Epilogue
October
Sal and Enzo’s pizza kitchen had been built to handle speed and efficiency, but even those seasoned pros were having a tricky time keeping up with the staggering number of orders flying at them from the packed restaurant.
Not that Marisa doubted their prowess—she didn’t have a death wish or a desire to find a new apartment—but she’d also never seen the place so stuffed to the gills.
And though celebrating the start of the Rugby Sevens season at the pizzeria was her idea, she wasn’t exactly thrilled she had to get in line for her standard white cheese and broccoli slice.
At least she’d had the foresight to go back to hiding her full-sugar Dr. Browns from the customers. Marisa shuddered. She didn’t know what she’d do if she had to settle for the diet stuff.
Above the drink fridges, a large television was positioned at the optimal viewing angle, and everything was set for show time . . . Well, except for Eden angling her phone beneath the TV, trying to capture the QR code on the screen so they could log into Global Sports Matrix’s streaming app.
“Multifactor authentication can suck it. That’s all I’m going to say.” Eden finally lined up the code within the shaky colored lines on her screen and plugged in the info it asked for.
“You know what sucks worse than multifactor authentication? Identity theft.” Marisa swiped a garlic knot from her previously secured stash and offered it up to her friend in dutiful commiseration.
With Eden’s thumbs engaged in careful tapping, she kept her eyes on the screen as she leaned her mouth over to the proffered knot to take a bite.
“Joke’s on them. I’ve got about a buck fifty in my checking account, a good twenty grand left in student loans, and an old Payless Shoes charge card I opened freshman year of college.
Pretty sure I’m not worth the effort, but who am I to judge someone’s career choices?
Yes, got it! Finally.” Eden took the rest of her knot as payment for her accomplishment, grabbed a few sodas from the fridge, and plunked them down on the table where Sid, Captain, and Manic were deeply engaged in the tiny screen before them.
Manic scratched the buzzed side of his head, careful not to mess up his mohawk, and squinted at the video footage of Alec’s final match with Great Britain he’d played back in May. “So, they’re not called touchdowns or goals. They’re called tries.”
“Correct,” Marisa said.
Sid bit into his Sicilian slice. “And when they kick a field goal—”
“Conversion.”
“Right, when they go for a conversion, it’s how many points?”
“Five for the initial try, and two points for the conversion. Each chance at scoring gives them the opportunity to earn seven points total.”
Captain shook his head, his long braid swinging dangerously close to the toddler’s eager grasp in the high chair next to him. “They do all of this without passing the ball forward? Like, at all?”
“Yup. They can only throw it to a teammate who’s behind them.”
“With no gear,” Sid reminded all of them.
“They’re wearing mouth guards, but otherwise, nope.”
“Man,” Captain grumbled, “and I thought prison was tough.”
Their admiration was easy to love, especially when their eyes filled with wonder as they watched a replay of Alec flying through the air with the ball out in front of him and landing on his stomach to score the final try of the game and the final try of his on-pitch career.
The conversion, however, and the glory of earning the two points that would secure Great Britain the win, he left to another teammate.
That had been her favorite part. Up until now, at least. In a few minutes, they’d be able to see Alec’s first on-air interview as the Chief Rugby Sevens Analyst for Global Sports Matrix.
The match wasn’t happening for another hour, and that was just fine.
That meant she got to watch Alec, decked out in an underwear-scorching suit, lean into the role he’d been working so hard to prepare for over the past few months.
With a slate of player interviews and coaching questions, some of them prerecorded, he’d quickly found his stride in storytelling.
It made her heart squeeze all over again at how much she loved that man.
“Mom, can I go up and get more gummies?” Next to the toddler, who was again thwarted from nabbing Captain’s braid, the older brother was popping a final fistful of candies into his mouth and looking forlorn down at his empty napkin.
“Sure thing, honey. Here, buy another bag for all of us, will you?” The mother handed the kid some cash and gasped when her daughter’s chubby fingers found their mark on Captain’s braid. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Ellie, no!”
“It’s fine,” he said, making silly eyes at the young one, which made her kick her feet in hysterics. “I’ve got sisters. I’m used to hair pulling.”
Marisa took a pull on her soda and leaned into the exuberant joy expanding her rib cage as she took in the sight at the counter, one she still hadn’t entirely gotten used to.
The boy handed Sal the money and excitedly grabbed another bag of Sweetest Heart’s Desire’s Rugby Try Treats out of the tabletop display.
It had taken her a solid three months to get the shaping right, but once she had it, the method had been easy enough to adapt to some of the other offerings she was putting together for the arena.
Her cheeks pinched the tighter her smile got as the boy rooted around in the bag of fruit-and-cream-swirled rugby-ball-shaped gummies. When his fingers came free with the watermelon ones, she quietly gave her nod of approval.
Watermelon was a sleeper flavor and a personal favorite of hers and Veronica’s as well.
Alec had been the odd one out in the flavor favorites department. Apparently, whatever seasonal-treat damage Marisa had done had stuck around for the rest of the year. The man still preferred blueberry.
And she loved him for it.
“Oh, it’s starting!” Eden bumped up the volume as high as it would go, and the entire restaurant’s customer base set their heads on swivels toward the screen.
Except for Marisa. She’d chosen to stand near the counter, with her shoulders supported by plexiglass and her line of sight unobstructed and pinned perfectly to the man who had filled out the frame with no shortage of Scottish charisma or, as the women around her pointed out with tittering appreciation, his resonant brogue.
She successfully managed to make it through the first two ten-minute interviews before she had to grab some gummies and shove them in her mouth lest she start finger-whistling her approval for how amazing he was doing.
Hold it together, Marisa. Hold it together . . .
“Here.” Eden handed her a basket of freshly fried zucchini sticks and warm marinara sauce. “They count as a veggie. I checked.”
“Thanks.” Marisa began to nibble on her molten-hot sustenance, grateful to her friend for recognizing the imminent waterworks and stopping the flow before she made a complete— “Where did you get that hat?”
“It’s a sample I was working on for your new logo, and I wanted to see what it would look like on some merch. Do you like it?” Eden modeled the baby-shit-green trucker hat that made the business’s swirling heart logo look like something the CDC should issue warnings for.
“It’s hideous.”
“Okay, but what do you think of it in mustard yellow?” Like some tricky magician, she quickly swapped out hats, her excited smile anticipating a reaction that not even Marisa, with all her previously earned experience on the lying circuit, could pull off in good faith.
That was when, to Marisa’s horror, an entire box of colored cap monstrosities poked out from beneath the table next to Eden.
“I think . . .” Then her heart softened as Alec’s voice pulled her attention back to the TV screen. “I think we’ve got some fun choices to make.”
And that thought alone? Man, it was a keeper.
With her business not only having its legs solidly under it but running the equivalent of at least several respectable 5Ks, and having Alec by her side forging a foundation for his new career, her life had become nothing short of a firehose of happiness.
So, yeah, she’d gladly take shitty hat options any day of the week and couldn’t wait for more weird and wonderful fun.
Alec smiled at the camera, his eyes twinkling beneath the studio’s lights as he answered his co-host’s question about match strategy.
“I hope the lads on the pitch today all go out and make the right choices one after another. That’s all it takes for the game to flow and for each team to find their footing early.
If they can do that, they’ll only have the best of choices in front of them from then on out.
Should make for a good match-up. I’m excited to see what they can all pull off.
Some real top talent out there, for sure. ”
Alec held his confidence and smiled a beat longer so the camera could soak it all in, but the way the scarred side of his mouth rose almost imperceptibly higher than the other side was all for Marisa.
Their secret signal. A quiet nod that spoke of exciting futures and thrilling promises.
All sweet choices they would make together.
Not quite ready to say goodbye to Marisa and Alec just yet?