Epilogue
MVP QUARTERBACK
NO LONGER FREE AGENT
SAN DIEGO, CA
Championship MVP quarterback for the Tampa Bay Pirates, Archer Ramos, entered free agency after four seasons in the professional league, including two National Championship appearances and an MVP title after Tampa Bay’s win last month.
With his rookie contract expired, and the entire league licking their chops waiting for the opportunity to sign the record-setting quarterback, Ramos and his team entered the negotiation period feeling hopeful, an inside source says.
“But he always knew where he was going to end up,” the source continues. Reports surfaced several weeks ago that while Ramos was in negotiations with multiple teams, he had his sights set on the San Diego Sharks after his fiancé was spotted house hunting in the region.
After twelve years without a single playoff berth, shock waves rolled through the league at the rumors, but it’s now been confirmed: Archer Ramos is a Shark.
“I grew up going to Shark’s games for my birthday, had the posters on my wall and my favorite player’s jersey. I’m excited for my daughter to have the same experience. I’m happy to be home,” Ramos says in his official statement regarding the new contract.
With a new coach, a young team, and a champion QB, San Diego has more potential this season than ever before, but will it be enough to end their playoff dry spell?
Archer
I’m no stranger to having thousands of eyes on me, but somehow, the two hundred and fifty people sitting in front of me have my nerves kicking up with an intensity far greater than any football game ever has.
My ass is in my throat, and time seems to suspend entirely as I wait for Allie.
The midday sun is beating down overhead, and I’m sweating profusely beneath the rust-colored jacket of my tuxedo.
Allie promised that March would remain cool enough for velvet, but of course, the temperatures have been record setting the week of our wedding.
Thankfully, the ocean breeze wafts up from the cliffside behind my back, giving me a moment of reprieve.
In front of the ocean, I stand beneath the elaborate floral arch set up at the back of our property, our home stands before me, friends and family sitting on either side of the aisle that stretches over the lawn between our deck and the cliffs.
We bought the house in La Jolla last year after I signed with San Diego.
It has the Spanish-style architecture that Allie loves, with views of the Pacific from almost every window in the house.
Ro has the entire top floor to herself—for now, at least. We haven’t announced it yet, but I’m sure everyone will put two and two together tonight when they notice Allie swapping her champagne for sparkling cider.
The good news is, we have more than enough bedrooms for however big our family becomes.
We even have two kitchens, though I don’t foresee Allie making much use of them now that she’s officially taken over my mom’s bakery.
Still, she deserved everything she’d ever dreamt of, and I wanted to make sure she had it.
Including me, in a goddamn velvet tuxedo on a scorching afternoon, in the oceanside wedding she’s been envisioning since childhood. Right down to the cupcake tower, the orange tiger lilies and the earth tones, even the wedding taking place right in our backyard.
Because she was always determined to live somewhere this beautiful.
With me, and a family we created. She believed in this future, even when we fell apart, even when we were heartbroken and lost. She never gave up on me, never gave up on us, and it’s all I can do to ensure all her dreams come true, until her very last breath.
The classical music playing fades, morphing into the violin rendition of Ro’s current favorite song. From the opposite end of the sage green runner down the aisle, I see the double doors that lead into our house open as Dom ushers my daughter outside.
Aurora bursts through the doors in her poofy, orange dress, with her small white basket of flower petals in hand.
I bought the sparkly ballet flats she’s wearing a few weeks ago, and it’s been an utter nightmare to keep them off her feet leading up to the wedding so she wouldn’t scuff them.
She was elated when she got to put them on earlier, and I know she’s about to come barreling down that aisle, no matter how many times we went over her duties as flower girl, or the guidance that she’s supposed to walk slowly.
Sure enough, the moment she notices me across the yard, she bounds off the porch steps, sprinting toward me.
Her long hair flies behind her as she runs, the lily petals haphazardly bouncing out of the basket and landing upon the aisle.
I don’t care at all about the chaos of it as I squat down and open my arms for her.
“Daddy!” she yelps as she discards her basket and leaps into my arms.
Everyone laughs, and Willow reaches down to grab the basket as I stand and haul Aurora into my arms.
“Look at you, RoRo.” I cuddle her against me, pressing kisses all over her face. “You look beautiful.”
“I know.” She giggles, wrapping her little arms around my neck.
She tilts her head, blinking at me with her massive blue eyes. My eyes. I brush her dark curls from her face as she giggles again. Her mom’s hair. Her mom’s childlike laughter. Her mom’s fierceness and wild side. Stubbornness and impatience.
Thank God for it.
Where she got her mother’s personality, she wouldn’t be caught dead in the kitchen.
She hates baking, cooking, and anything related to it—with the exception of food itself, obviously.
We put her in dance classes a couple of years ago, but she hated that too.
She’s taken a liking to flag football, and is already demanding to be placed into a tackle league once she’s old enough.
The music fades out again as the piano begins to play, and I shake Ro, summoning her attention as I point toward the double doors she just ran out of that are now opening again. “Mama’s about to come out, Ro,” I whisper as everyone stands and a hush spreads over the area.
“Do you want Uncle Z to hold you?” Zander asks from behind me.
My daughter tightens her hold on me. “No.”
Zander scoffs with deep offense, and I choke back a laugh.
We didn’t do wedding parties, opting to instead just have my brother and Willow with us at the top of the aisle.
They made us promise we’d give them official titles of Maid of Honor and Best Man at our wedding after we made them act as our witnesses when we got legally married in Vegas after my rookie season a few years ago.
Even now, only my siblings, Willow, and their partners know that Allie’s been my wife all this time.
My thoughts stall, my body freezes, and my heart explodes when I watch Allie step out onto our back deck, arm linked with her dad’s. I knew she’d look ethereal and elegant, but despite imagining this very moment since I was a child, I find myself utterly unprepared.
She’s dawned in a beaded white dress with a strapless bodice, and a lace bolero covering her neck with long sleeves that extend down her arms, displaying the soft, golden skin of her chest. The dress hugs her body like a glove, cascading to the ground with a flowing train that stretches out behind her.
Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun, a few ringlets framing her beautiful face, and even from this distance, her smile is radiant.
Her eyes meet mine, and I can’t hear her laugh, but I can see it.
Feel it. That giddy, playful, harmonic soundtrack to my youth, to all my best days.
She’s woven into the fabric of my existence, and while no title, document, or name could ever hold a candle to our destined chemistry, I’ve dreamt of this moment for what feels like eons.
Legal ties to match our cosmic tether.
I don’t realize I’m tearing up until our daughter’s tiny hand begins patting my cheek, and she asks, “Why are you crying, Daddy?”
I look at our beautiful girl, emotion thick in my throat now. “Because Mama’s so pretty.”
“You can’t see her if you’re crying,” she says flippantly, bringing both her hands to my face. Swiping a hand beneath each of my eyes, she adds, “Here, I help you.”
“Thanks, baby.”
Ro wraps her arms back around my neck, nuzzling her face against my cheek as we both watch Allie and her dad move down the aisle. When they reach the end, she hugs Dom, and so do I, before he plants a kiss to Aurora’s cheek and takes his seat.
I shift her into one arm, knowing there is no way she’s going to let me put her down now, and extend my hand toward Allie. She takes it, sparks lighting in my veins when our skin brushes. She steps onto the small platform beneath the arch, and we turn to face each other.
“Hi, Mommy,” Ro says, pressed against my cheek.
“Hi, baby.” Allie smiles, tears glistening in her eyes too. I move to drop her hand, but she grips me tighter. “Hold my hand?” she asks, voice breaking on the question.
I nod, gripping tight, wrapping myself in the touch—the connection of us. The family we’ve created. “Always. Forever.”