EPILOGUE
PAIGE
Loud cheers erupted as soon as Oliver pressed his lips to Shannon.
The minister had just pronounced them man and wife, and they kissed. He held her flushed to him, bending over and tipping her back. Oliver kissed Shannon like it was the best damn kiss of his life and he ended it to another loud round of hoots and hollers.
I stood to the side as a bridesmaid, Shannon’s best friend from Iowa, Melissa was her maid of honor. She grinned at me and I laughed, shaking my head while they continued practically having sex with each other on the small stage they’d constructed on their property for their wedding.
Finally, Oliver pulled back, and he spun Shannon to the crowd and they raised their hands in the air.
Music blared, escorting them down the aisle, and I quickly followed Melissa. She took Danny Rudolph’s arm, Oliver’s best man, and I waited for Beaux to reach me.
When he did, he kissed my cheek and whispered, “Our wedding kiss will be better than that.”
I playfully slapped his arm. “Too bad we don’t have much time to practice.”
He’d just proposed last week.
“We don’t need practice. We already are perfect.”
He was absolutely right.
Beaux walked me down the aisle, and we headed straight for the dance floor and reception area set up at the back of Oliver and Shannon’s house. Bethany Carlson was there with her band. A famous country singer, she was also a good friend of Oliver’s and now Shannon’s. She’d volunteered to provide entertainment for the night as her wedding gift to them.
There was also a full bar, an enormous catered buffet of seafood and steak and more piles of meat and vegetables than I’d ever seen anywhere, but most of the team was in attendance and those guys ate.
Six weeks ago, the Rough Riders won their second Super Bowl in a row, filling the new stadium in Minnesota while they took on the Green Bay Packers.
Beaux had said it held an extra special moment of love for him since he’d started his NFL Career in Minnesota.
After the parade Raleigh had for the team and the media craze died down, we immediately went on a two-week long vacation to Fiji.
We were going back next month for our wedding. My dad, Melanie, Mike, Shannon, and Oliver were going to be our only guests.
It was an easy decision. My dad’s broken leg had long since healed and over the last several months, he’d regained even more movement in his right side. He used a walker or a cane now, his wheelchair rarely pulled out of the corner. He spent his nights playing poker at the clubhouse and while he couldn’t golf, he’d go out with a group of a guys and drive the golf cart. He came to the garage occasionally and hung out when Mike or I would bring him. He always had company and had made dozens of new friends.
We ate together at least once a week, usually at our house. When Beaux traveled, I went to Dad’s place and watched his game in the clubhouse. Most of the men and many of their wives would join us for a potluck dinner while we screamed and shouted and cheered at the ninety-seven inch projector screen television.
Melanie was no longer his nurse, but instead, she’d become my best friend, and we got together at least once a week for dinner or lunch.
Our lives were settling. The pain of my accident and Hannah was a memory neither of us talked about much. She was laid to rest days after the accident, and when I knew that was happening, I’d cried in Beaux’s arms, falling apart in our living room, so damn thankful I was okay, that Beaux and I were together, but so utterly devastated at everything that had happened. It was the last time I cried over it, but when I continued having nightmares for weeks, Melanie talked me into seeing a therapist.
That had helped, and after a few months, the nightmares went away and so did my therapist.
By the time the Super Bowl came around, Beaux and I were more in love, my dad was happy, and I had absolutely everything I could have ever wanted.
Life was perfect.
Or it would be in four weeks when we flew to Fiji and exchanged our own vows.
Overall, I couldn’t complain. Had nothing to complain about.
So, I let Beaux sweep me into his arms, pull me onto the dance floor.
We celebrated the entire night with our family of football players and their wives or girlfriends.
I drank champagne with my new sister-in-law and brother-in-law.
We laughed.
We partied.
And when we went to bed that night, after making me come three times, Beaux pulled me into his arms.
I threw my leg over his like I always did and rested my head on his shoulder, my arm draped over his stomach.
Playing with his thin trail of hair beneath his belly button, I kissed his chest.
“I love you, Beaux. You’ve given me more than anything I ever wanted, ever dreamed possible.”
“Jesus,” he gasped and tightened his hold around my back. “I love you too, Paige.”
“There’s just one more thing I want from you,” I said, still kissing him and sliding my hand down.
He was already hard and I wrapped my hand around him, sliding up and down his shaft.
“Shit,” he gasped. “What is it?”
I tilted my head up. “I want a baby, a boy with your blue—”
It was all I got out before I was tossed to my back, and he was on top of me. He kissed me, stealing my words.
“Tomorrow you go off the pill. We start trying right away.” He pressed the tip of him to my center and slid inside.
I kissed his throat as he began moving. “I threw them away tonight,” I admitted.
Beaux would give me anything I ever wanted, and I had no doubt when I knew we were ready to have kids, he’d want to start trying as soon as possible.
“You’re crazy,” he said, laughing and kissing me. “And I fucking love you.”
“Fucking love me? Or love fucking me.”
“Yes.”
I laughed and pressed my mouth to his. “I love you too. Forever.”
We moved, joined together, touching everywhere. His hands clasped around mine and he held me down, pinned me in place, and as we made love, both of us crying out our climaxes at the same time, I’d never felt so utterly, completely, free.