Page 79 of A Game of Ruck
I built my life from the ground up.
I chose the name Warden for a reason.
What I make playing rugby is pennies compared to what I made investing in Mitchell Knight’s startup.
My financial portfolio’s in killer shape—I’ve got accounts with numbers that start with a digit and end with eight zeroes.
But dollar signs mean zilch to me.
She is my future.
My everything.
After the ceremony, the guys soak me with Gatorade, just like they promised.
We all laugh as we eat enough food to fuel a whole season—Marco had it catered by some swanky new restaurant, of course—and finally, finally after god knows how many bad speeches and well wishes, I get to take my wife home.
Home.
Freshly showered after five minutes in the locker room, and still riding the high of the day, I scoop her into my arms outside our brand new house.
It’s right next to the Carolina Rovers’ new stadium site in Consequence.Something I did in the week we’ve been apart.
The area is still pretty much under construction, but our place is move-in ready.
Stone facade, big porch, backyard built for dogs and kids and lazy Sunday mornings.
“You’re gonna get me used to this if you keep picking me up everywhere,” she murmurs, laughter dancing in her eyes as I carry her over the threshold.
“Oh, I plan on getting you used to a lot of things, Mrs.Warden,” I growl, setting her down gently and letting my hands slide over her waist.
Her new last name sounds like a prayer on my lips.
“Ooh, I like how that sounds,” she teases.
“Not as much as I do.Come here.”
I pull her into my arms and kiss her like she’s oxygen and I’ve been drowning all day without her.
Because tonight is our wedding night.
And I plan to make it unforgettable.
With a sigh, Annabeth breaks our kiss.Her big brown eyes flash to mine and she takes off running with a squeal.
It takes me a second, but I give chase.
“Where you going, Wifey?”
Her laugh is still echoing off the hallway walls when I follow her and kick our bedroom door closed behind us.
Our bedroom.
Ours.Not a hotel suite.Not a borrowed fantasy.
This is real.
She’s mine.
