Epilogue
One and a Half Years Later
Beau & Camille
When Camille exited the plane and walked through the departure gate at Denver International Airport, she only needed a second to pick Beau out from the waiting crowd—but then, with his tall and broad frame, he towered over everyone around.
That was just one of the many deeply satisfying niceties about dating a professional athlete.
Camille hurried to her fiance and threw her arms around his neck. He scooped her up in his arms and brought her lips to his.
It'd been three weeks since they'd seen each other last. In their first few months of dating, getting to see each other every three weeks would've been a luxury. But as their bond deepened and grew, and their visits grew more frequent, their tolerance to time spent apart quickly began to diminish.
These days? Three weeks apart was a special kind of hell. Phone calls and video chats were great, but neither could replace being right there with your lover, being able to touch and smell and taste them. In some ways, all that technology seemed a bit of a tease, and only made Beau and Camille miss each other worse.
“Hi Beau!” she said once they finally managed to pry themselves apart from each other.
“Hey babe. How was the flight?”
“Fine.” She paused as her face lit with ecstasy. “So glad I won't be needing it anymore.”
Beau returned a smile that was every bit as happy. “Me too.”
He lifted her suitcase from the baggage carousel easily. For Camille, it'd been a struggle to get the cumbersome thing from her apartment, to the subway, to an airport shuttle, and then lug it around LaGuardia … But Beau threw the suitcase around as if it were lighter than air.
Hand in hand, they started walking to Beau's car. Camille loved the way her hand disappeared totally in his firm grip; how his giant paw just swallowed her comparatively tiny hand right up.
As they walked, a passerby spotted Beau and said his name: “Beau Bradford.”
Beau, donning his usual disguise—ball cap and sunglasses—nodded back at the fan.
These days, the disguise was almost a necessity when Beau went out into the public with Camille. In the span of a year, Beau had managed to turn his on-ice reputation completely around. He didn't wear the 'pest' label anymore; now he was a 'goal-scoring power-forward.' And once the Blizzard team executives were convinced that Beau's shift was real and permanent, they happily began marketing him as one of the faces of the franchise. His handsome mug adorned billboards, fliers, and bus ads all over the city.
“How was practice, Mr. Famous?” Camille asked.
“Practice was fine, babe,” he answered. His smile spread, and she knew he had something on his mind.
“You're awfully smiley,” she said, poking a playful finger into his abs.
“Yeah, well, I figured you'd be upset if I wasn't pretending to be happy.” He wiped the smile right off his face and turned to her, looking stone-cold and grave. “See this face? This is how I actually feel about you coming to live with me.”
With a smile, she landed an upper-cut into his gut. “Dick.”
… But she knew perfectly well he was kidding.
It was Beau, after all, who relentlessly campaigned for more visits to Denver and practically pulled Camille away from working at her bakery 24/7. (And thank God for that, she'd say to herself, because she knew she could've easily spent her whole life tirelessly working otherwise.)
It was Beau who proposed on their one year anniversary, too.
And after she excitedly shouted yes!, it was Beau who didn't miss a beat and started asking when, exactly, she planned to move to Denver so they could live together and start planning their lives together as husband and wife.
Not that Camille was just going with the flow; she was just as crazy about Beau as he was about her. It also helped that the time she spent visiting Beau in Denver always made her feel she transformed from 'small-time business owner trying to eke out a living in a stressful, crowded city,' to 'Denver royalty living a fantasy life in the lovely mountains.'
Beau always lavished her with gifts, took her out dining to the fanciest restaurants, took her traveling whenever his schedule allowed. They enjoyed a jam-packed, jet-set life together. In some ways, Camille didn't feel like she deserved it; she felt like she should be working on her own business instead of enjoying the fruits of Beau's sporting fame. But she learned to temper that inner voice and let herself enjoy the various ways Beau wanted to spoil her, without feeling guilty, without freaking over the day-to-day stressors of owning a business.
Because hey: Beau had changed a lot for her. It was only fair that she should work on herself, too. Learn to live a little, learn to enjoy what she had.
And so, when a Manhattan ownership group emerged from the blue and offered Camille and Piper a jaw-dropping sum for their popular and now wildly successful vegan bakery? The two girls agreed to live a little and sell.
Camille also found the challenge tempting: could she open a vegan restaurant in Denver and catch lightning in a bottle twice?
“Seriously though, why are you smiling so much? What are you hiding?” she asked Beau.
“I'm happy! This is a big day in our lives, Cammy. It's finally happened.”
She pressed herself into his side. “Aw. I'm so happy too, Beau.”
… But still, she knew he was hiding something.
They found his Range Rover parked just outside the airport. They hopped in and drove off. Later, on the highway, Beau missed his usual exit.
“Dude!” Camille yelled. “You missed your exit!”
“I did …? Damn it, I did, didn't I?” Beau said, pounding his fist on the steering wheel in a fashion that struck Camille as far too theatrical to be genuine.
Camille narrowed her eyes. Now I know he's up to something.
The next exit came, but sure enough, Beau didn't pull off there, either.
“Where are we going, Beau?”
“We're almost there,” he said with a grin.
A little while later, he pulled off the highway and they were soon rolling down the wide, leafy streets of Denver's Hilltop neighborhood.
“Beau …?” Camille asked nervously, drawing the vowels of his name out.
Surely he wouldn't do this to her, right? He knew how much she loved that house they looked at on a whim. The majestic red-brick house, with the lush sprawling green acres that were hidden by the soaring cottonwood, oak and sweetgum trees.
He had to know how much he was getting her hopes up right now.
Beau smiled coyly, playing perfectly dumb. “Huh? What's up, babe?”
“Beau …!” She shot her hand into his lap and clamped tightly on to his thigh.
Her hopes were definitely up now as the house neared on their right.
Sure enough, Beau flicked on his signal and turned the car into the driveway.
He shut the engine off, looked at her, and said, “Welcome home, babe.”
“Beau!” she squealed, rabid excitement pounding in her veins. “You did not buy this house!”
Beau loved moments like these; to see the look on her face. Truly, he lived for these moments.
He passed her a key on a ring. “In fact, I did buy this house.”
“Oh my God!” Camille jumped out of the car and raced to the front door.
Beau gathered her suitcase from the back of the Range Rover and leisurely walked through the front door she'd excitedly left wide-open.
Beau felt like a man on top of the world as he walked in, dropped the bag at his side and surveyed their new house, their new life together. He couldn't imagine a better way to welcome her than to give her the house she'd always wanted.
Now, with Camille by his side, he could really dedicate himself to being the hockey player, the lover, the man he was always meant to be.
Camille's footsteps came running over the hardwood floor, screaming, “I love it I love it I love it!”
She jumped into his arms and kissed him.
“Yeah?” Beau laughed, struggling for air as she mashed her lips into his. “We're going to have to go shopping for some furniture. I got everything from the condo moved in already, but damn, looking around … this place is empty.”
“I will gladly help with that.”
“I'm sure you will,” Beau laughed.
Camille grabbed his hand and began to lead him down the hall.
He chuckled. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the bedroom. Obviously.”
“Ooh.”
She pushed Beau into the king-sized mattress, hurriedly began to take off his belt and jeans, when his large hands wrapped around her wrist and stopped her.
She peeked up at him. Of course she'd wanted to give him a blowjob and show him how thankful she was—it was the least she could do!
“Huh?” she mumbled. “But I wanted to suck your dick—”
Beau shushed her by picking her right off the ground. In one quick motion, he whipped around and threw her into the mattress instead. His massive hands swiped at her clothes, tearing her shirt and jeans and panties clean off her body like a twister razing the land.
“It's been three goddamn weeks and I cannot wait any longer. I need to taste you, babe.”
Old rival turned future husband, Beau Bradford grabbed Camille by the thighs, spread her, and set his big, soft tongue at her folds and began to expertly lick away, as he loved to do.
“Oooh, Beau! Fuck, I love you so much …”
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