“It’s okay. I forgive you.”
“We’ve got some living to make up for. The first thing I want to do is take you on a real honeymoon.”
Uncaring of the crowd of people who’ve gathered around us, I lean my head on his chest as my arms wrap around his waist. “Will you miss it? The game? I don’t want to be the reason you don’t play.”
He chuckles. “I’ll miss the camaraderie and the test of my skill. I certainly won’t miss two-a-day practices and bumps and bruises. I won’t miss worrying if I’m going to get my next concussion. I’ve got faith that life is gonna be good for us. Life gave me you. I dreamed of you before I even met you.”
He tips my face up, his eyes searching mine. “I thought I knew everything I wanted before I met you, but I was wrong. We’re starting a new chapter of our story. We’re going to write the book on being happy. The bookstore is ours, not just mine. You have to know that I bought it just for you. We’re gonna make it the best place in New York to come and buy books and see fantastic windows. Are you in it with me? Do you still want me?”
I laugh, a flood of joy hitting me so hard I feel drunk. “God. Yes.”
He laughs, and I smile. “I just don’t want you to get bored.”
“I’ve been talking to my coaches and players. I’m not the only one who’s dealt with a TBI. It’s a lot to think about, but I’d like to bring more awareness to concussions, maybe find ways to prevent them on the field.”
“I could use some help at my luxury gym,” Brody calls out. “I’ll let you make the juice drinks.”
Graham rolls his eyes. “Sorry, they tagged along. The three of us were looking at a place for the gym when Jane called me and said you’d be in today. They insisted on coming.”
I wince. “So your dad knows about the marriage of convenience thing.”
“Hmm. He’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls my rings out of his pocket. “I’ve been carrying these around with me.” His eyes meet mine. “I have a question for you.”
My nerves flare to life. This moment feels momentous and beautiful. I swallow. “Yeah?”
He types out a message on the typewriter, then whispers in my ear: “I want this to be for us, something to remember. Look at what I wrote.”
Emmy, will you stay married to me? are the words he’s typed. Tears well over and slide down my cheeks as I pull his face to me and crush my lips against his. “Yes,” I breathe when we come up for air.
Cheers go up around us, and I hear Babs crying in joy.
Graham gazes down at me. “We’re gonna make some beautiful magic, darling.”
Epilogue
A few years later
I stir from my nap, the soft sounds of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. My eyes flutter open to the sight of the Prince of Darkness snuggled up on my chest like a fuzzy, purring blanket. Yes, he came with us to Santorini. Our one-year-old daughter （Hazel Darling Harlan） loves him, and Magic travels well.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. The damn cat has finally warmed to me, and all it took was Hazel crawling around after me at the apartment. Magic just trailed right along, and pretty soon we got used to each other.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, scratching his head gently.
His eyes peer up at me, and he lets out a little mewl. Slowly and carefully, I ease myself into a sitting position, trying not to disturb him too much. He stretches lazily in a sunbeam before hopping off my chest and onto the cool, tiled floor of the villa Emmy and I bought after our honeymoon. Nestled into the side of the mountains, it overlooks the Aegean Sea and has a private grotto and lagoon below the house.
“All right, Magic”—I smirk—“let’s get you that treat I promised for not shredding my shirt I left on the floor last night.”
As I stand up, the light catches my wedding band, glinting, the weight familiar around my finger. It brings back memories of our honeymoon in Santorini, the laughter we had as we traced cobblestone streets, drank ouzo, and ate delicious local food. I recall her hand in mine, the way her eyes gleamed when she smiled up at me.
“Here you go, you little con artist,” I say as I toss a treat to the cat. He leaps into the air, catching it midflight before landing gracefully on the ground. His half tail swishes proudly as he attacks the treat, then struts back to the couch.
“Show-off,” I tease. “Just remember who keeps those coming, yeah? Emmy doesn’t let you have them.”