Chapter Fifteen #3
I imagine I’d be the same way if we were coming home after I
won an Emmy or an Oscar.
Looking around, I wish there were somewhere fitting for it—a
mantel with a light to shine on it, or even a nice table. But there isn’t. The
whole minimalist thing feels crazy obvious right now. It also feels almost too
quiet. After such a loud and eventful night, coming home to our silent, barely
furnished apartment feels anticlimactic.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask. Now that the season
is officially over, I know we can let go of some of the strict routines.
Shaking his head, he puts the trophy down on the sofa like
it’s no big deal, before walking over and kissing me.
This. This is what I love. We can finally have our moment.
When he lifts his head, I let out a dreamy sigh. “I know I
said it earlier, but there was so much going on around us. Thanks for winning
the World Series for me.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Ella Rose.”
I know in his heart he means it. And now isn’t the time to
dredge up past arguments. This is Christian’s night.
“I just want to shower, crawl into bed, and hold you close
while we watch some TV. I’m beyond exhausted.”
“Then that’s what you should do.” I give him a playful shove
toward our bedroom. “Go and take your shower. I’ll join you in bed when you’re
done.”
I think it’s sweet that he picks up the trophy and takes it
with him.
When I walk into the bedroom a few minutes later, I find it
on the floor. “That won’t do,” I murmur. Looking around, I’m reminded of how
bare our bedroom is. We have a mattress on the floor and a TV on a stand but
that’s it. This trophy needs a place of honor.
Inspiration strikes.
Well, unconventional inspiration.
Within minutes, I’ve got everything set up, and as I stand
back and admire my handiwork, I know Christian’s going to love it, too. I hear
the shower turn off, quickly change into my pajamas, and climb into bed. When
the bathroom door opens, I’m sitting up against the pillows, smiling.
“How was that shower?”
He looks at me with a sleepy smile. “Fantastic. I think
maybe tomorrow we can—” He pauses when he spots his trophy. “What in the
world?” Grinning, he looks at me.
“It needed to be on display.” I shrug. “And this was the
biggest spot I could find.”
“The ironing board?” And yes, now he’s trying not to laugh.
“Yup. I couldn’t just let it sit on the floor.” He climbs
into the bed beside me, and we both laugh in disbelief at this amazing moment.
“I’m in awe of you, Christian, and so were all the people watching you tonight.
That MVP trophy was awarded to the right person.”
“You’re just biased.”
“I am. But not about this. You deserve that award. I’ve
never seen you play like you did in this series.” I wonder how much he’s
hurting, but I don’t ask.
Resting his head on my shoulder, we both get comfortable as
we stare at the trophy.
“I know you probably already envisioned winning the World
Series. After all, that’s been the goal for the entire season. But was it
everything you thought it would be?” His hand’s in mine, and for the first time
in months, he feels like he’s relaxed.
“The goal at the beginning of every season is to win the
World Series. That’s the only reason you play. You expect to win. That’s what
pushes you through the hard times. Although there were times this season when
it felt impossible, we kept on believing. But to win the MVP? That was never on
my radar. I never thought I’d receive that honor.”
“As I said, it was well deserved.”
We sit in companionable silence for several minutes, the
kind that doesn’t feel empty or awkward—just full. Full of the crowd still
echoing faintly in our heads, full of adrenaline slowly fading into something
softer, fuller, deeper. He finally lifts his head, his eyes finding mine, and
the tenderness there nearly steals the air from my lungs.
“This was the greatest night of my life, Ella Rose,” he says
quietly, voice rough with emotion. “And not just because of the win or the
trophy. Because you were right there with me. Celebrating it. Living it with
me.”
My heart squeezes—too full, too grateful. “There’s nowhere
else in the world I would rather be,” I whisper, and I mean it with every beat
of my heart.
He gives me a small, shaky laugh—the kind a strong man only
lets out when he feels safe. “I’m just so glad you could work out your filming
schedule for this. I would’ve been devastated if you hadn’t been here. I know
you’ve got lines to memorize, and scenes to shoot, and your world is just as
demanding as mine, so the fact that you chose to be here tonight?” He swallows.
“It means everything.”
I reach for his hand and curl my fingers through his.
“Nothing else mattered tonight. Everyone on set understood that. I understood
that. I never even thought about the movie once the game started. My entire
world was right here. Watching you, cheering for you, being with you. That was
the only thing I wanted.”
I briefly think about Tracy’s call and know I’m not lying.
My focus was where it needed to be.
No matter the cost.