Epilogue
Two years later...
GrayG: Big Daddy has landed. Are shenanigans in play tonight?
Looking down at the text I snort but can’t hold back a smile. My thumb taps away at my phone as a woman’s voice buzzes over the speakers to announce the arrival of Gray’s flight from New York City.
IvyMac: There will be no shenanigans if the use of ‘Big Daddy’ comes into said play. That’s a personal foul. 15 yard penalty. Do not pass Go to collect your prize.
GrayG: Aw, but, baby...
IvyMac: NOPE.
GrayG: Just to clarify, putting the perfectly reasonable and technically correct name aside, shenanigans are a go?
Laughing now, I lean back more comfortably in the ugly plastic airport seat and answer.
IvyMac: All night, Cupcake. I can’t wait to taste your frosting.
A couple seconds pass and then:
GrayG: Mac, you sent a dirty text. I just shed a tear of pride. I also have a hard-on. I think the little old lady sitting next to me is checking it out.
IvyMac: *Snicker*
GrayG: Revenge will be mine.
Putting my phone away, I haul myself to my feet. Around me, an endless stream of people flow past, all of them either headed somewhere else or coming home. For most of my life, I was the one coming or going, drifting without realizing it. Now I’m in California, holding down the home fort. Gray and I have lived here ever since he was drafted to play with the 49ers.
I love the Northern California coast. Wild and rugged, with chilly weather and fog that reminds me of England. Gray isn’t so fond of the damp, but he loves soup and deems this the perfect place to make it constantly. Who am I to argue when he’s the one cooking it?
And I love having a home with Gray. While it isn’t exactly close to the stadium, we settled on a renovated Victorian town house in the Pacific Heights section of San Francisco. We love the place. To my surprise, it was Gray who had the most fun combing through flea markets and antique shops to find vintage furniture for our home. Fi helped decorate, and after listening to the two of them squabble over Eames versus Knoll, I bowed out of the project and kept my sanity.
I turn my attention back to the domestic arrivals gate. In the distance, one golden head bobs over all others. My cheeks pull tight with a grin. Slowly, Gray comes into view. His gaze meets mine. As always, I’m suddenly breathless, joy and anticipation fizzing like champagne through my veins.
I’m practically dancing in place, watching him walk to me, his smile as big as mine. He quickens his pace until he’s almost jogging. Those long legs of his eat up the distance between us.
Then his hand is wrapping around my neck, drawing me as close as I can get—which isn’t very.
“Ivy Mac,” he whispers a second before he kisses me. And I’m lost.
Desire surges along my skin and my heart races with glee. I sink into his kiss then take over, tasting him, sucking his plump lower lip. His scent, his heat, the strength of his big body, all of him, flips a switch within me, like I’m not fully living unless he’s near.
“Cupcake,” I say when we part. “I’ve missed you.”
We’ve only been apart for a long weekend, but I always miss Gray when he isn’t near. I would have gone with him, but I’m not up for flying right now.
The corners of his eyes crinkle as he looks down at me. “Missed you too, Mrs. Grayson.”
“How are Anna and Drew?” I ask between the little kisses he keeps giving me.
Last night, Gray called to talk about the fact that Drew had just played the best game of his career. Since I’m his co-agent, I’d been on a conference call with Drew’s GM before the game had even ended. The media was going crazy over his performance, dubbing him the Comeback Kid. Now that his leg had fully healed, he was once again in top form.
“So fucking proud of him,” Gray says into the crook of my neck. He breathes in deep. “Mmm, you smell fantastic, Mac. You been baking?”
“A tray full of warm Sacked Gray donuts are waiting for you at home.”
“Love when you talk dirty to me.” He gives me a leering grin before turning more serious. “How’d it go with Mitchell?”
Brian Mitchell is a hot young quarterback out of Stanford who’s going pro this year. I’d met with him to discuss his future in the NFL. And while it wasn’t the easiest thing being a female sports agent, I’ve been making headway, learning from my dad and forging contacts as I go. I love the hell out of my job.
“He seemed interested,” I say. “Well, he liked the plans I mapped out, anyway.”
“As he should,” Gray says with his unfailing confidence in me.
“I assured him that Dad was on board.” When Gray frowns, I give him a look. “Dad and I are partners, after all.”
Surprisingly, we’re a pretty awesome team. Dad does the majority of recruitment and contract negotiation, while I mostly deal with career planning and player maintenance—which really means I soothe ruffled feathers and try to keep athletes’ heads on straight.
“Still,” Gray mutters. “You shouldn’t have to assure the little shit. You’re the bomb, Mrs. Grayson.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “You can’t blame him for worrying right now. And it was my concession. One I’m happy to make.”
Gray’s scowl fades as he glances down. Oblivious to the people walking past, he drops to his knees before me to cup my belly. Though I vaguely resemble a wind-filled sail, his big hands make me look small. A gentle smile graces his face as he leans forward to kiss my stomach.
“And how’s my Baby G? You being good for Mommy?” A dull thud vibrates my insides as Baby G kicks. Gray chuckles and gives the spot another kiss. “Yep, Daddy’s home. All is right with the world once more.”
I run a soothing hand over my side. At eight and a half months pregnant, I’m ready for the little guy to come out. Fi called us crazy when we decided to have a baby so soon. But something had happened to us after the miscarriage. A seed of want had been planted.
So, yes, we’re both just starting out in our careers, but we also want to start a family. And because we’ve decided to live life how we want, when we want it, we decided not to wait any longer.
It might be difficult. But we’ll manage.
“You don’t find it ominous that Little Dude here kicks your face every time you put it near me?” I ask, smiling down at Gray, who continues to baby talk against my belly.
“You’re just jealous that he responds to my voice,” Gray says happily.
“He responds because your voice is so loud,” I retort, teasing him.
“I’m not the one who’s loud. Have you heard yourself when you—”
I end that line of conversation with a hand to his mouth. Grinning like a fiend, Gray jumps to his feet. People are starting to notice him, or rather who he is. I’m pretty sure a few camera phones went off when he was kissing The Belly. It’s the price of fame. But Gray doesn’t let it bother him. He simply grabs his duffel and takes my hand in his.
“Uncle Drew gave us a little hat for Baby G.” Gray directs this toward my belly as we walk along. “I told him we’d use it for target practice come toilet training.”
“You do realize that I practically grew up in New York, and that’s like my home team?”
He halts and gives me an outraged look. “Hush your mouth, Mac. Little Dude might hear you.”
I roll my eyes. “Won’t matter if he did. Because our favorite team will always be the one you’re on.”
Gray’s eyes light up, but his smile is soft. His bag lands on the linoleum floor with a thud. A little shiver goes through me as he cups my cheeks. His mouth meets mine, the kiss so tender it makes my chest clench, but there’s heat behind it. A promise for later.
When he draws away, his voice is husky. “Take me home, Mac. We’ve got shenanigans to get to.”