Winner Takes All: Checkmate, #7

by Finn, Emilia

  “I’ll never have your babies.”

  It’s definitely not funny. But it’s a million times worse when Spencer’s face drains white.

  “If you stay with me, you will never get to create a baby of your own. Your bloodline will die with you.”

  “What?”

  Tears flow over my cheeks, blinding me from everything but the sheer size of him in front of me. “One long course of chemo already messed me up. A second, more aggressive round will finish it off. And even if I’m not forced into menopause, and the possibility is still there, I don’t want to make babies with my genes. I refuse to pass this on to my daughter.”

  “Well… I mean…”

  I nod when he chokes on his words. “You didn’t even know you wanted kids until the option was taken away. Now you can’t get it out of your head, right?”

  He’s stunned. He moistens his bottom lip as his eyes follow each move I make. “I dunno.”

  “I can’t do the one thing women were made to do. I can’t make a baby. I can’t feed a baby. I can’t even survive my own body without constant worry and surgery. Medications. Panic attacks. Frailty. Fragility. I will always be small and weak. I will never be like your Ashley.”

  “Who the fuck is Ashley,” Beckett demands. “Because she sounds like a fuckin’ homewrecker to me.”

  “She’s not my Ashley,” Spencer insists.

  I swipe my palm across my face and collect the annoying tears. “It’s time for you to go, Spencer. It was fun, and I loved you. Right up deep in my heart.” I take his large hand and press it over my chest. “I’ll never be sorry for knowing you. But you can go, no hard feelings. You don’t have to stick around for the rest of this show.”

  “Just like that?” His voice shakes. “You dismiss me just like that, and you don’t even ask how I feel about it?”

  I nod. “I already know how you feel. You wanted fun, you wanted to conquer something that no man has before.”

  “Oh god. Nope.” Mitch walks out of the room amid mock gagging sounds. Or maybe they’re real. I’m not sure.

  “You wanted me because I was a fun game. You got it, and now you’re desperately searching for an out.” I reach up and cup his cheek. “You can go. I can be strong enough on my own.”

  “I can go…” He holds my hand against his cheek and closes his eyes. “I can go, because you’re strong enough to keep going?”

  “Yes.”

  More faces show up behind Spencer. Kane is back. Jay. Sophia. Eric. Angelo, the quiet guy with the quiet blonde. None of them should be here, but they follow rules just as strictly as my brothers do.

  “And you’d rather I left? You don’t want me to watch this?”

  “I want you to be happy.” My breath hitches painfully in my chest. “I’ll miss you. And I’ll never be bitter about what we had. I got attached to you, Spencer. My heart went and got involved, but I’m not sorry.”

  “You’re not sorry…”

  Maybe he’s in shock too, because he simply repeats my words, as though he needs help processing his thoughts.

  “Please don’t fight my brothers on the way out the door. I’m begging you, don’t fight them. They love me. You love me. You all want the same for me; safety, happiness, health. You think you’re at war with each other, but really, you’re on the same side.”

  “I won’t fight them, Priss. I promise.”

  My lips quiver with our goodbyes. “Okay.”

  “One last kiss?” He cups my cheeks and steps impossibly closer. “Just one?”

  My eyes flash to Troy’s in fear. If I kiss this man in front of them, I’ll have to break up another fight. I don’t want them at each other’s throats, but I want to kiss Spencer so much that I’m scared I won’t survive if I don’t.

  I bring my eyes back to a crying Spence. Real tears in his eyes, real boogers on his top lip. His hands shake as they cup my cheek, and his breath comes in hitching inhales that make it hard for me to breathe.

  I step up onto my tiptoes in confirmation, and he takes that as permission to pull me closer and wrap an arm around my waist. He lifts me off my toes just an inch or so. He holds me tight, but he’s careful not to crush my chest against his.

  In silence, he stares into my eyes; his, watery and sparkling. Mine, blind. I can’t stop my tears, and seeing he has his own make mine worse. I don’t want him to be sad. I don’t want him to hurt because of my stupid body.

  Slowly, he lowers his head until our lips touch, then what I thought would be a sweet goodbye, turns to inconsolable sobs and an inability to breathe. I can’t let him go, but I can’t hold him hostage either. I can’t say goodbye, but I can’t force him into a relationship he had no intention of entering.

  His tongue slides along my lip in a sweet caress. The sweetest, kindest caress that assures me that he still sees me as a woman, and not a sickly damsel. I don’t stop crying, but that doesn’t stop his lips consuming mine, his tongue tangling with mine, or his strong hand coming down to squeeze my butt until I gasp.

  Someone in the room growls, but it doesn’t stop Spencer from showing me that my body is womanly even without touching my boobs. His hand molds my butt cheek. Slides over my hip. Tickles the small of my back. And then comes up to knot into the back of my hair and gently tugs.

  I gasp from our broken kiss. I struggle to find my breath, but Spencer doesn’t have the same trouble. Instead, he gets angry.

  “You are so seriously stupid if you think I’m leaving you because of a set of tits, Priss. I always knew you were high-maintenance. You seem to get off on making mountains out of molehills. I always knew you’d be prickly and rarely see logic. But you might wanna ask them to reinsert your brain tomorrow while they’re going in, because I think you lost it somewhere during the time I’ve been gone.”

  “Spencer?” I look between his eyes, then scream when he picks me up and cradles me in his arms. “Spencer! Let me go.”

  “Absolutely not. I will never let you go.” He leans in and kisses me again. He turns so my brothers get a front row seat to his tongue making use of every inch of my mouth, then he comes up for air and stares as though in dare. “Anyone got a problem with me and Abigail marrying?”

  Beckett’s eyes nearly pop out of his face. Corey looks similar. But Nixon doesn’t seem quite as opposed. Mitchell, on the other hand, must hear Spencer’s question, because he comes sprinting back into the room like a bull charging for a red target.

  “I have a problem! I oppose! I’m speaking now, motherfucker!”

  “No, wait.” Troy steps forward and pulls Mitch back. “I’m listening.”

  “Are you serious right now?” I swear, I fear Mitchell is going to literally explode any moment. “Are you fucking serious right now, Troy? You meet a guy two minutes ago, and you think you get a say?”

  “I met this guy eight years ago. He saved my life.” He fists Mitch’s collar and tugs him around to face him. “He literally saved my life and allowed me to come back to you punks.”

  “What?” Stunned, I study Troy’s face, and then Spence’s. Though he doesn’t watch me. I only see the underside of his jaw while he watches my brothers. “Spencer?”

  “It’s true,” Troy presses. “He saved my life and made it so I could come home. I’ve spent the last two months with him. Day in, day out. I didn’t know he was into my sister, so we’re gonna need to talk about that. But you know what he did every day that we were together? He was texting his girl, calling her, smiling about her. I offered him women like they were a tasty smorgasbord of treats.”

  There he is, with another smorgasbord.

  “But he said no every time. He wanted to talk to his good girl. He wanted to know how her day was going, and walked away from the shit I was doing in my spare time. And I’m just saying, the buffet was tasty as hell.”

  “Troy!”

  He waves me off, then meets Spencer’s eyes. “You have my blessing. Marry her, make her happy. Because I’ve never seen a man make her cry happy t
ears before you did just now.”

  “Deal.” Spencer looks over the crowd, and lifts his chin toward Jay. “You’re up.”

  “Yes!” Jay thrusts his fist into the air. “I knew my time was coming! Yes, motherfucker!” He pushes his way into the room without a single care for the angry men he shoves out of the way. “Do you, Abigail whatever-your-middle-name-is Rosa, take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness,” he emphasizes, “and health? When you’re broke as fuck and have to eat ramen for dinner, or when the caviar is flying, and we bring you dinner anyway. Do you promise to make him happy and stop fretting about your boobs?”

  “Um…”

  “Awesome! Spencer Clarence Serrano. It sucks that’s your middle name, and now everyone knows it. Do you take Abigail gonna-be-Serrano-in-a-second to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to take care of her when she can’t do it herself, knowing that she would do the same for you?” Jay takes my hand in his, and when Spencer lowers me to my feet, keeping his arm around my hips and offers the other, he takes that and encloses our circle. “Do you promise to love her forever, no matter what bullshit life throws at you? We know the shit is coming, so we prepare now, we work as a team, and we win this war like we’ve won every war before it.”

  “I do.”

  I choke. I feel the kiss pressed to my temple. The strong arm around my hips. The insane beat of my heart in my chest. But I choke, because he just said ‘I do’ directly after being asked that question.

  “Alrighty! By the power vested in me by this great state and my beautiful girlfriend that still hasn’t said yes to my many, and much better than Spence’s, proposals, I now pronounce you husband and wife. This is legit, so kiss your bride, man. Seal this shit up, because women are apt to run.”

  “Umm…” I lean away to catch sight of Spencer.

  This must be a joke. It has to be an insane joke, and I’m the idiot being punked. But when our eyes meet, he’s not laughing. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so serious in my life, and that includes when he was demanding answers from me not ten minutes ago.

  “I mean it, Priss. I want this.”

  “You have no clue what you’re asking for. This isn’t a life anyone should run toward.”

  “I’m running.” He leans forward and stares into my eyes. “I’m asking you to say yes. I’m asking you to join my team and let me fight with you. I’m staying by your side no matter your answer, but we can be one. We can be a team, and teams are always stronger than a single individual.”

  “Spencer… no.”

  “Let’s go through the formalities now. Become my wife today, let me fight with you, and when we’re done with chemo and shit, we’ll celebrate with a real wedding. You can buy any dress you want. You can have as many tiers on your cake as you’d planned. We can do it in a castle, if that’s what you want. But for today, just say yes. Tomorrow, our fight begins. And I promise, I never lose.”

  “That’s true,” Jay adds. “Have you ever played Go Fish with this guy?”

  “Dude.” Spencer looks to his friend, purses his lips, and jerks his chin as though to say ‘go away,’ but Jay shakes his head and shrugs.

  “I gotta stay until she says yes. It’s part of the rules.”

  “Priss.” Spencer’s eyes come back to mine. “If you say yes, we can make him go away.”

  I laugh. I cry. I want so badly to say yes.

  “I have nothing to offer you,” I say instead. “My body is broken, my health is unreliable, my cooking is average, and I haven’t learned all that sex stuff you want me to do.”

  “Ohhpp!” Mitch’s face turns green as he circles back out of the room and his cheeks fill. “Nope. Nope. Nope. I can’t get on board with this.”

  Spencer chuckles. “He’ll come around, Priss. I promise he will. And… the answer is you.” When I frown, he adds, “You have you to offer, and that’s all I’m asking for. I just need you, your brain, your lips, your sass outside of the bedroom–”

  “Don’t say it, Serrano. Don’t you fuckin’ say it.”

  Spencer smiles at Troy’s snapped words. Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to the warm skin behind my ear. “Your submission in the bedroom.” He pulls back. “I love everything about you. If you want babies, we’ll make it happen with science. If you want new, non-deadly boobs, I’ll buy them for you. If you want a purple wig to wear while undergoing treatment, I’ll buy you one in every shade. But I don’t care about your hair. I don’t care about your boobs. I don’t care about your ovaries.” He presses his hand to my heart. “This is the only thing I can’t live without. Your heart, baby. It’s what I fell in love with. It’s what I felt while I was away. It’s what has me coming back to you time and time again. The rest is just aesthetics.”

  He steps back and takes my hand between his. His is so much larger than mine. All those tattoos. All that color against my pale skin. All that judgment I laid on him without trying to know him.

  “Marry me, Priss. I’m gonna love you anyway, I’d rather do it with your permission.”

  My tears flow. My head throbs from a crying-headache. My single remaining breast is trying to kill me, and my brothers are going to kill Spencer.

  But then a flash of blue in the hall catches my eye. It’s a vibrant blue, just someone’s shirt as they pass my room and continue on with their evening. But it’s the blue of Marcie’s butterfly.

  It’s a reminder that, if she was here, and not laying somewhere else in this hospital while she awaits her final resting place, she would tell me to say yes. She would scream for me to say yes. She would shove me against him, and tie us together with ropes until the promises stuck.

  More importantly, she would be disappointed in me if I said no because I was scared.

  I meet his eyes again and bite my bottom lip to stop the sobs that want to come. “I’m so scared of dying and losing you.”

  He steps forward and pulls me close until he’s holding me up again. He kisses my tears away. He holds me together and nods. “I’m scared too. I’m so fucking terrified. But if you say no, I lose you anyway. Say yes, and we’ll fight hard together. Say yes, and we’ll make it all better.”

  My entire body shakes as I give a jerky nod. “Okay.”

  I feel his heart stop. It literally, actually stops, and his eyes snap to mine in shock.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay. I think technically we’re already married anyway.”

  “You gotta kiss,” Jay interjects. “Kiss it out. Add some tongue to make sure it’s legit. Then we’re all set.”

  “Okay.” I swallow my nerves and meet Spencer’s eyes. “I do.”

  His lips crash down onto mine so fast, I don’t have time to draw my breath. Those black dots fill my vision, because he takes my air and my kiss and my yes until my legs turn weak, but then he gives them all back. He fills my lungs and murmurs “Yes, yes, yes” against my lips. He lifts me a foot off the ground, and kisses me until my lips swell and my brothers declare his death, but I still don’t care.

  He asked.

  I said yes.

  I’ve spent days mourning Marcie, mourning my health, and mourning Spencer, because I thought I was going to have to give him up. Instead, he’s staying, and my upcoming battle seems just that little bit more bearable.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I swipe a hand over my cheeks and clear the tears away when Spencer sets me on my feet. “Thanks for coming back.”

  “Maybe next time, you could take my fucking calls and get me back here a little faster. Instead, I had to ride here with your brother, and pretend I wasn’t freaking out about his sister.”

  Spencer picks me up the way he picked me up earlier, then takes me to the bed, and climbs up beside me in such a way as to announce we’re going into this together.

  If I’m in this bed, being poked and prodded and losing parts of my body, then he’ll be right here with me.
Every day that I’m having poison pumped into my veins with the hopes it kills the other poison in my body, he’s going to be here holding my hand and telling me I still look pretty.

  He sets us up in my bed so I lay on my back with my legs open, then he lays between them, resting his head on my chest and his chest on my pelvis. He drapes himself over me, promising to protect me from everything the world is going to toss at us over the next three months.

  “I love you, Priss. Don’t check out on me again.”

  I lay back and stare at the ceiling with tears in my eyes. “Okay.”

  “Everyone else, get the fuck out of this room. We’re going to sleep; my wife has a big day tomorrow.”

  I thread my fingers into his hair and smile at the ceiling. Tomorrow, my war begins.

  “Spencer?”

  He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

  “My surgery is at nine. Can we get up early to visit with Marcie first? I won’t be able to go to her funeral.” My voice hitches. I miss her so much, and not being able to attend her funeral hurts almost as much as her death does. “I just want to say goodbye first.”

  He nods and lays his head back down. “I’m wherever you are. I’ll make it happen for you. Then I’ll attend when she’s laid to rest. I’ll attend for us both, and take her those flowers I would have taken her on prom night.”

  28

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  I fluff the yards and yards of white tulle and fabric in preparation for the walk down the aisle. High heels that are far too high for safety, long hair that looks so pretty I want to weep.

  I study the reflection I see in the full-length mirror, and smile at the sweetheart neckline, the bejeweled bust, the tiny tiara sitting perched on the top of luscious hair.

  It’s all so perfect, as is the bouquet of flowers I painstakingly put together this morning. Rose gold, fabric roses made from a special gown that has now been repurposed so the gown’s previous owner can be a special part of today. A string of pearls encircles the bouquet, dangling almost like a rosary. We stand in an elaborate church; it’s not quite a castle, but this is just as magical. The organist plays in the main room while we – me, Sophia, Jessie, Laine, and Andi – move around our small changing room amid giggles and excitement.