Epilogue
EIGHT WEEKS LATER
TRISTAN
I’ve got a bottle of champagne clutched under my arm and my phone propped in video record mode in order to catch Ligaya’s reaction when I tell her I signed the Columbus contract.
It took the whole summer to negotiate, since Chris had been dangling some other teams in the mix. My job was to stay out of the process until the offers were solid.
There was plenty to keep me busy in the meantime.
Setting up a sleeping and feeding schedule for twins is a logistical challenge, to say the least. And to add to that stress, the home buying process is no joke.
A two-bedroom townhouse shrinks quickly with two babies and all their gear.
How can such tiny creatures need so many things?
I got tired of stepping on contraptions and never seeing the kitchen counters.
We’re moving into our new home in a couple of days. Another logistical challenge, you might say, though absolutely worth it.
This is our forever home.
The papers are signed, the keys are in our hands, and all the furniture is ordered.
It’s a four-bedroom ranch-style house on the outskirts of Centerstone, closer to the Columbus arena.
We’ve got an enormous yard that backs up to a wooded area where I imagine Olivia and Orlando playing tag one day.
Or maybe I can build a private hockey rink. Plenty of space for it.
Inside, there’s a fully renovated kitchen, two living room areas, a dining room, and an office. Upstairs is our main bedroom and three other bedrooms for Orlando, Olivia, and maybe a third? I’m not against the idea.
Tonight, I reserved a table at a fancy restaurant downtown for me and Ligaya.
Ostensibly, it was to meet after the contract was signed, but there’s an even more important reason.
Tonight, I’m asking the woman of my dreams to be my wife.
Instead of blurting out “marry me” without a plan, I’ve got a speech.
No way am I messing up the proposal this time.
Ligaya called and asked to be picked up at our new house.
Her parents were already taking care of the babies, so she took the opportunity to bring some personal things before the move.
I’m grinning like an idiot, rehearsing the line in my head—Surprise!
I don’t have to retire after all!—when I hear her footsteps on the stairs.
I angle the camera toward the landing, already picturing the moment she gasps, maybe cries, definitely kisses me senseless.
Ligaya appears at the landing.
She is not wearing the sundress I pictured.
In fact, Ligaya is not wearing much at all.
She is at the top of the stairs in black lingerie made of lace and see-through fabric that grazes the very top of her thighs.
Apart from that, she’s bare except for the strappy, shimmery heels that make her legs absolutely mouthwatering.
Her hair is down, her glasses off, and her breasts bouncy as she takes one step at a time.
I’m speechless. And hard. Very hard.
The doctor gave the green light a week ago, but it’s me who held back, because what if I hurt her? Also, every second we’re not cleaning or feeding or entertaining the babies is spent resting. Ligaya is still recovering.
So, I’ve had eight weeks’ worth of blue balls, but I’m not complaining. Waiting this long means every touch is electric, every kiss a new discovery, every glimpse of her skin a seduction.
Today is a full attack on my senses. She takes my breath away.
It’s like seeing the woman of your dreams in real life for the first time.
Ligaya approaches and does a little spin. The movement lifts the already seductive lingerie to reveal a G-string. My jaw drops, and I barely swallow my drool.
She’s both the woman of my dreams and the figment of my filthy imagination.
The champagne nearly slips from my grip.
Her eyes flit to the phone I’m holding.
“Tristan, are you recording me?”
“Huh?” Her lips moved, but I’m too distracted by the gloss on them to fully understand the words.
“Are you recording me?” Annoyance has crept into her voice.
That’s when I realize that I got all her sexy walk down the stairs in my phone. Plus that seductive spin when I glimpsed the curve of her ass. Oh, wow, and the way her nipples strain against the lace that can hardly contain her breasts. I zoom in. Gorgeous.
The memory of this seduction will get me hard for the rest of my life, but I get to watch over and over again? Hell, yeah.
“I wanted to get your reaction to my news, but this is much better. Straight to the spank bank,” I say with a grin.
“News? What news?”
“I signed the contract, baby. I am gainfully employed for at least another three years.”
Ligaya claps her hands before covering her gleeful face, like she’s holding back a yelp of joy.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” I say.
Her fingers grip my shirt to pull me down for a firm, closed-mouth kiss. “Put the camera away.” She grabs my hard cock straining against the zipper. “Why watch when you can have the real thing?”
“Right. Yes. Camera away.” I fumble so hard I nearly FaceTime the team group chat by accident.
Before I really do drop the champagne bottle, I put it on the floor and wrap Ligaya in my arms.