Page 118 of A Wild Card Kiss
“Told you the pink sparkly sweatshirt was the way to go,” Emerson says with a wink as I walk in wearing a simple white dress.
The sneak.
She’d packed the dress and handed it to me when we returned to the hotel to shuck off my game clothes so I could put onthis.
Now, she’s holding a bouquet of tiger lilies. “And these.”
I clutch them close to my heart, then walk down the aisle and pledge to love Harlan Taylor for the rest of my life.
When the justice of the peace turns to the groom, decked out in one of his tailored suits, and asks if he’ll love, cherish, and honor me for the rest of his days, he says, so easily, so happily, “I do.”
He says it with love and passion and trust.
That’s all I could ever want.
Epilogue
Harlan
More Than A Year Later
I whip up eggs for my wife. Brew her some coffee. Slice her a peach. Set the goodies on the breakfast plate as she nurses the baby.
What a sight.
Katie looks so good as a mom. Who would have thought?
Well, this guy.
Katie looks good doing pretty much everything.
And she’s aces at doing most stuff, too, so she’s mastered parenting already.
“Look at you. Such a pro in no time,” I say when the baby finishes, and Katie burps her on her shoulder.
“Yes, sign me up for five more,” she quips as she pats our daughter’s back.
“Don’t tempt me,” I say drily, then set the plate in front of her.“Gimme Mia. I need some snuggles.” I make grabby hands, and Katie gives me the baby.
Our five-month-old makes the sweetest sigh as I hold her close. “There. Wasn’t that delicious?” I glance at Katie, nodding to her plate. “Now, eat your breakfast, sweetheart. You have a busy day teaching those ballplayers downward dog. Bet they’re not as fun as football players.”
“Of course they aren’t.” She takes a bite of the eggs. Once she swallows, she holds up her fork to make a point. “But I’m also not in love with any of them.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way.”
“I will,” she says as the rush of Converse-clad feet echoes from upstairs.
“No running indoors, Abby,” I call out.
The sound slows. “Sorry. Just getting ready.”
“Well don’t run the forty-yard dash.”
“She’s excited for school today,” Katie says as she clears her plate. “She and Audrey and Gabriella and Caroline are doing a presentation on why gymnastics rocks. She practiced it with me last night. It’s about three PowerPoint slides long, and it’s awesome.”
I smile. “That does sound awesome. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
Once Katie sets the plate in the dishwasher, she moves behind me, plants a soft kiss on my hair, then scurries upstairs to our room to get ready to teach yoga to the San Francisco Dragons.
