by L. M. Carr
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry.” He wipes away the lone teardrop with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry I neglected you tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t profess my love for you from the podium like I should have. Mostly, I’m sorry you doubt my love for you. You are my one and only. No one else matters.”
Unable to control my emotions, I rest my cheek against his shoulder and let the stream of tears rush down my face.
While we continue to dance slowly, the song changes and Julian sings along, telling the story of loving someone to the point of obsession. I free my hand and wipe my tears.
“Is it like this for everyone?” I ask, returning my gaze to his face.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. People talk about obsessions like it’s a bad thing. I’ll happily admit that I’m obsessed with you. I think about you all the time. I want to fuck you every chance I get.” A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Maybe I need professional help.”
His comment brings a smile to my face and laughter to my lips. “I feel the same way about you. I always have, and the thought of not being with you scares me to death.”
“Baby, I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”
Julian takes a step back and releases my hand. “In fact…” He reaches into his front pocket before dropping down to one knee in front of me.
The air in my lungs whooshes out. My eyes widen and hands cover my mouth, a fresh wave of tears starting to fall.
“The first time I ever laid eyes on you, you were kicking the soccer ball around in the middle of the football field. Someone yelled for you to move, but you didn’t listen. You continued to kick and run like you were dodging an opponent.”
I smile in remembrance.
“You didn’t stop until you kicked it through the goal post and threw your arms into the air. You cheered like you’d just won the World Cup.
“Even back then, you didn’t let any obstacles stand in your way. You were always so determined.” A little smile appears. “I’m so grateful that, regardless of my own efforts to keep you away, you held onto our love and waited. You now have everything.”
“And what exactly would everything be, Julian?” I whisper.
Producing a delicate ring I recognize immediately as his mother’s, he says, “A beautiful life with a man who loves you beyond measure. A love so intense it makes me weak in the knees. My promise to have and to hold you. To love, honor and cherish you for all the days of my life.”
I’m rendered speechless when he grasps my hand and starts kissing each of my fingertips.
“Be my yesterday.” Kiss.
“Be my today.” Kiss.
“Be my tomorrow.” Kiss.
“Be my always.” Kiss.
“Be my wife.” Kiss.
“Will you marry me, Addison Jane?”
I have fantasized about this day nearly my entire life. In my mind, I’ve watched Julian get down on bended knee and ask me to be his bride countless times. I’ve imagined what the ring would look like, what I thought I would feel. But this… This is so much more. This is everything my wildest dreams couldn’t even imagine.
“Yes, Julian! I would be honored to be your wife!”
On the ring finger of my left hand, Julian places a simple, yet exquisite one carat solitaire encased by a circle of smaller gems. With the ring in place, he kisses it, then drags his glistening eyes to mine.
“It was my mother’s,” he chokes out.
“I remember,” I cry as I fall to my knees and rake my fingers through his hair.
His mouth crashes against mine in a panicked frenzy. It’s like he’s drowning and needs air. The kiss is desperate as his tongue swirls with mine in an erotic dance. One hand grips my back while the other lands on my ass. He yanks me close and moans.
“Take me to bed.”
§
Two hours later, I lie in Julian’s arms, feeling thoroughly fucked and utterly happy.
“I can’t believe we’re engaged,” I say, stretching out my arm to admire my ring, then roll over and kiss his lips. “Oh, my god! I need to call Naomi.”
He smirks. “She already knows.”
“What?” I narrow my eyes playfully. “But how? You just asked me a couple hours ago.”
His eyes lock with mine. “Who do you think lit the candles?”
“So something didn’t really come up with Nolan?”
Julian shrugs. “I have no idea.”
I hum thoughtfully. “I’m actually a little surprised she agreed to help you. She thinks we’re moving too fast.”
“If I didn’t need to wrap things up back in California, I would’ve asked you the night I saw you at the restaurant.”
I laugh hysterically. “You’re joking! Good thing you didn’t because I probably would’ve called 911 and had you committed.”
“Addison, we’ve always been connected…even when we were apart.”
§
The next morning, I wake up to a flurry of congratulatory text messages from Naomi. I answer them, then walk to the kitchen to make pancakes for breakfast. Julian, wearing a pair of black basketball shorts and nothing else, shuffles into the kitchen, a binder tucked beneath his arm. He kisses the back of my head and steals a strip of bacon.
“I need you to look at something for me.”
“Sure, fiancé. Whatever you need,” I sing sweetly as I pile a stack of pancakes onto a plate and hand it to him.
“You’re too good to me! But I’ve got to start working out if I want to be able to keep up with the guys at training camp.”
I scoff, point the spatula at his hard abs, then return my attention to the griddle. “Keep up with them? You’re the coach, Julian. You tell them what to do, not do it with them.”
“Nope.” He turns the bottle of syrup upside down and squeezes an ungodly amount over his breakfast. “In order for them to listen and learn, they have to trust me. I have to show them I am one of them.”
I don’t ever recall any of Rence’s coaches taking that approach. Most were screamers who rarely doled out a compliment. They pushed and pushed until spirits were broken.
Sitting beside him with my own plate, I look over when he opens the binder.
“These are some plays I’ve been working on for offense. Doug’s working on defense.” Julian slides the butter knife into his mouth and licks it clean.
“Be careful! You’re going to cut your tongue!”
His eyes cut to mine. “Now that would be a tragedy.”
I cross my legs to quell the throb at the memory of his tongue sliding against my core. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Using the knife to point, he explains the play, gesturing to all the X’s and O’s he’s penciled in. “Then he’d zigzag and run parallel at the thirty.”
I take a moment to process the play. Taking the knife from his hand, I point and slide. “Or you could send the wide receiver down the field and keep the running back open in the middle. These guys here…” I point to the defensive players represented by O’s, “will have their eyes down here.” I point down the field.
Julian blinks rapidly as he processes the play, then nods. “I like it. It’s good.”
We spend some time reviewing the rest of his playbook. Not only have I grown up around the game, it’s my job. When I go into the locker rooms for coaches’ meetings after the games, there isn’t anyone telling me what to ask. Even though my on-air time is sometimes limited, the hours I put in beforehand and afterward are long and arduous.
“How’s the roster looking?” I ask casually as I grab the plates and load the dishwasher. I’m curious to know if a deal to acquire Rence has been finalized yet. My brother has been extremely tight-lipped about the whole thing, but his agent has been in talks with the general manager, who usually defers to Julian.
“Are you asking about anyone in particular?” he teases. “Rence has agreed to do a few more exercises and have a few more tests done.”
My brows furrow. “Tests? What kinds of
tests?”
“Mostly performance. Agility, speed, strength.”
I blow out a breath. “Oh.”
“Let’s be honest, Addison. He’s not the youngest guy on the field, so we need to make sure we’re getting our money’s worth...”
I nod. “You’re right, but he’s still got a few years before retirement. When you said tests, I thought it was something else.” I point to my temple and tap several times. “He’s so temperamental and moody lately.”
“We are talking about your brother, right?” Julian chastises with a chuckle. “He’s always temperamental and moody.”
“Maybe this thing with Mallory will be good for him. This could be a game changer. Settle down, get married, have a couple of kids.”
“Not before we do.”
I purse my lips and shake my head. “It’s not a competition.”
“For Rence and me, it was always about competition. I remember he was so mad when I told him I was going to ask you out.” He smiles at the memory. “I think he thought I was taking you away from him. You two were so close.”
“We had to be…especially growing up in that house.”
“You know, it’s strange. I don’t really ever remember seeing your parents argue.”
My gaze drops and I sigh. “That’s because they didn’t do it when people were around. After all, it was, and I quote, ‘The Hamilton Home’. We needed to keep up appearances.”
Julian’s cell phone rings. I pick it up and hand it to him. Keeping his eyes on me, he answers the phone and walks around the kitchen.
“Richie, good to hear from you. How are you?”
I continue straightening up while Julian listens and nods, making little grunting noises.
“Yeah, that might be something we’re interested in. Send me your stats for the last three years and a couple highlights from last season.” Julian’s eyebrows shoot up at something Alonzo says. “No,” he snickers sarcastically. “That’s not how this works.”
When he hangs up, Julian huffs with exasperation.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Who’s questioning?” He slides his hands around my waist from behind, his breath at my ear. “Addison, my fiancée, or AJ, the sports reporter?”
“She’s one and the same.”
He shakes his head. “I can tell my girl anything, but AJ is a hard-nosed journalist. She’s a barracuda when it comes to getting the top stories and inside scoop.”
I giggle when he peppers my neck with light kisses. “Are you referring to the interview?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll have you know, I tried hard to get out of that assignment.”
He spins me around quickly and pulls my body flush with his. “Aren’t you glad you didn’t?”
I lift a shoulder and smirk, jabbing his chest with my index finger. “You never answered all of my questions anyway.”
“I’ll answer any question you ask,” he shoots back, staring at me pointedly.
The look in his eye catches me slightly off guard. I feel like there are some questions that just shouldn’t be asked.
I lift up on the tips of my toes and kiss his lips. “Luckily for you, I can’t think of any right now.”
§
Late Sunday afternoon, I look up from the multiple emails occupying space on my laptop and glance over my shoulder to find Julian emerging from our bedroom wearing a t-shirt, shorts and sneakers.
“Going for a run?”
He leans over the back of the couch and kisses me on the forehead. “Wanna come?”
“Already did, thank you very much.” I grin.
“I won’t be gone long. Just a few miles.”
He walks into the kitchen to refill his water bottle while I click open an email, smiling when I see it. “Hey! Guess what?”
“What’s that?”
“You know how I bid on you at the auction?”
He hums as he strides into the room, a smirk on his face.
My eyes flash upward. “What’s that look for?”
He laughs. “Nothing. What were you going to tell me about the auction?”
“I won! I was the highest bidder.” I set my laptop aside and stand, sliding my arms around his waist. I lower my voice and look up at him. “I get four hours of service from you.”
He lowers his mouth to mine and murmurs, “That’s good to know because I won you, too.”
I pull back. “What?”
He shrugs. “I may or may not have bribed the auctioneer.”
“Julian, what did you do?” I chuckle.
His bottom lip juts out as he tries to feign innocence. I dig my fingertips into his waist and tickle him.
“Okay, okay!” he laughs. “Once the auction ended, I offered a thousand dollars above the highest bid on each of us, then threw in a few home games in a luxury suite. He couldn’t resist.”
I slap his chest playfully. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“You think I was going to let Asher get anywhere near you?”
I freeze, stomach roiling. “Ed Asher bid on me?”
Julian stares down at me. “He’s a sick bastard. I will keep him away from my fiancée if it’s the last thing I do.”
I give him a silent nod before something occurs to me. “Wait. I wasn’t your fiancée when you did this.”
“Minor technicality. You were always going to be my wife.”
I rest my cheek against his chest and tighten my arms around him.
“And there was no way I was going to give Georgina any more of my time,” he adds.
“She still loves you.”
“No, she doesn’t. She never really did. She loved the attention she got from being with me.”
I’m sure there were countless number of faceless women who slept with Julian in the hopes of gaining attention or using him to make connections.
“I hate them. I hate what they stand for and the people they hurt.”
He softly kisses the top of my head. “They can’t hurt us again.”
I give his waist a squeeze, then step back. “Give me two minutes to change. I think I’ll join you.”
“You think you can still outrun me?”
Accepting the challenge, I raise my eyebrow. “Let’s see… When was the last time you beat me in a sprint?” I tap my chin with my index finger thoughtfully. “I can’t remember…”
“You’re on!” Julian smiles.
“Winner takes all?”
He wraps his arms around my waist, his hand landing on my ass. A sexy smirk spreads across his face. “Winner…takes…all.”
Chapter Twenty
The next several months pass quickly. By late June, the heat of Texas beating down on us, Julian and I ease into a routine, the combination of our long days at work and my travel schedule making us appreciate the time we have together.
There has been no further correspondence from the anonymous source. While I still don’t know why the images were sent, I push the thoughts out of my mind, especially now that a colleague is currently dealing with her own case of voyeurism. Her private moments—sex, showers, sleep—all captured on video for the world to see. The IT guy at Naomi’s office offered to continue to try and discover the identity of the person, but I have more important things to worry about. If the unknown sender wanted the images to get out, I think it would’ve happened by now. Maybe it was Justin. His behavior toward me had escalated into harassment, and when I filed a complaint, Wes transferred him. And it’s no secret that being Julian’s fiancée means I am the city’s Golden Girl.
“Knock, knock!” I say, peeking into Julian’s office, the construction crew working around me. I don’t know how he can work with all the hammering, sawing, stapling.
Looking up from the paperwork on his desk, he smiles and clicks his computer mouse. “Hey, gorgeous.”
Two men sit in front of his desk. I recognize one as Ray, the general manager of the team, but the other is unfamiliar. My steps are slow and hesitan
t. “Is this a bad time?”
The men share a quick look and close their laptops before pushing out of their seats and walking toward me.
“Good to see you, AJ,” Ray says with a smile. “You keeping this guy in line?”
“I’m trying,” I reply lightly.
“Addison, this is Dr. Keller,” Julian interjects.
The man extends a hand. He’s tall with wavy blond hair that touches the collar of his shirt. He looks too young to be a doctor. Maybe an internship?
“Hi. Please, call me Sean.”
I shake his hand and smile. “Hello.”
Julian waits for the two men to exit the room before he rounds the corner of his desk and reaches out to secure my waist, pulling me to him. “I’m happy to see you.”
A smirk appears when I feel his erection. “Seriously?”
“I can’t help that you’re so fucking sexy.”
I place the bag in my hand on the desk. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”
Julian smiles, sliding his hand up my thigh, eyes darkening. “I did, but I could eat a snack.”
I slap his hand away. “Not going to happen. There are a million guys walking around out there.”
“Can’t blame me for trying,” he chuckles.
“It looks like they’re making good progress out there,” I say, glancing to where the locker room is undergoing some renovations. Once named head coach, Julian made it clear that he wanted to revitalize the franchise by creating a sense of transparency, setting a new tone and changing the mentality of “each man for himself”. Football isn’t just a game. It is family.
Many of the walls have been knocked down, then rebuilt to accommodate the updated floor plan, repainted with the team’s logo and several murals of former players. Noticeably absent on the wall is Julian’s face. When I asked him about it, he said he wanted to leave his mark as coach.
“Well, since you’ve had lunch, you might enjoy this.” I pull out a Tupperware container and set it on the desk next to my salad.
His eyes widen. “Peach cobbler?”
I smile. “Of course. I mean, it is your favorite.”
“Hey, Jeff! Close my door, please,” he calls to one of the carpenters, who quickly complies. Julian smirks as he reaches for a small, black remote, pressing a button. Black shades lower, slowly covering the windows in his office.
