by Teagan Kade
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I begin, putting my hand out to Sara, “my fiancé”.
As they say, better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission.
EPILOGUE
Sara
Gretchen has disappeared inside the house a minute after her latest boyfriend. I almost choked on my Caesar salad when she talked about marrying him the other day. My sister? Settling down? I can’t picture it.
But I couldn’t picture Andy Fortes the father two years ago, and yet here we are. Andy’s got his gig with Ferrari and we’ve got places in Milan, Monaco and Texas, a big ol’ ranch like Andy always talked about, though far more homey than the stuffy manor of his parents. No, this home is messy, cluttered. It’s a living, breathing hub of activity, and although it drives me mad, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
After the crash in Spain, I thought I might lose him. Four drivers, one dead, Carl in a coma. Andy got off easy, managed to get out of his car before it became a fireball. It could have been so much worse than a broken collarbone, but it wasn’t the physical injury that had me worried. It was the lasting psychological impact.
I needn’t have worried. Andy was back racing the very next round, even started flying in to check on Carl in Geneva from time to time. Pop Princess waited less than a week after the accident before moving onto her next toy boy. When Carl came to, it was Andy by his side. If you had told me two years ago they’d be best buddies, I wouldn’t have believed you, but life is strange like that. You can plan your path all you want, know the route inside and out, but anything could be waiting around the corner.
We never heard from Steven again, or Stacey. Steven went missing after his stint in jail, Stacey nowhere to be found. Even the FBI hasn’t been able to track them down. Perhaps they never will. Steven owed a lot of money to a lot of people—bookies and loan sharks, even the Russian mob. Goodall distanced itself far from him the moment it all came out.
“Gretchen!” I yell up to the house, sure they’re up there screwing in our newly renovated bathroom.
“Go!” Andy pushes the back of the soap box racer. Our one-year-old boy, Asher, laughs as the soap car picks up speed, bumping down the hill towards the field where we keep the horses. His floppy blonde mop whips with speed, his smile so wide it seems to wrap around his little, pin-cushion face. He looks so happy. The cart slows and Asher leaps out before it’s even stopped to push it back up the hill again for another go. He’s got his daddy’s need for speed, that’s for sure.
We have money, more than I ever dreamed of making at Caliber. Andy could easily have bought Asher a go-kart, a motorbike, a baby Ferrari, but no, he wanted to build a soap box racer with him, bond. Seeing the two of them in the garage night after night melts my heart, the father of my child, the reformed bad boy… Well, almost reformed. Even when I was pregnant with Asher we still made love like a pair of teenagers. There’s not a room in the whole house we haven’t ‘christened’, all twenty-two of them.
Andy jogs over. He’s backlit by the sun, fit as ever even though his eating hasn’t improved. He actually thought about releasing a cook book—‘The Fried Chicken Diet’. Harper-Collins was interested for about five seconds. One of his many and frequent lightbulb moments when he’s not racing. I don’t mind. I’m simply happy to have him home, safe.
Asher screams with glee, hands raised as the racer plunges down the hill again.
“Hands on the wheel!” yells Andy, shaking his head.
“He’s reckless, like someone else I know.” I raise an eyebrow at my husband.
He responds by placing his hand on my belly, already starting to swell again. “And what about the newest member of Team Fortes? Where do you think he will place?”
“He?” I question. “We don’t know the sex yet.”
Andy pokes my belly. “Yes, definitely a third leg in there, just like Daddy.”
I slap him. “God, you’re incorrigible. And if it’s a girl?”
“She’ll be like her momma.”
I laugh. “And how’s that?”
He smiles back—a husband, a father, the most passionate person I know. “Perfect.”
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About Teagan Kade:
Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hearing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: [email protected]. She doesn’t bite.
Also by Teagan Kade:
Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
She’s the perfect score. I’m a dirty player. It’s complicated.
JENSEN
Scarlet's always been a stunner. There was a time we could have been together, but then came the soccer, the fans, the fame... I lost her to my twin brother, Josh.
But Josh is a cheating bastard. I can't stand by and watch Scarlet suffer, not when she should’ve been mine all along.
SCARLET
I've been dating Josh for years. I've tried to steer clear of his twin brother, Jensen, but I’ve always felt a pull towards him, a pull I have to resist.
But when Josh betrays me, Jensen’s arms are suddenly wide open. It would be so easy…
My heart’s torn—I just don’t know in which direction.
