Epilogue
Six months later
The vast cathedral was packed with sports stars, singers and other celebs all dotted amongst a huge host of family and friends. The congregation sat in their finery watching Mae French and John “Wolf” Jones swap expensive glittering rings and promise to cherish each other for all of time.
In a navy trouser suit and with a feathered fascinator poking from my hair, I sat and let the timeless words fill my heart and my soul. Brick was on my right, his hand curled around mine and looking amazing in silver-gray Armani. Brooke sat on my left, Phoenix had his arm draped around his wife’s shoulders as she fiddled with her own wedding ring and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest finally announced with a flamboyant flick of his wrist.
The happy couple kissed, long, deep and lovingly and not at all appropriately for a place of worship. The crowd erupted in cheers. A choir sprang to life, singing one of Mae’s latest songs and a host of prettily dressed bridesmaids blew rainbow bubbles from small white pots as they walked back up the aisle.
“You okay?” Brick asked as we wandered into the bright sunshine behind the happy couple.
“Yes, fine.”
“Not sore?” He slid on his Ray-Bans and rested his palm in the small of my back.
“A little stiff, but that’s to be expected.”
He rubbed his hand up to my shoulder and then back down again. The previous day I’d defended my U.S. endurance title and brought home the medal, again. It had been hard, harder than ever with a body that was only just at peak fitness and a wrist that had been weakened, but I’d done it and I couldn’t complain about a few sore muscles.
“I’ll give you a total-body rubdown later,” Brick whispered in my ear. “If you think that would help.”
“It would definitely help,” I said, tipping my cheek for the kiss he was sending down.
I glanced over and saw Ramrod, who had the role of best man, chatting to a petite girl with amazing long curls of black hair. She had a pouting ruby mouth and a clipboard squeezed against her voluptuous chest. Ramrod had a sparkle in his eye that I recognized only too well. He liked her and something told me she had better watch out.
“You’d look good like that,” Brick said.
“Like what?” I looked up at him with a frown. Did he want me to curl my poker-straight hair to look like a lush waterfall?
“Like that.” He nodded at Mae posing for photos, her arm linked with Wolf’s and a giant bunch of lilies in her hand.
“What do you mean?”
Brick swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “In white.”
“White?”
“Yeah, in a long white dress, walking down an aisle.” He swallowed, lifted his shades to the top of his head and captured my gaze. “Walking down an aisle, toward me.”
“Is that a proposal?”
One side of his mouth tilted and he shoved his hand around the freshly cut hair at the base of his neck. “What would you say if it was, honey?”
“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” I grinned and tried to look cool even though inside I was erupting like a volcano. Marriage? He’d never mentioned it before but that wasn’t to say it hadn’t been on my mind as we’d gotten closer over the last few months.
He grabbed me suddenly and dragged me up against his hot, hard body. I let out a gasp and put my hands on his chest.
He simply grinned at my shocked expression and took four big steps around the back of a sweetly scented acacia bush to duck us out of view. “Then I’m asking,” he said down to my stunned face. “Carly Flannigan, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
I gazed into his eyes. The world stopped spinning. Everyone else on the planet ceased to exist.
There was only one possible answer.
“Yes.”
The next thing I knew, he was kissing me in that special way, stroking and caressing me with his tongue and his lips. And in that moment I knew I had the ultimate prize. Brick, my gorgeous, sweet, caring and accepting Brick, was going to be my husband, and I knew full well he was going to be so much more fun to play with for all eternity than a cabinet full of gold medals.
THE END