Page 57 of The Brooklyn Way

Their reception took place in Cameron’s backyard. When I had told Cameron that their birthday party was a dry run for the wedding, I thought I was joking. Well, the gag was on me, because Carrington not only duplicated the fanciness of the birthday party, she had upped the glam quotient exponentially. What that team of vendors had done to completely transform Cameron’s backyard into a luxury beach resort was nothing less than astounding. They were tents, flower arrangements that were taller than Cameron, seating vignettes, lounging vignettes, huge potted plants and views of the water that took your breath away.

The DJ played laid-back neo soul and R&B during dinner that allowed for conversation. And the dinner was a gourmet masterpiece. Carrington’s menu featured local seafood—crab cakes, grilled red snapper, jerked shrimp cocktail—short-rib sliders, caprese kabobs, barbecued chicken, lobster mac-n-cheese shooters, mixed baby greens, and scallops in a lemon butter sauce.

After dinner, the music went low, and the speeches began. Several people gave speeches from both Carrington’s and Bryce’s side, but there was only one I was waiting to hear. Cameron was nervous about his speech which I thought that was cute. He wanted to make sure that he touched on how much having her as his twin meant to him but also how happy he was for her that she had found love.

His speech was so touching that I spent half of it distractedly rummaging around in my purse to find tissue to dab at my eyes.

“And so,” he continued, looking directly at me, “when you find the person who makes you take a second look, maybe even after you seen them a thousand times; when you find the person who causes you to find excitement in something that’s typically mundane, like… rainstorms; the person that you can do the same thing with one hundred times over and never get bored, like watching the sunset; the person who makes colors seem brighter and soft seem softer, you have to be wise enough to snatch them up and lock them down. Congratulations, Bryce and Carrington, for doing just that. Cheers.”

I was basically ugly-crying by the time Cameron finished his toast. I slipped out of my chair at the table and went to find him.

I finally located him standing at the end of his driveway, at the front of the big house, away from the activity and commotion of the reception.

Even though I was wearing four-inch heels, I ran to him. I threw my arms around his neck. “I love you.”

He chuckled lightly. “I love you, too. I love you so fucking much. When did that happen?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not complaining. I can’t believe that toast.”

“Me either. That wasn’t even what I wrote down. It’s just what came out. You make everything different, Brooklyn. You make it better. Things seemed cool. My life seemed cool… Then there was you, and I realized that it wasn’t as cool as it seemed. You fill in blanks that I didn’t even know needed filling.”

“Same.” I looked into his face—took in his caramel-colored skin, his large dark eyes, his rounded nose, his sculpted cheekbones, and his full, kissable mouth. His ears were small, his eyebrows were full and naturally contoured. His goatee was neat, the hair on his head was cut close to the scalp and more than anything, I wanted a house filled with sons who looked just like him. “I just want to be with you, Cameron. And if I have to move to Chicago, I’ll do that. Not because I feel like I have to. I’ll move to Chicago because I’ve lost a lot in life. I lost my parents. I know that ‘tomorrow is not promised’ is more than a cliché. I know it’s a real statement. I don’t want to waste time denying myself the opportunity to be with you-- to be around you. I want you to come home to me and me to come home to you. Jackson Island isn’t the only place on earth I can be happy. Besides, we can spend every summer here.”

“We definitely can,” he agreed, placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“You make me feel less alone and I was beating myself up about that. I was acting like it was a character flaw to want to feel less alone. It’s not a flaw, it’s human. It’s okay to let myself be human.”

“Shit, I encourage it. Be human, baby. Tell me when you feel alone and when you need attention. I’ll make sure to get all up in your space and provide it.”

I buried my face in his upper stomach region. “I’m so glad you finally recognized me this time, because if you had told me that it was nice to meet me one more time, I was gonna—”

“Stop bringing up old shit.”

Epilogue

Cameron

Eight Months Later

The season of rebuilding for The Chicago Bison had been just that—a season where we worked to figure out how to best use new players, how to pivot veteran players into new roles and how to win. We were successful in our endeavors, but not successful enough to make it past the second round in the Eastern Conference Playoffs.

Any other year not making it past St. Louis would’ve messed with my head and had me living in the gym, working on nothing but fundamentals for hours at a time. This year, though, I was bothered… but not really. Not having the demand of giving my everything to The Bison meant that I could give my everything to Brooklyn. And I loved giving her my everything.

I shot an easy lay-up, then rebounded my own ball. I threw up another when I heard the distinct sound of high heels clicking on the hardwoods of the gymnasium at the community center. After grabbing the ball, I looked up and saw my wife walking toward me. She was wearing the yellow tiered sundress that she referred to as her “good luck dress” and a grin. I couldn’t help returning the grin. Brooklyn was fine as hell to me… and the way that dress skimmed each and every one of her curves made me want to take her in my office and strip that dress off of her.

She kicked off her high heels by the bleachers and joined me at center court in her bare feet. Before even speaking to me, she reached out and slapped the ball in an attempt to knock it out of my hands. I doubled over in laughter at her attempt, because I was a professional baller. It took way more than a little swat for me to lose possession of the rock.

“You gotta try harder than that,” I teased, still grinning at her.

“Give me the ball and D up, twin.”

My eyes widened, and my eyebrows lifted. This wasn’t the first time that she’d challenged me to play one-on-one, but the aggression in her voice was new. I palmed the ball and lifted it into the air. At six feet seven inches, I had more than a foot of height advantage over her and my wingspan was crazy. She would’ve needed a ladder to reach the ball when I held it up like that. “Make me,” I told her.

She smirked before burying her small hands in my shorts, cupping my dick and causing me to buckle. The crazy thing was that I knew she was going to do that. That was Brooklyn’s go-to move when I held something out of her reach. It still affected me even though I knew it was coming. It didn’t cause me to drop the ball, though. I just reached out and squeezed her right titty.

“Cameron!”

“You grabbed my dick first,” I reminded her, dropping the ball and embracing her with both arms. “Happy four month anniversary, Mrs. Field.” I nuzzled her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses there.

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