by Aly Martinez
I curled my lip in disgust and pleaded with Till. “Make him stop talking about sex.”
“No way. I happen to agree with Q. Besides, you didn’t seem to be embarrassed in the shower this morning.”
My eyes bulged as I glared at him. Flint shook his head, but they all burst out laughing.
You’re so getting cut off for that, I signed behind the boy’s backs.
Liar, he replied with only his hands. Then he stood up from his seat on the couch and dug his wallet out of his back pocket. “Besides, who said I was talking about Flint having a quickie? I was talking to you.” He handed Flint a twenty, but his eyes were glued to mine. “I’m starving. Go grab some pizza, and go to that good place down by the gym. It’s worth the drive.”
“Oh shit! Are you two going to do it?” Quarry asked, looking back and forth between us until Flint slapped him on the back of the head.
“Let’s go.” He grabbed the truck keys off table, and they both headed out the door.
As soon as it clicked behind them, Till was on me. His mouth crushed into mine while he lifted me onto the kitchen counter. I wasn’t going to fight him. We so rarely got time alone that I didn’t even care that he’d just announced to the boys that we were planning to have sex. More embarrassing things had happened.
He moved his mouth to my neck as my hands slid under his shirt and up to his hard abs.
“So I was thinking. Since I won the fight last night, I’m off for a few days.” I wasn’t looking at him, and I wasn’t about to remove my hands to reply, so I hummed my acknowledgement. He continued to kiss my neck. “I know things have been crazy over the last few months, but you’ve been wearing that engagement ring for entirely too long. What do you say we get married tomorrow?”
I jerked my head away to catch his eye. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could hit the courthouse, make it official, then do a big dinner with the boys and Slate and Erica, maybe some of the guys from the gym. Then we could get a hotel room for a couple of nights. Spend some time having way more than quickies.” He bit my bottom lip.
“Tomorrow?” I asked again in shock.
“Tomorrow.”
“But we don’t have rings,” I signed my petty excuse.
He grabbed my hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing my palm. “We’ll get some.”
“Umm . . .” I stalled, but I wasn’t quite sure why. There wasn’t really anything to think about. I’d been married to Till since the first moment I’d laid eyes on him. He hadn’t known it for a long time, but I always had. There was really only answer. “Okay, but hotels are expensive. Let’s just see if the boys can spend a few nights at Slate’s.”
“Stop being a cheapo. We have more than enough in savings to cover something like this. We’re getting married. I want a couple of nights at a nice hotel where we can order up room service and a nice bottle of champagne. Maybe get a little tipsy and spend the rest of the night finding new ways to make each other come. You’ll need the extra day for recovery.”
“All right, baller. Then I want a new dress too.”
“Jesus Christ, Eliza! I’m not made of money.” He winked.
I melted.
“Baby, you can have anything you want if you just promise to marry me tomorrow. I’m not waiting anymore.”
Okay, I signed, unable to speak around the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. I’m so glad you’re back.
“Good. Now, get naked. I’m gonna fuck you one last time as my fiancée.”
I laughed as he peeled my shirt over my head. Then I quieted as he sucked my nipple into his mouth. A few minutes later, I moaned as he made good on his promise and fucked me on our kitchen counter.
In an ill-fitting rented tux and a pair of black Converse shoes, I watched Eliza Reynolds become Eliza Page.
My little courthouse scenario had been quickly nixed when I’d called Slate to invite him to dinner the following day. Erica had gotten her claws in Eliza, and within three hours, they had planned for the entire wedding to take place in the gazebo of Erica’s garden. I had no idea how they’d pulled it together, but by six p.m. that evening, Eliza had walked down a makeshift aisle covered with rose petals. She was wearing a short, strapless, white dress that hugged her body in ways that spoke to my soul—or, at the very least, my cock. Her long hair cascaded over one shoulder, and a sheer veil floated in the breeze behind her.
I was a man. I didn’t cry—at least, not right then. No, I saved that exhibition of manliness for when I actually had to talk and choke over every other word for everyone to hear. I was reasonably sure I’d never live it down. I was also reasonably sure I didn’t give a single fuck.
I was marrying Eliza.
Erica had found a nice officiate who had been instructed to do the traditional wedding vows. But as I stood there looking into those dark-blue eyes that represented the rest of my life, I knew I needed to say something of my own. The problem was figuring out what to say at the moment when every single dream I’d ever had was suddenly realized.
“Excuse me for just a second. Can I say something?” I sucked in a shaky breath. “Eliza, I have absolutely no idea what I did to make you fall in love with me. But I can honestly say that, no matter what happens from this point on, it will always be my greatest accomplishment in this life. You’re incredible, and the fact that someone like you fell for a poor kid in dirty jeans who was too scared to walk through doors proves it.” My voice hitched, and I felt the moisture fall from my traitorous eyes. “When I told you that this”—I pointed to my ears—“was my future, you never batted an eye. And when reality became more than I could handle, you declared war on the inevitable for me. You always say that you love me, but you have given me so much more. And because of that, I will spend a lifetime fighting to give you the world.”
Tears fell from her eyes as she responded with only her hands. I already have it. Then she launched herself into my arms, kissing me way before she was supposed to.
Her hands shook as we exchanged wedding bands. As soon as she settled mine on my ring finger, she broke the unwritten wedding rules yet again by kissing me once more.
We were pronounced husband and wife, and Flint immediately stole my wife in a congratulatory bear hug. Quarry was more excited about dinner, so he gave me a high five and headed inside, where Erica had turned her dining room into a elegant wedding reception.
She and Slate had insisted on paying for dinner as our wedding gift, and I’d begrudgingly agreed when I’d found out she wanted to do something at home. I had been thinking chicken on the grill, but she’d had other ideas. By all accounts, she had gone overboard. It was less than ten people, but she had three private chefs and a cupcake tower that was roughly as tall as Eliza. When my jaw dropped after seeing what she had put together, Slate pulled me aside, slapped a beer in my hand, and told me to keep my mouth shut. He had never steered me wrong before, so I did just that.
At the end of the evening, Johnson drove Eliza and me to our hotel. It was a nice place, and I smiled proudly as Eliza oohed and ahhed over every thing. Then I made sure she oohed and ahhed under me when I took her against the wall for the first time as my wife.
Hours later, as we lay in bed naked, we removed our rings and read what the other had inscribed inside.
Hers: My wildest fantasy.
Mine: This is reality.
That day had been such a surreal combination of the two that I’m still not sure who was right.
FOR THREE FULL MONTHS AFTER the wedding, our lives became blissfully boring. I found an accounting job I hated, Flint graduated high school, Quarry was starting to draw national attention in the amateur boxing circuit, and Till . . . Well, he smiled more often than not. And with another win under his belt, his career was looking even more promising—each fight bringing in more money than the last. There was money in the bank, food on the table, and plans to move out of our crappy apartment as soon as we could find a house to rent. For the first time in as long as
I could remember, life was easy.
That was until one Friday night when Quarry came down with the stomach flu. It quickly ravaged its way through Flint and Till. I served as a nurse to all three of them until I got sick too. As the guys got better, the roles were reversed. While I thought it was really sweet to watch them all coddle me, I showed no signs of improvement after a full week. It honestly appeared that I was getting worse. Then Till really began to worry and finally dragged me to the doctor.
“Are you freaking out?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
Till’s lips twisted in a one-sided smile. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re totally freaking out.”
He sat down on the edge of the examination table and squeezed my hand. “Doodle, are you freaking out?”
I sucked in a deep breath before the floodgates failed me. “Yes!” I cried as I dropped my head against his chest.
I felt his shoulders shake before I heard his quiet chuckle.
I sat up back up, sniffling. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because after everything we’ve been through, you decide to freak out about being pregnant? I’m happy and my little Miss Fix It is panicking. I’m sorry, but that’s funny.”
“You’re happy?” My voice squeaked at the end.
“Um . . . why wouldn’t I be happy? My wife is pregnant, and I’m finally at a point in my life where I think we could afford to start a family. It might not be ideal timing, but who cares? It’s not the wrong time either. We’ll make it work. It’s what we do.”
“You know, I’m really not fond of this sensible Till.”
He barked out a laugh. “You’re okay. I’m okay.” He reached down and placed his hand over my stomach. “We’re okay.” Kissing the top of my head, he said, “Nothing else matters.”
The familiar words soothed my nerves.
There was a knock on the door, and I nudged him off the table. The doctor and nurse came in pushing a large cart that nearly filled the crowded room. Till scooted back against the wall to allow them more room, and I felt the loss of his comfort even though he was only a few feet away.
“Okay, Mrs. Page. Since you don’t know how far along you are, we are going to do a quick ultrasound to see if we can get a fetal measurement and estimate a due date.”
I nodded with my eyes glued to Till. I was so nervous, and apparently, it read on my face. He quirked a smile and signed, I’ve heard pregnant woman are horny all the time. This could really work in my favor.
My faced heated, and I prayed that no one in the room understood sign language. Till was entirely too far away, and as the doctor lubed up my stomach, I motioned for him to join me. With a smirk, he squeezed his muscular body around the doctor and took my hand, kissing my palm.
From our vantage point, we couldn’t see the screen, but the doctor squinted and leaned in closer with the every twitch of his wrist.
“When did you say your last period was?” he asked.
“About two weeks ago.”
“And you were on birth control, right?” he asked, still staring at the screen.
“Yeah. The pill.”
“That was definitely just breakthrough bleeding, then. It appears that you’re around eight weeks.” He reached forward and turned a tiny knob.
A beautiful whooshing sound filled the room. A hand flew to my mouth as my eyes began to swim.
Till gripped my hand and nervously asked, “What?”
The heartbeat, I signed unable to say the words then made a flashing sign by opening and closing my fist to the rhythm of the sound.
Till’s face formed a fake smile that proved he knew exactly what he was missing and he fucking hated it.
Thankfully, the doctor must have seen our exchange. “Here.” He turned the monitor to face us. “You can see it on the screen.” He placed his finger below a tiny blinking light.
Nothing about that black-and-white image was even remotely recognizable as a baby, but its little heart still beat steadily. It made sense. It was Till’s baby; the heart had always been his most defining feature.
Till gasped as he pulled my hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly. He silently stared at that screen until the doctor turned it away, and even then, he moved toward my feet in order to keep it in his line of sight.
“Can you tell if it’s a girl?” he asked.
The doctor snickered before turning to face him and shaking his head no.
“No, it’s not a girl, or no, you can’t tell?”
“It’s way too soon to tell,” he replied.
Till’s eyes flashed to mine for the translation.
At the answer, he released a loud breath and raked a hand through his hair. “Okay. I’m gonna need it to be a girl, and if you could sway that for me, I’d really appreciate it.”
The doctor laughed as he handed Till a few grainy pictures that would serve absolutely no purpose other than wasting hours of our time as we tried to make out the nonexistent shape of our baby. Maybe that made them the most precious pictures of all though.
“Go ahead and get dressed. Everything looks great, and we can discuss details and future appointments in my office.” The doctor walked out of the room, leaving us both still shocked and emotional in his wake.
I waved a hand to catch Till’s attention, but when he looked up, his eyes had lost their playfulness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He swallowed hard before painting on a painful-looking smile. “Way better than okay,” he responded unconvincingly.
“Till . . .”
“Come on. I want to hear what he has to say about my daughter.” He turned away from me, halting any further conversation.
I became instantly worried that Till had joined me on the freak-out train. I threw my clothes on as he stood with his back toward me, but I could see his eyes focused on the pictures in his hand. As I got close, I reached out and traced a hand down his shoulder. He caught my arm and spun, wrapping it around his neck.
“We’re gonna have a baby,” he choked out with that a one-sided grin of Till the boy. I was transported in time to the moment I’d fallen in love with him.
“I want to buy a house with a big yard. I want to put a huge swing set out back and get one of those stupid tea sets.”
I pushed my hands in front of the paper and signed, I kinda want a boy.
His eyes snapped to mine.
“One with your hazel eyes and that crooked grin.”
“No way. She needs to be smart like you.”
“No way. He needs to have your heart,” I countered.
“We’re having a baby,” he repeated, but it wasn’t said with happiness or even fear. It was said with pride and victory. “When I first lost my hearing, I stayed awake one night freaking out about the fact that our kids might have to deal with this one day.” He pointed to his ears. “But, Eliza, who cares? Look how perfect she is.” He held the picture up.
“Till, listen to me. He—”
He narrowed his eyes.
“—won’t ever have to experience this. Quarry either. They can get the implant. You’ve shouldered this for everyone. You wanted to give us all a better life. And you’ve done it. We aren’t millionaires, but we’ve made it. The only question now is: When does Till get the better life?”
“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?” SLATE asked as soon I walked into his office.
“Seen what?” I replied.
He turned his laptop around to face me, and I immediately recognized the still preview. It was the setup of amateur night at On The Ropes. He pressed play and I watched myself rise from the corner stool. My eyes were glaring across the ring.
I leaned in close to the computer and could barely make out Eliza seated with Derrick Bailey at her side. His arm was around the back of her chair, and even though I knew it had been well over two years since that night, the same rage bubbled in my stomach. Both on the screen and in the present, I watched Eliza until Rick “The Brick Wa
ll” Matthews rush toward me.
I saw my attention only leave her long enough to step forward and throw two punches—which dropped Matthews to the mat. I didn’t even stay to celebrate my win. I simply stormed back to the corner and started pulling off my gloves. I could still feel my desperation to get her away from him. Justified desperation.
The video suddenly cut off, and I looked up at Slate as I arrogantly dusted off my shoulder. He let out a silent laugh.
“I woke to a million phone calls and emails this morning. This thing has been viewed over a million times in twenty-four hours.”
“Nice!” I smiled and pressed play again.
“People are going nuts trying to find out more about the only man to ever drop The Brick Wall.”
I lifted my eyebrows in shock. “Really?”
“His balls are aching.”
“I can’t blame him.” I watched as he once again crumbled while I walked away unfazed.
“He has built an empire on the fact that no one can knock him out.”
I rolled my eyes and pressed play again. Each time, only watching her.
Slate shoved a hand in front of the screen. “Apparently, he’s catching a lot of shit over this little video. It was played on a loop on ESPN last night while he was on a phone interview.”
My eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”
He wants a rematch.
Time froze.
Dollar signs flashed.
My smile grew.
“I told him to go fuck himself.”
I jumped to my feet. “Why?” I yelled. “Call him back!”
“No title on the line and they want to pay you shit. You made more at your last fight.”
I rolled my bottom lip between my fingers. “Can we negotiate pay? How big of a fight are we talking? Vegas?”
“Potentially. His image is hurting. They are going to want to make this huge. Listen to me. They are trying to use you like a bum to save his reputation, and if you lose, that is exactly what you will become.”
But what Slate couldn’t possibly know was that, in the span of twenty-four hours, my priorities had dramatically shifted.
