Epilogue
Alexei
Five years later . . .
“I don’t think I can do this,” Ryleigh whispers from the passenger side of the car, her hand resting on the round bump of her belly.
My stomach drops, and I reach over and place my hand on her knee. I hate the thought that she’s scared. “The glucose test? It’ll be fine. It’s just a quick blood draw. I’ll hold your hand and distract you. Anything you need.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at me. “I’m not talking about the glucose test today.”
She’s six months pregnant with our second daughter, our first biological child, if you want to get technical about it. Either way, I’m over the fucking moon. We’re headed to the doctor’s office after we drop Ella off at her first day of kindergarten. So, yeah, it’s a big day all around.
Ryleigh’s gaze darts to the back seat where Ella sits, humming quietly to herself. “I mean . . . did we really consider homeschooling, because it’s not too late, you know?”
I swallow a chuckle and stare straight ahead as the parking attendant at the private school we’ve selected for Ella motions us forward into the drop-off line. “Baby, this is one of the best schools in the entire country. Ella is going to love it.”
Ella’s been talking about her first day of kindergarten for months. She’s ready—even if Ryleigh’s not.
Ryleigh completed her master’s degree in teaching last year, and she would have been teaching here this year if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.
She decided to take one more year at home, knowing it was Ella’s last year at home too.
But they held her position and she’ll begin teaching first grade next year when the baby is about eight months old.
Though to be honest, I really wonder how long that will last. My mother is determined that she’ll be the one watching the baby, but I have my doubts that Ryleigh will really want to leave the baby and go back to work.
I’ll support whatever she wants to do, of course.
God knows with my salary, she certainly doesn’t have to work.
The Hawks renewed my contract for another three years—another 30 million dollars.
After that, I plan to retire. Retired by thirty-six sounds about right to me.
Then I can enjoy all of my girls more. No more early morning practices or away games.
I’m already looking forward to it, although Ryleigh swears I’ll miss it.
I may miss the game, but I won’t miss being away from them on such a grueling schedule.
More time with the ones I love is not something I take for granted.
Especially after watching Andi struggle and die so young.
To be fair though, Andi exceeded all expectations, living until Ella was nine months old, crawling around, babbling, and saying Dada.
She loved her daughter, and loved how happy the baby made Ryleigh and me.
I know she’s in a better place, and Ryleigh and I made peace a long time ago with her passing.
Plus, we got the best gift in the entire world—Ella. Which brings us to this moment.
“I don’t know, Alexei.” Ryleigh chews on her lower lip, eyeing the sturdy brick building.
“Mommy, is that my school?” Ella asks from the back seat, her voice chipper. Thankfully, she’s completely oblivious to Ryleigh’s near breakdown.
“That’s your school, my love. What do you think?” I ask as Ryleigh wipes at her teary eyes with a tissue.
“Yay!” Ella cheers.
I chuckle, and even Ryleigh lets out a small, sad laugh.
Pregnancy suits her. She’s still petite and beautiful as ever, but with full breasts and a round belly that even strangers can’t seem to help but reach out and touch. Of course, she’s more emotional than she’s ever been, which I’m still learning how to navigate.
“You okay?” I press my hand to her knee once again and give it a squeeze.
She gives me a brave nod, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I guess I have to be.” Leaning around the passenger seat, she looks back at Ella, reaching out to smooth her hair where it’s been so neatly braided. “Why did you have to grow up so fast, love?”
Ella giggles. “Because, Mommy! I’m a big girl.”
She is big. She’s five years old with Andi’s blond hair and blue eyes and this fierce little personality that’s equal parts Ryleigh and something entirely her own.
She knows she’s adopted—we started telling her early, in simple terms, the way the counselor recommended.
She knows her first mommy loved her very much and got sick and had to go to heaven. She knows Ryleigh chose her.
What she doesn’t know yet—what she’ll learn when she’s older—is that her bedroom has a small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet.
Inside it is a photo album, a silk scarf in pale blue, and a letter Andi wrote during her last week at the hospice.
Ryleigh sat beside her bed while Andi dictated and Ryleigh wrote it down, because Andi’s hands weren’t steady enough anymore.
Ella will read it someday. And when she does, she’ll know exactly how much she was loved—by all of us.
“I know you’re a big girl. I’m so proud of you. Go have an amazing first day of kindergarten. We’ll pick you up at the end of the day.”
“Daddy too?”
Ryleigh nods. “Daddy too.”
“Listen to your teacher, okay?” I say, giving Ella our secret double wink. She repeats it back to me, rapidly blinking both eyes.
“I will, Daddy!”
Hearing her sweet voice call me daddy never gets old. I chuckle as she unbuckles her own seat belt and climbs out of the car with her brightly colored unicorn lunch box.
She looks so small following the teacher up the sidewalk and into the building. Fucking hell. Tears fill my eyes as I watch her walk away and a lump the size of Illinois lodges in my throat.
“See. Told ya this sucks,” Ryleigh says, wiping away the fresh tears that are falling from her eyes when she notices my watery eyes.
“Fucking sucks. Big time,” I say, putting the car into drive and pulling away reluctantly. “What time is school over?”
“Two o’clock.”
This is going to be the longest six hours of my life.
* * *
“Have you guys decided on a name yet?” my agent, Slate, asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the ice bucket on the counter.
It’s several nights later, and Ryleigh and I are hosting a small dinner party at our new-ish apartment in an exclusive gated neighborhood downtown. We decided we needed a little more space before the baby came. My old bachelor pad was fine for Ryleigh, Ella, and me, but that had run its course.
Two months ago, we moved into this place, which is a few miles closer to Ella’s new school. We have a beautiful terrace overlooking the city and four thousand square feet, which is plenty big enough for all the baby dolls and Legos that currently decorate our space.
Tonight, we’re hosting a small dinner party for our close friends.
Slate is here with his wife, Keaton, and their six-month-old son, Beckham.
So are Weston and Jane and their daughter and their twin boys—aka their hellions, who totally take after Weston.
Which sucks. For Jane. They just turned three, and yeah, I’m surprised they haven’t started a fire or killed each other by now.
After being around them, I wouldn’t wish twins on my worst enemy.
Beau and Bennett are fair-haired like Jane but built like Weston—bulky and too tall for their age, and extremely physical.
Ella adores their daughter Madison, but she’s visiting her grandparents tonight.
The only other people missing from the party are our good friends Cam and Natalie.
They are in Hawaii for a destination wedding for their friends Jack and Meredith, but it’s probably just as well.
They are our only friends without kids, and being around all this chaos might deter them from procreating.
But ever since they got married last year, all they’ve talked about is babies, so I know it’s not far off for them.
Realizing that Slate is still waiting for my reply, I shake my head. “We’re still figuring that out. We have a list.”
Slate chuckles. “Oh, I remember the list.”
Keaton elbows him. “You loved my list.”
Slate gives her a crooked grin. “You mean your spreadsheet with the color-coded tabs.”
Keaton, his wife and more analytical half, chuckles. “Yes. That. It was genius.”
“That it was,” Slate says.
“Our list is a little less sophisticated. It’s on an old takeout napkin taped to the side of the fridge.”
Ryleigh’s eyes meet mine, and her hand rests on her stomach. “We’ll figure it out. We have time.”
Jane nods and leads Ryleigh into the living room toward the couch. “You have plenty of time. We didn’t name the twins until they were three days old.”
After I check on the meal, I join the gang in the living room and settle on the couch beside Ryleigh.
Ella, the only little girl amongst the little kids, clearly rules the roost. They’re playing babies. Beau and Bennett each hold a naked baby doll in their lap as Ella gives them instructions on how to diaper them. I grin as I watch. Beside me, Weston frowns.
“Might need to get them some baby dolls,” I say.
Weston shrugs. “Jane already has. Something about gender-neutral toys.”
I nod. “Guess it makes sense. For her first birthday, I got Ella a football.”
“Along with full tackle gear,” Ryleigh adds, rolling her eyes.
“Didn’t Ella have her first day of kindergarten this week?” Jane asks. “How did that go?”
“Ugh. Awful.” Ryleigh shakes her head. “A piece of advice . . . don’t let them grow up.”
“Are you sure?” Slate asks. “Because I’d kind of like to go back to sleeping through the night. That’d be fucking awesome.”
Keaton elbows him again. “I told you not to get up every time he needs his pacifier. We need to sleep-train him.” She ruffles the fuzzy brown curls on her baby son’s head as he sits perched on her knee, watching the older children play.
“Ella loves school, loves her teacher,” Ryleigh says. “But yeah, Alexei and I were both in tears when we watched her walk inside.”
I scoff. “I was not in tears.” I just had a little something in my eye is all.
Weston chuckles. “The big bad linebacker crying at school drop-off. What a puss—I mean, what a baby.”
Jabbing him in the side with my elbow, I glare at him. “Just wait until your twins start school, fucker,” I whisper, low enough that Weston hears me, but the innocent little ears don’t.
Jane perks up, sitting up straighter. “Well, I for one can’t wait for that day. The three hours a day the twins are at preschool is like heaven.”
Ryleigh chuckles and pats Jane’s hand. “You deserve a break, Mama.”
Isn’t that the damn truth? Those twins are crazy, but I don’t say as much.
I just nod in agreement with Ryleigh. It is pretty incredible how captivated the boys are by Ella.
They haven’t overturned a potted plant or started a fire in my microwave yet this visit.
Turns out, if you nuke an iPhone, the fucker will explode into flames. Who knew?
The timer beeps in the kitchen, signaling that dinner is ready, and I rise to my feet. “Dinner in five, guys.”
After cleaning up the baby dolls and their accessories, Ryleigh makes a little assembly line, helping the children wash their hands before dinner.
I place two large casserole pans of lasagna in the center of the table, along with a huge salad and two overflowing bread baskets.
Everyone takes their seats, with baby Beckham in Ella’s old high chair between Slate and Keaton.
Ella and the twins are at a tiny version of our mahogany dining table that I had made for her.
Ryleigh is by my side, and Weston and Jane sit across from us.
“This looks great, Alex,” Jane says, setting prepared plates in front of the twins and rejoining us at the table.
I can’t help but notice the line in Ryleigh’s forehead. Anytime someone calls me Alex, it still seems to throw her off. I smile at her, and when she notices, she grins at me. Her smile is bright and uninhibited, so happy, it almost takes my breath away. Man, I love her.
Once the food is dished up and everyone has dug in, I place a hand on Ryleigh’s knee under the table and give it a gentle squeeze.
“I love you,” I murmur, leaning in closer.
She looks at me, meeting my eyes with a half-smile on her lips. “I love you too,” she whispers, leaning closer.
“Forever?” I ask, grinning.
“And ever,” she replies, and my heart swells.
I reach over and place my hand on the firm curve of her belly.
Sometimes I try to picture how my life would be if she and Ella hadn’t come bursting into it.
These aren’t pleasant thoughts. It’s a sad and lonely existence where I’m still single and struggling to find myself in the world.
It’s a place where football is my entire life, and honestly, it sounds so sad to me now that I almost hate to picture it. My life was so empty before.
Even though Ryleigh thinks I’ll miss it and be miserable, I can’t wait to retire from football after this contract ends.
More time with my girls sounds exactly perfect.
I have plans to buy a vacation home on the beach somewhere, and sleep late and make epic pancake breakfasts .
. . there are so many things I’m looking forward to.
But none more than loving and protecting my girls for all my days on this earth.
“Pass the salad?” Keaton asks, snapping me from my daydream.
I hand her the salad bowl, grateful that we have such wonderful friends we can count on.
“You okay there?” Ryleigh asks, smirking at me. She clearly noticed the fact that I was deep in thought.
“Never better,” I say with a grin, but I’m lying.
It’s hard to imagine, but I know I’ll be even better when we have a new baby in the house. After all, I am the baby-whisperer.
* * *
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