Epilogue - Tenny
“You look good out here,” a smiling voice says over the rush of the waves.
I push up on my elbow, shielding my face to gaze at my gorgeous wife. There’s nothing better than the look of her golden locks drenched with salt water, her board beneath her arm. She adjusts the shoulder strap of her white one-piece suit, that smirk I love settled over her lips.
“You look good out there,” I say with a flirty wink.
Alex shakes her head. “No way you could have seen me. You passed out the second you stretched out your towel.”
“Can you blame me?” I sit all the way up and don’t miss my wife’s appreciative perusal of my bare torso. “Someone was very excited to see me last night. I hardly slept a wink.”
Though I finished the post-season two weeks ago when the Waves lost in the Division Series, I had team commitments that kept me from traveling to our offseason home on the North Shore.
Like in previous years, I insisted Alex head out as soon as the Waves finished games, so she could maximize her training.
Juggling two elite athlete’s schedules takes some serious time-management skills, but Friedrich is a wizard at coordinating every second of the day.
The World Surf League Championship Tour runs roughly the same time as baseball season, but we’ve been able to make it work with an excessive amount of air miles and hours-long video calls.
I was also smart in contract negotiations to work in a mandatory four-day leave in anticipation of Alex’s Olympic debut last summer.
Though I wasn’t able to be there the whole time, I was able to watch her cinch her position in surf history.
The only moment that rivaled watching Alex win silver for the United States was when the Waves won their second consecutive World Series Championship the season we started dating.
Alex plops down onto the sand beside my towel, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at the surf.
She’s been quiet lately, more so than usual, but I know my wife will talk to me when she’s ready.
Unlike me, who will careen off a cliff without a second thought, Alex needs time to mull things over.
I lean over to press a kiss over the crook of her neck. “I’m so in love with you.”
Alex captures my cheek in her palm, her eyes tracing my face before she brings her mouth to mine. Our leisurely kiss feels brighter than the Hawaiian sunshine warming our skin. My wife giggles when I grip her hip, dragging her astride my lap before deepening the kiss.
“Tenny, wait,” she manages before I suck on her lower lip, silencing her.
Alex melts into me, just like she has every time I’ve kissed her over the years. I’ll never get enough—of this, of her. Even if we spent every waking second together, I’d never get tired of Alex. As it stands with our crazy schedules, I need to capitalize on moments like this every chance I get.
Several glorious minutes pass before I let my wife catch her breath.
Her hazy eyes stare, unfocused, at my lips, her delicate collarbones rising and falling.
I trace my fingertips along the sapphire tennis necklace I bought her as a wedding gift.
After a post-game confession that she’s always been slightly jealous of mine, I coordinated with my jeweler to make one for Alex.
Now, even when she’s barefoot, she has a little sparkle.
My wife grips my jaw to set another kiss over my lips before she leans back with a sigh. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, supporting her. My thumb draws unhurried circles in salt water that still clings to her skin.
“What is it?”
Alex wrinkles her nose, her gaze shifting to the tropical foliage behind me.
The corner of my mouth kicks up before I kiss that tender spot beneath her ear. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
It takes several moments before Alex’s eyes meet mine. In the meantime, I revel in the sensation of her ribs expanding against my forearms, of the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. It’s impossible not to press a few chaste kisses over her cheek, temple, and to the top of her shoulder as I wait.
“I’m tired.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do I need to remind you again of why?”
Alex rolls her eyes, causing a grin to light up my face.
She sags with a long, noisy exhale. “I mean I’m tired of our lifestyle. Of always being in different places.”
My lips graze hers, helpless not to. “We have the next two months together. I’ll be in your space so much that you’ll be counting the days until the tour starts.”
“I’m not going to get tired of you,” she argues.
“Sure you will. I’m going to start each day with an ABBA singalong.
Then I’m going to ask you entirely too many questions.
” I give her a light squeeze. “Constant touching, obviously. I also think it’s time I brought back the nicknames—spicy nugget, lovezilla, cuddlebugger.
Then, I’m going to steal all the blankets at night and unabashedly wrap myself into a burrito. ”
Alex’s bright laughter is the stuff of dreams.
“All of that, huh?”
“More,” I tell her, leaning closer. “That was just off the top of my head. Imagine how irritating I can be after some thought.”
My wife shakes her head, her smile softening. “You’re never irritating.”
“What about when I leave the seat up?”
Her lips twist. “Yeah, that’s annoying, especially when I’m half-asleep and fall into the toilet in the middle of the night.”
“Luckily, it was only that one time. And I made up for it.”
Alex’s gaze hazes over as she remembers exactly how I made up for one of the most classic husband mistakes.
The back of her hand swatting me in my chest takes me by surprise. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“Sorry, babe,” I murmur the words before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
She fixes me with a sassy glare. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” My lips find that spot beneath her ear again. “In fact, I’d rather continue this conversation in the privacy of our outdoor shower. Can you take a break?”
Her hands come to my shoulders with a slight growl before my wife flattens me onto my towel.
“This works too.” I smirk at her pinched face, hovering above me.
Alex huffs, pushing up and sitting primly beside my towel on the sand. “Let me know when you’re ready to act like a grownup.”
A bark of laughter escapes me. I love that we haven’t lost our playful banter even after years of marriage. I’m also glad Alex didn’t make me wait long, accepting my sapphire engagement ring and my proposal to get married before she left for her Olympic qualifying tour.
Sitting up, I cross my legs and tuck my hands beneath my thighs. “Sorry for real this time. Please continue.”
Alex eyes my trapped hands then nods, satisfied. When all the joy slips from her face as her gaze returns to the sea, I almost reach out on reflex. Pins and needles prick my skin as I wait, but I force myself to stay still.
“I think I need a break—a real one.” Alex sifts her fingers through the end of her sodden ponytail. “I’ve been doing some math. It’s another three years until the next Olympics. If I wanted to take a year off, now would be the best time.”
I nod, waiting for her to finish her thought.
“And Caitlin keeps bugging me about coaching.”
The former pro-surfer and the current owner of the elite training program at Virginia Beach’s Atlantic Park has become one of Alex’s closest friends.
With the park’s ability to create customizable, six- to eight-foot, high-volume barrels, the coveted training facility draws athletes from across the country.
“If I work for her, I can train Olympic hopefuls in the afternoons and be at your games in the evenings. I could have time to breathe without jetting off to practice at the next break, doing media and sponsor work between competitive legs.”
Transitioning from reporter to subject was effortless for Alex, making her a favorite among the media.
With her sparkling on-camera presence, it’s no surprise that Alex has more sponsorship deals than I do.
Not only is she undeniably gorgeous with effortless poise for video campaigns, but her surfing skills speak for themselves.
“Also…” The word drops off with an audible exhale. “I’m turning thirty soon.”
“I know.”
Alex’s surprise party has been in planning stages for nine months.
I’m flying out her entire family in a few weeks.
Momma and my sisters will be joining us as well since they love Alex almost as much as I do.
I’ve also invited several of her friends from the tour and the WAGs that she’s closest with.
Since our O’ahu home is more of a private bungalow just for us, I’ve coordinated housing within walking distance for everyone.
The best party planner on the island has been more than happy to accommodate my over-the-top requests—like an after-dinner beach bonfire with Alex’s favorite folk artist playing acoustic guitar, followed by drones spelling “Happy 30th Birthday, Alex” in the inky sky before a massive fireworks display.
The planner also suggested having a Michelin-star chef create an unforgettable custom menu with themed courses and guest gift bags filled with Alex’s favorite products.
When Alex reaches out her hand, I grip it firmly.
“It has me thinking about a different kind of adventure.”
“Like what?” I ask, brows knitting.
Her beautiful brown eyes lock with mine. “Like teaching little ones how to pop up on a board. Ones with one-sided dimples and ice-blue eyes, or my eyes and your hair, or—”
Her sentence drops off with a surprised squeal as I scoop her into my lap again.
“How do you do that?” I ask, burrowing my face in her neck while breathing in the calming combination of eucalyptus and salt water.
“Do what?”
“Take all my wildest dreams and multiply them tenfold.” I kiss her neck then the corner of her mouth before capturing her lips with mine.
“I’m already deliriously happy with our life, that you’re my wife.
” I pause, clearing the grit from my voice.
“But nothing would make me happier than starting a family with you.”
My hand frames her face as a tear slips down her cheek. I capture it with my thumb, kissing her again because I’m incapable of holding back when my chest feels like it’s the size of a hot air balloon. Alex pours into me with the same fervor, her fingers twitchy in my hair.
She leans back slightly, her lips curling into a smile against mine. “Do you want to start now?”
I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster in my life.
Tossing Alex over my shoulder, I grab my towel, stoop to pick up her board, and sprint toward our house like I’m about to be thrown out stealing. My wife giggles as she bounces along, bracing herself against my back.
All I can think about as I fly up our deck stairs—besides the fact that I’m the luckiest man alive—is that each new inning with Alex just keeps getting better than the last.