Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3)

by Isabelle Richards

  Ari kisses my cheek when I get to the end of the stage. Looking over my shoulder, I waggle my eyebrows at the sea of reporters, then I dip Ari and kiss her. That should answer a few of their questions.

  She smiles at me as we break our kiss. “Show off.”

  “You’re damn right I am. You got a problem with that?”

  She leans up and kisses me again.

  I guess not!

  Ari and I slip into the green room and take a few questions from reporters with whom we have a personal relationship. During the Q&A, Ari taps on her watch, and I motion to Shelly that she needs to wrap it up. Our day was already packed before I decided to squeeze in a quick retirement press conference, but we really didn’t have any choice in the matter. This had to be done now, or not at all, and not at all was not an option for me. We quickly say good-bye then fight through the building to the limo waiting at the curb, stopping to sign autographs along the way.

  “As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re handling your retirement way better than I did,” she says after we slide into the backseat.

  “You can’t really compare the two. The situations are completely different.”

  “Not really, not at the heart of it. We were both at the top of our game, with so much left to accomplish, and forced to end it all early because of situations beyond our control.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I take her hand then bring it to my lips. “You were alone when you retired. You had to make all the decisions and go through the process all on your own. I have you by my side, which is a total game changer. If you weren’t here, I would have gone out last night and drank until dawn and been hungover for this press conference. If you haven’t realized it yet, Blondie, everything in life is easier when we deal with it together. I couldn’t do this without you.”

  “You wouldn’t have to do this without me.”

  I put my finger to her lips. “We’re not having that conversation again. I’m so fucking happy right now. The wedding is a week away, we’re on our way to look at our babies, and in a few days, you’ll be the owner of the Niners.”

  She holds up her hands. “Slow down there. That’s still a thousand steps and a million what ifs away. We still need Eckert to confirm he’s going to present my application at the membership meeting next week. Even after he does that, they can still vote no. I’d be the youngest person to ever own a team. The closest is Dan Tyler the owner of Washington’s team, and after the mess he turned out to be, they might be hesitant. He was at least a self-made millionaire. He practically started media for Christ’s sake. What have I done?”

  I put my arm around her shoulder. “Do not sell yourself short. You’re a brilliant, savvy businesswoman. Sure, he built a multi-billion-dollar company—which is now obsolete, I might add—but based on the way he runs his team, his skills do not translate over to sports. You understand the business and the athletics. You have more football knowledge in your baby toe than Tyler does in his whole body. It’s a crime to put the two of you in the same sentence, let alone compare you. In fact, I bet they vote you in just so you can up the football intelligence quotient of the group.”

  She nibbles her lip. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  The limo pulls up in front of our doctor’s building.

  “There are so many good things happening right now. We don’t need to stress about the things we can’t control because no matter where life takes us, we’ll be together, so I know everything will be perfect.” I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. “No more stress, okay?”

  She nods. “No more stress.”

  *****

  Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp. Whomp.

  That sound stops my heart every time. This is our third ultrasound, and instead of getting accustomed to it, I’m more and more awestruck each time.

  The ultrasound tech maneuvers the wand over Ari’s stomach. “Here are your babies!”

  My breath hitches when I look at the screen. They’ve gone from blobs to looking like actual babies. There are arms and legs, and I think I can make out an ear.

  Overcome with emotion, I kiss Ari. “Thank you!”

  She smiles. “For what?”

  “For drinking cashew smoothies even when the smell makes you gag. For sprinkling flax seed on everything even though it tastes like saw dust. For doing everything you can to give our babies a safe place to grow. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She leans forward slightly and kisses me.

  “I can’t believe how much they’ve grown,” I say, returning my attention to the screen.

  Ari clutches my hand. “Oh my god, look at the little fingers!”

  The tech points at the screen. “You may not be able to feel this just yet, but if you look here, you can see they’re kicking.”

  I step closer to the monitor to get a better look. “It looks like they’re kicking each other.”

  Ari giggles. “Yup, they’re our kids.”

  I watch the two of them go at it. “We’re in so much trouble if they’re anything like you and I were.” I turn toward the tech. “Are they okay? Can they get hurt?”

  The tech smiles. “It’s perfectly normal. We want movement. It’s a good thing. And they say the more the twins interact in utero, the closer they’ll be after they’re born.”

  As soon as I found out we were having twins, I wondered if they’d be like Charlie and me. We have a bond, a connection that’s really hard to explain, but one I couldn’t imagine living without. She knows what I’m feeling without me having to say a word. And when she’s happy, I feel it. When she’s upset, I experience it at some level. I don’t feel her physical pain per se, but I can feel her stress in such a way that I know she’s hurting. The day she gave birth was a bitch for me too. I hope our kids have that kind of bond. I never want them to feel alone, and as long as they have each other, they won’t.

  Of course, one of the reasons Charlie and I work so well is we’ve never competed against each other—she had her niche and I had mine. Constantly supporting each other was easy. Our twins are identical, so they may end up loving the same things. Couple that with both of their parents having a borderline-unhealthy drive and competitive spirit, and things could get ugly.

  The tech clicks around on the machine, taking measurements, I think. “In a few more weeks, we’ll be able to tell the genders if you want to know.”

  I look at Ari. “Do we want to know?”

  Nibbling her lip, Ari ponders the question. “Ummm… I don’t know. It’s one of the few surprises in life. But on the other hand, we’ve had a lot of surprises this year. Being able to plan might be nice.”

  “Don’t worry, you don’t have to decide now.” The tech wipes the gel off Ari’s stomach. “Your babies look perfect. Their growth is right on target. You can get dressed, and the doctor will be in a moment.” She walks toward the door then stops. “Oops, I almost forgot.” She pulls a piece of paper off of her folder then hands it to Ari. “For your scrapbook.”

  I look over Ari’s shoulder at the ultrasound picture as the tech leaves the room.

  “They kind of look like aliens,” she says as she studies the picture.

  “They’re our kids. It’s genetically impossible for them not to be gorgeous,” I whisper then kiss her cheek.

  “Let’s hope they don’t inherit your ego,” she says with a laugh.

  “My ego is awesome. It’s one of the best things about me.”

  She snorts. “I rest my case.”

  A moment later, the door opens, and the doctor pops in. “Congratulations on making it to the second trimester! Now that you’ve made it this far, the risk of any trouble drops from seventeen percent to less than two percent. I’m not going to say you’re totally in the clear, but we can breathe a little easier now.” She sits on the stool next to Ari. “How’s the morning sickness?”

  Ari scoffs. “You mean all-day sickness? Everyone says it goes away in the second trimester, but I haven�
�t experienced that yet. I feel nauseated all the time. My nutritionist and I worked out a diet plan and I stick to it, forcing myself to eat even when I feel sick, but it’s hard. Especially now that I’ve just done the second trimester calorie bump.”

  The doctor purses her lips as she looks at Ari’s file. “You haven’t gained as much weight as I would like. Are you exercising?”

  “Every day,” Ari replies. “I do yoga two or three times a day, and I run between five to seven miles four days a week. On the off days, I do Pilates. I’ve also started some kung fu exercises. Should I cut back?”

  She closes the file then looks at Ari. “No, the exercise is good. I’m comfortable with you running until about twenty weeks, but by then, you’ll probably be too uncomfortable to run anyway. The pressure on your pelvis will make running really unpleasant. But I think we need to bump up your calories. Your exercise is perfectly appropriate, but because you’re an athlete, I think we need to account for your faster metabolism. How are you managing stress? That can be a huge factor in low weight gain.”

  Ari chuckles. “What do you think the kung fu is for?”

  Dr. Schultz glares at her. “You need to slow down. I know you lead a demanding life, but you two babies inside you that have demands too.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Ari’s face falls, and I can see her doubting herself. She’s been putting so much pressure on herself to do everything perfectly perfect during this pregnancy. The stress of that alone is probably doing a number on her.

  I put my arm around her. “Ari’s being modest right now. She’s a pregnancy rock star. I don’t think you’ve ever had a patient who follows every single order to the letter of the law like Ari does. The diet rules her life. She makes sure she gets the right amount of iron and all the Bs and folic acid every day. She makes sure she gets into bed early every night. Yeah, there’s a lot of stress right now. We’re getting married next week, I retired today, and—”

  Dr. Schultz scowls. “Yeah, about that. I had you in my keeper league. A little heads-up would have been nice.”

  “You play fantasy football?” Ari asks in disbelief. “I didn’t peg you as the type.”

  “Champion three years running.” She beams. “Doesn’t look like I’m going to make it four now that you’ve left me high and dry, but I’ll try to get over it.”

  I wink at her. “I’ll send some insider info your way to make up for it.”

  “Deal!” She turns to Ari. “Now, back to you. It’s not uncommon for some women to have trouble gaining weight. Just work at it, and we’ll get you there. The babies are growing just as we’d hope, so you have nothing to worry about yet. You’re not really showing much yet, but you should expect your stomach to pop out any day now.” She snaps her fingers. “You’ll go from tiny pooch to full-on bump overnight. I hope you factored that into your wedding dress plans.”

  “I’m stopping by the seamstress to pick up my dress today.” She taps her chin. “But I wonder if I should pick up a back-up dress just in case.”

  Worry lines crinkle across her forehead as the gears of stress turn in her head. After all the dress drama she’s had, this is the last thing I want her worrying about.

  “I know you’ve had more than your fair share of drama over your dress,” I say. “Everyone makes such a big deal about the moment the groom sees the bride walk down the aisle, the I’m-the-luckiest-man-in-the-world-because-this-beautiful-woman-has-agreed-to-be-with-me thing. But I don’t need to see you in a fancy dress to get that. I feel that way every time you walk in a room. I’d marry you in this paper gown. So don’t stress about it. No matter what you’re wearing, you will be perfect.”

  Before Ari can reply, Dr. Schultz says, “It’s official—he’s a keeper.” She pats my back. “Come see me in a few weeks. I can’t wait to hear all about the wedding.”

  Just as the doctor leaves the room, Ari’s phone rings. I grab it from her purse then look at the screen.

  “It’s them.” I hand her the phone. “Good luck.”

  Crossing her fingers, she takes a deep breath. “This is Arianna.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chase

  After we leave Dr. Schultz’s, Ari and I head to my parents’ house. Everyone gushes over the ultrasound, then Charlie and Ari mention they’re going to head downtown to pick up their dresses. Mom wants to go with them to see Ari’s dress, but I need her for a minute. Charlie and Ari take Heisman for a walk while Mom and I go into the kitchen to talk.

  I pull out her chair, then I sit across from her at the table. “Eckert called. He’s going to present Ari to the owners next week. Apparently, she has to sit through hours of questions. It’s going to be grueling. She’s going to need to spend the next few days preparing with Oscar.”

  Resting her elbows on the table, Mom’s eyes bulge out. “Chase, you’re getting married in eight days. You don’t have time for this.”

  “I know. I swear Eckert’s doing it on purpose. He could have easily scheduled her any time during the second week of meetings, after the wedding, but he insisted the presentation had to be on Wednesday. When she reminded him about the wedding, he said she can show up to defend herself or not. It’s up to her to decide how important the team is to her.”

  “That man… he’d better hope I never run into him in a dark alley. I suppose we’re lucky he didn’t schedule her on Saturday.” Shaking her head, Mom sighs. “It’s horrible timing, but she needs to go. When will you get to Dillon?”

  “Since we have to apply for the marriage license in person, we’re flying in on Tuesday on the way to the meeting in Boca. Oscar said to assume the presentation and interviews will last two days, so we’ll charter a flight out probably Thursday night.”

  Mom purses her lips. “So you’ll miss the paintball tournament and karaoke night. Which is fine. Most of the guests aren’t getting there until Friday anyway. It’ll be okay. Bryan, Charlie, and I will hold down the fort.”

  “The doctor warned us Ari needs to limit her stress. Instead, between the wedding and the presentation, we’re quadrupling it. So from here on out, don’t go to Ari for anything. I’m the captain of Team Wedding. All decisions, questions, issues, and problems go through me. Whatever comes up, I’ll figure it out. I’m your go-to guy.”

  Mom puts her hand over mine. “You help Ari with the football stuff. Charlie, Bryan, and I have the wedding under control.”

  “Just give me a rundown in case she asks for an update.”

  “Give me a sec.” She runs off to her office and returns with her MacBook. She boots it up then scrolls until she finds the file she’s looking for. “Okay, at the RSVP deadline, we had 167 guests. The tent company should arrive tomorrow, and Bryan’s on top of that.”

  “Fantastic. I can’t wait to see this glamping thing.”

  “Me too. He’s had his staff running around to all the local furniture stores and flea markets and church yard sales looking for things to decorate the tents with to give them a Texas feel. I’m pretty impressed with what he’s come up with.

  “Uncle Clay is managing all the food other than the reception.” She turns the computer to face me, showing me a map of “Weddingville.” She points at the area marked Four. “The tents will be set up over here. Then people can either walk or take the shuttles to the pasture closest to the house where tent two will be, not to be confused with tent one, which is the reception tent all the way across the property on pasture six.”

  “I just see one big rectangle. Where do you see different pastures?”

  “They’re there, trust me. And we’ll have maps and signs. No one will get lost, not even Boomer.”

  I snicker. “I could totally see him calling for help after wandering a few hours in the wrong direction.”

  “Maybe we’ll put a GPS tracker on him. Anyway, back to the food. There will be a breakfast buffet every day. Clay’s cooking up biscuits and gravy, sweet cream waffles, Applewood-smoked bacon, green chile brisket and hash, huevos
rancheros, and apple pancakes. Lunches will be light—salads and sandwiches.”

  My uncle’s been running the town diner forever, but this is a huge undertaking. “Can Uncle Clay handle all of this?”

  “Absolutely. He’s shutting down the diner for the weekend to do it.”

  “Mom, I don’t feel right about that. The diner is their livelihood. They can’t just shut down.”

  “Don’t feel bad. Half the town is either coming to the wedding or working the wedding in some capacity. Either helping Bryan and his crew or serving or bartending. There won’t be anyone left to come to the diner.”

  “It still doesn’t sit well with me. Ari and I’ll have to do something big for him. When was the last time the diner had an upgrade? Appliances? New booths? Something?”

  Tapping her fingers on the table, Mom looks up as she thinks. “Probably in 1947 when Aunt Jilly’s daddy bought it.”

  That’s a little scary and must violate a few health and fire codes. “That settles it. Ari and I are giving the diner a facelift.”

  “He’ll fight you, but you can try,” Mom replies with a skeptical expression.

  “I’ll send a consultant down and say he won it as a prize or something. It’s happening.”

  She puts her hand over mine. “It’s a sweet thought, and I hope he lets you. Now, let’s get through the rest of this. Dinner on Thursday will be fajitas and carnitas tacos, red chile enchiladas, and braised pork tamales.”

  My stomach growls at the thought of it. Aunt Jilly makes the world’s best guacamole. “Damn, I’m pissed I’m going to miss it. Save me some? I’ll eat it cold, I don’t care.”

  “Of course, honey. We’ll save you a platter and heat it up when you get in. Now for the rehearsal dinner… Blake can’t make it to the wedding—Lucy’s pregnant again and due any second. So since he can’t come, he’s sending us meat from his ranch for the rehearsal dinner and wedding. Beef, pork, lamb.”