut tuxedo, standing tall, strong and handsome on a beach, the waves of the ocean crashing in behind him as he held his brand new wife who was wearing a stunning (Italian designed and made, so of course it would be stunning), wedding gown. He was facing the camera full on and holding his new wife in both arms, her front tucked close to the side of his. The new Mrs. Cooper had her arms wrapped around her new husband’s middle and she was looking over her shoulder, the wind catching her magnificent hair, the skirt of her angelic gown, and she was beaming.
The next was a smaller frame, wooden but lovely, Sampson Cooper sitting upright in a hospital bed, his beautiful Kia in a hospital gown resting back against his chest, a tiny bundle held in her arms. Sampson looked happy and proud. Kia looked happy and tired. The baby just looked tiny.
Then next in another silver frame, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree in the background, a dark-headed baby on the floor in front of a heap of jumbled presents, in his jammies half-crawling, half-on his belly, being licked on his baby-laughing face by a little brown and white dog.
The next in a black lacquered frame, the photo black and white, Sampson Cooper walking down the side of an American football field. Held to his chest, sleeping head resting on his shoulder, was his little son. Held to his side, arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist, was his wife. There were boys in uniform and football pads in the background. Sampson was looking down at Kia, he was not smiling. His face seemed serious, intent but nevertheless content. Kia, head tipped way back, was looking at Sampson. She was smiling. She was also very, very pregnant.
And the last, the most recent, in another lovely wooden frame were Sampson and Kia Cooper standing in front of a white-painted wooden railing. The small dog was sitting by Sampson’s feet probably panting but looking like she was grinning. Sampson was wearing jeans and a shirt and holding a dark-headed toddler straddled to his hip in one arm. His other arm was around his wife’s shoulders, holding her close. Kia had one arm wrapped around her husband’s waist; her head was bent to the side, resting on his broad shoulder. She was wearing a sundress and her skin was tan. Her hair, again, was blowing in the wind. In her other arm she held another little bundle, closely and protectively. Except for the infant and the toddler, but, as noted, also the dog, they were all smiling, beautiful and big at the camera. The infant appeared to be sleeping. The toddler, Benjamin Travis, appeared to be laughing.
Paolo went to the letter.
It began (in Italian, of course),
Dearest Paolo,
Talia Celeste has arrived! And she’s perfect!
The perfetta was underlined. Twice.
Seeing it and reading one of Kia’s frequent letters, all the way through, Paolo smiled.
His wife, Talia, rest her soul, always told him he was a hopeless romantic.
This wasn’t a complaint. Her life was not long but he did his best to fill it with romance.
Then, when she was gone, he had to find other ways to act out these tendencies.
Sometimes, they didn’t work.
Paolo’s eyes went to the shelf and, again, he smiled.
And he smiled because, sometimes, they did.
Spectacularly.
He had never been to America; he didn’t know what North Carolina was like.
But from those pictures, it looked like heaven.
####
About the Author
Kristen Ashley lives in the beautiful West Country of England with her husband and her cat. She came to England by way of Denver, where she lived for twelve years, but she grew up in Brownsburg, Indiana. Her family and friends are loopy (to say the least) but loopy is good when you want to write.
Kristen’s Mom moved her and her brother and sister in with their grandparents when she was six. Her grandparents had a daughter much younger than her Mom so they all lived together on a very small farm in a small farm town in the heartland. She grew up with Glenn Miller, The Everly Brothers, REO Speedwagon and Whitesnake (and the wardrobes that matched). Needless to say, growing up in a house full of music, clothes and love was a good way to grow up.
And as she keeps growing up, it keeps getting better.
Discover other Titles by Kristen Ashley at
Rock Chick Series:
Rock Chick
Rock Chick Rescue
Rock Chick Redemption
Rock Chick Renegade
Rock Chick Revenge
Rock Chick Reckoning
Rock Chick Regret
The ‘Burg Series:
For You
At Peace
Golden Trail
The Colorado Mountain Series:
The Gamble
Sweet Dreams
Lady Luck
Dream Man Series:
Mystery Man
Wild Man
The Fantasyland Series:
Wildest Dreams
The Golden Dynasty
Fantastical
Other Titles by Kristen Ashley:
Fairytale Come Alive
Lacybourne Manor
Mathilda, SuperWitch
Penmort Castle
Sommersgate House
Three Wishes
Connect with Kristen Online:
Official Website:
Kristen’s Blog:
Follow Kristen on Twitter: KristenAshley68
Cover Photo and Art by DM Ashley