Epilogue
“I don’t know why you insisted on playing again tonight,” Kenna griped, as she dabbed at Smith’s bleeding lip with a gauze pad. “Ten goals conceded and now this. You could’ve lost a tooth.”
“The bigger mystery is why they keep letting him play,” Tina piped up from beside Kenna, and Smith angled his sister a wounded look.
“That’s downright mean,” he protested. “Why wouldn’t they let me play? All players are welcome, remember?”
“I know these guys are used to losing, but they always lose so much harder when you grace them with your skills every time you guys visit.”
“And I think at this point, Lindiwe is pretty much using your face as target practice,” Kenna groused, slanting a baleful glare at the teen’s back.
Smith grinned and sat down next to her, his hand loosely draped across one of her knees. This was his third retirement due to injury in four games. Not that he minded too much, because it meant he got to spend the remainder of the game with his wife.
They visited Riversend every two or three months for a weekend. They both looked forward to the trip and, despite their busy schedules, had never once postponed or canceled.
Kenna’s palm came to rest over the back of his hand and he turned it over to entwine his fingers with hers. She dropped her head on his shoulder and they watched as once again the Riversend Rovers—Spencer’s bright idea—were soundly trounced by the junior team.
Smith glanced down at his beautiful wife, and smiled when her free hand dropped to her abdomen absently. They had a secret which they had not yet divulged to their families. A secret that—for now—was theirs alone to enjoy.
His hands tightened around hers and she smiled contentedly.
A roar went up in the crowd and Smith lifted his head to see what the fuss was about.
Then chuckled.
Lukhanyo was at it again. The kid was irrepressible. He’d never quite matched the viral success of his first kiss cam upload of Smith and Kenna. But he kept trying. He apparently did not subscribe to the notion that lighting doesn’t strike twice in the same place.
Kenna lifted her head from Smith’s shoulder with a wry grin.
And as the very small crowd of tens chanted kiss kiss kiss, Smith lowered his head.
“Gotta give the crowd what they want,” he muttered.
“What a burden,” she giggled.
“I love you so fucking much, Kenna.”
“And I adore you, Smith.”
They kissed.