Epilogue
THE DIMPLE AND THE DISPOSITION
Nate
February
One minute and thirty seconds left.
“Here’s the plan,” I shout to Jason as we jog back onto the field, down by three.
“Tell me,” he says, all business.
“You get me that ball, and I will put it in the end zone. That’s my motherfucking promise.”
I am not walking off this field in Phoenix with an L. No way, no how.
“Let’s do it, Chandler.”
We line up, and I stare at Jason as he takes the snap. Then I’m off and running a route that I pray the Miami defense won’t see coming.
No time for anything but play-your-heart-out ball.
I race downfield, watching with eagle eyes as Jason lobs the football my way.
As it spirals beautifully, I smile at Miami’s secondary to throw them off the scent, then I spin around.
With outstretched arms I haul that baby in, cradle it, and run like the world is ending.
Right into the end zone.
Bam.
We have the lead in the Super Bowl, and I am electrified.
Jason catches up and smacks palms with me, and we trot off the field, fist bumping the rest of the offense. Special teams rush onto the field, and the kick is good.
Now, it’s up to defense.
“C’mon, Hawks. Hold them off,” I shout as I pace the sideline. This is going to be the tensest minute of my life, and there’s nothing I can do to ease my anxiety except steal a glance at the fifty-yard line.
Hunter’s cheering from the stands, waving a foam finger, rooting me on next to my mom, dad, and sister. My whole family is right there in the stands. It’s beautiful.
Win or lose, my life is good. I play a game I love for a living, and I go home to a man I love more than the game.
I turn my gaze back to the field. Watching as the Miami quarterback throws an incomplete pass on fourth down, putting this game in the record books. I raise my arms in victory then run onto the field with my teammates in the best celebration of my life.
We shout and cheer, and this is better than I ever imagined.
Only one thing would make it better. I peel away from the Hawks and rush over to the fifty-yard line.
Hunter’s grin is bigger than mine, and that’s saying something.
“I can’t believe we won a Super Bowl, handsome,” I shout, even though he knows it.
“I can believe it,” he says, then he grabs my face and kisses me before the crowd and all the TV audiences around the world.
When he lets go, he says, “Now you have a ring.”
“It’ll be my second favorite,” I tell him.
We still have our original Vegas bands. They’re sentimental, and we love them. Every time I look at mine, I think about the night some bourbon and a bet led me to a chapel in the City of Sin.
Best decision I ever made, and I am so stoked that Vegas me was looking out for San Francisco me by marrying this amazing man.
A few days after the Super Bowl, I board a plane with my husband and we fly across the ocean.
These pictures are the best. “Can I get copies of every single one?”
I put on my best good-boy face as I plead with Hunter’s mom. I’m on the edge of my seat on her couch, and she’s been showing me photo albums featuring my husband as a kid.
“He’s never taken a bad photo in his life,” she says as she flips to another page in the album.
“I’m sure I’ve taken plenty of bad ones, Mum,” he says.
“No, you haven’t, love. It’s the dimple, plus your disposition,” she says, like that’s that.
“That’s a good line, Ms. Colburn. The dimple plus his disposition. I’m going to have to use that.”
“For what?” Hunter asks with an amused snort.
“For anything,” I say. “Trust me, I’ll find a way.”
Then, I pore over more photos of the man I love.
Later, we return to our hotel room overlooking the River Thames and I put my man on his knees and drive him wild. Then, he does the same to me.
The next night, we meet up with friends. We head to the coffee shop with Trevor and Liam. I greet them like they’re old pals, then Trevor says, “For the record, we always knew it was real.”
“It sure was,” I say.
We go to a dance club, where we meet Zane and Maddox, who are in town as part of their off-season travels before spring training. They love the club scene too, so the six of us drink champagne and whiskey, toasting to London.
“To baseball,” Zane shouts next, lifting his glass.
“To every sport,” Maddox says.
“To love,” I put in.
“And to sex. Lots and lots of sex and love,” Hunter adds.
Then, we head to the dance floor, coupling off, as Trevor and Liam dance together, as Zane moves behind Maddox, as my husband and I take turns grinding and kissing and laughing and drinking.
And living our best life together.
When we leave London a week later, we stop in New York, grab dinner with Hunter’s sister, then head over to Gin Joint in Chelsea to catch up with Luke and Tanner, as well as Bryan, who’s in town visiting his brother.
It’s the Vegas crew reunited, and it is good to see these guys again.
“Tanner, how’s your new friend in the suit?” I ask, curiously.
Tanner just grins. “We went out. It was…nice.”
Luke chuckles. “ Nice ? It was nice. That sounds soooo promising.”
Tanner shoots Luke a dark look. “Maybe nice isn’t bad.”
“For fifteen thousand dollars, I bet he wanted more than a nice date.”
“And maybe nice is a euphemism,” Tanner says drily.
Luke laughs. “Well, I like nice dates too then.”
Tanner claps Luke on the shoulder, his tone a little serious, maybe a little sexy too as he says, “Then, Luke. Maybe next time come out and bid more than fifteen thousand.”
Luke blinks. He’s quiet, then he clears his throat and says, “Good to know.”
We move on to other topics. At the end of the night, Tanner lifts a glass, his tone serious. “To the Vegas husbands. I always knew you two would last.”
Luke clinks his glass with ours, with genuine pride in his voice. “I knew it too.”
“In fact, we bet on it the next morning,” Bryan weighs in. “But we all said you’d stay married.”
“So I guess we won,” I say.
“We both won,” Hunter corrects, then kisses me in front of my friends like he did that night in Vegas. Like he’ll do, I’m sure, many years from now too.
#
When we return to California, we stop by Los Angeles first, visiting my sister. She has news , she tells me. She takes us out to a restaurant in Venice, looking like she’s about to burst with excitement. Once we sit, I stare at her, eager. “What is going on, Ames?”
Her smile deepens. “You know that trip I just returned from? The book tour where I took Axel Huxley and Hazel Valentine and some VIP readers around Europe?”
“Yes. That sounded awesome and I’m mildly jealous.”
“Me too,” Hunter chimes in, then points at me. “He got me addicted to Huxley.”
Amy smiles. “I’m glad his books are popular. Glad he warranted a book tour. Since…I met someone on it,” she says, then tells us a story about a billionaire who was determined to win her over.
Holy smokes. My sister is in love. Big love. Epic love. Just like…me.
Hunter
June
I’m at the end of the line at the dunk tank, but I don’t mind. Sarah’s great company, and we’re planning our strategy for a mountain bike ride we’re doing, along with her boyfriend, around Lake Tahoe later in the summer.
It’s called the Death Ride. It’s one hundred-twenty-nine miles over five mountain passes, comprising sixteen thousand feet of climbing.
“We’ll have to hydrate, eat lots of carbs, and basically chat the whole damn time,” she says.
“Hmm. Sounds just like us,” I say.
“It sure does,” she says as we move up a few spots. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you live here?”
“A few times,” I say, then stage whisper, “I’m glad too.”
I’ve been living in San Francisco for eight months now, and they’ve been the best eight months of my life. I earned a promotion at Webflix, and now I’m a producer — no more ‘associate.’
I’m working on all the NFL games in Europe, and that takes me back to the homeland often so I get to see my mates and my mum.
Mostly, though, I work in the States, developing promotional videos for our sports coverage and working on acquisitions of adventure-sports shows.
I’ve learned so much from Ilene—she’s quirky, yes. But she’s dedicated, passionate, and cares deeply about the people she works with.
I still don’t like kale smoothies, though. Or pumpkin spice lattes. And Nate doesn’t like pie.
But we both love living together and seeing each other nearly every day. I root for him at his games, and he cheers me on with support and a willing ear. He’ll always listen whenever I want to talk. He listens too when I sing in the shower.
He knows, too, when to shut up and fuck, and that keeps us plenty busy.
So do all the thrillers we read together and debate. The movies we watch. The quotes I shout at the screen.
It’s a fantastic life, and I owe the start of it all to a dunk tank and some pie.
When I reach the front of the line, I pick up a ball and cock my arm.
“Just try to take me down,” Nate taunts from the tank.
“I’ll get you on the first try,” I say, then I fire the ball, smacking the target and sending my husband splashing into the water.
When he comes up, he slides a hand over his wet hair. Then shrugs happily.
Later, when he gets out of the tank and dries off, he joins Sarah and me. “You got me on the first try. That feels like a metaphor,” he says.
“It sure does.”
On October thirteenth, since we were married after midnight one year ago, Nate and I escape San Francisco and fly to Vegas by ourselves.
We go to the chapel in The Extravagant and we renew our vows.
“Do you, Nate Chandler, take this man to be your husband again?” the officiant asks.
“I do,” Nate says in a reverent tone.
“Do you, Hunter Colburn, take this man to be your husband again?”
“I do,” I say solemnly.
Then I kiss my husband, smiling when we break apart. “Husband again. I think I’ll call you that.”
“Works for me.” He grins, a little cocky, a little bossy. “Because of your dimple and your disposition.”
Then, these two husbands again go to the room and shut the door to the world.
Surprise!! Tanner’s and Luke’s romance is here now!