Chapter Twenty-Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Blakely

“Why do these women just fight all the time?” I dig the spoon into the tub of chocolate ice cream. “Oh, my gosh. Stop it . Don’t say that about her. You were just on a yacht with her two days ago.”

I stretch out in the bed. My foot hits my phone. I consider just kicking it off the end of the bed, but I don’t. It would be a bit more effort than I’m willing to give.

“Are you talking to yourself again?” Foxx’s voice tears me away from the television.

“You’re never going to believe it. Adria is pissed at Camille again .”

“The horror.”

I take a big scoop of ice cream and look at him. “Do I sense sarcasm?”

He just stares at me.

“Ugh,” I groan, going in for another scoop. “I’m trying to distract myself, Foxxy. You aren’t helping.”

He lifts a brow.

“I’m heartbroken over here,” I say, shoving another heaping spoonful of chocolatey goodness in my mouth. “Does this qualify as me leaving my husband? I mean I did, but—”

“You’re dripping ice cream down the side of your mouth. Swallow first.”

“That’s what he said.”

Foxx sighs, shaking his head.

“That was funny.” I point my spoon at him. “Come on.” I shove the spoon into the container, my spirits dwindling again. “What am I going to do?”

“I’m unsure why you think I’m here to give advice.”

“Because you’re the only friend I have here with me. You win by default.”

“Yay.”

I glare at him. “Do you even have friends in real life?”

“Blakely, I’m going home.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going home. Someone will be coming to replace me today.”

My bottom lip trembles. Great. Now I’m getting emotional over the security guy. “You can’t leave me. We’ve bonded.”

“I’ll let you know before I go.”

“Fine. But do I get a say in your replacement?”

He holds his hands out, confused.

“I request Troy,” I say, lifting a glob of ice cream into my mouth.

“How do you even know him?”

“Ways.”

He points at me. “You missed.”

“What?” I look down at my shirt. A drop of melted ice cream is smack dab in the middle of my chest. “Oh. Shit . Eating with my left hand sucks.”

He takes the opportunity to sneak out. Bastard .

I flop back against the pillows and search for the remote. I can’t take any more of the arguing … that or it’s getting harder to be distracted.

Channel surfing doesn’t deliver a viable alternative to thinking, so I give up.

My head is a little clearer this morning … or afternoon. I’m not sure what time it is. Sleep helped. A long bath this morning assisted. But the quiet, the space to decompress—that’s what I really needed.

It’s made things evident that were cloudy.

I’m in love with Renn Brewer.

Since I’m in Vegas, if I were to make a wager, I’d put my money on the fact that he loves me too.

I can see a future with him. I can see a family—lots of babies and adventures. I can see us building on our marriage. Even if it started poorly, we could save it.

If he wants to.

What I haven’t worked out for certain is if we can return from yesterday’s nightmare.

Is he mad at me for leaving? Was it wrong for me to bolt like that?

Will his family be willing to accept me after the fracas? Because Renn can’t live without them, and I won’t ask him to. I’d never put him in that position. I’d walk away first, no matter how badly it hurts.

What happened to his father? I can’t be near him again.

Did Renn lose his job? Does he blame me?

Does he miss me like I miss him? His text last night said he did, so I have hope. But did he wake up this morning without me and realize his life is better when he wakes up alone?

“I’m too busy. I can be selfish. To be honest, I like my independence. I can spend my money on whatever I please. But probably the biggest thing is that I don’t have to wonder about hidden motivations.”

My questions can be answered by calling him. But I don’t feel like I’m mentally prepared for it just yet.

I grab the ice cream again. I’m about to scoop another glob of dessert when the television grabs my attention.

Renn’s face is on the screen. Beneath his picture are the words Brewer Retires.

What?

I drop the spoon and scramble for the remote. A talking head comes on the screen. I pound the volume to turn it up. My heart beats so fast that I have a hard time catching my breath.

“Thank you, Jeffrey,” the blond woman says. “Shock waves rippled through the rugby community this morning as superstar Renn Brewer announced his retirement. A joint statement between Brewer and the Tennessee Royals was released moments ago. Brewer, who played internationally and here in the US for ten of the last eleven seasons, is heralded as one of the best openside flankers of all time. The Royals wish him well. Brewer, for his part, has asked for privacy.” She looks at Jeffrey. “If you keep up with pop culture, you’ll remember that Brewer got married last week. Some are speculating this is the motivation behind the abrupt decision.”

“ Oh no .” I turn the volume down, panic setting in. “Foxx!”

His footsteps hit the steps. He appears in the doorway.

“Renn retired.”

“I know.”

My eyes bulge. “ You know ? You didn’t think to mention that to me?”

“NDA.”

I glare at him. He shrugs.

“I hate your shrugs,” I say, my voice breaking. A well of emotion breaks, and the pressure builds in my throat. “Was it because of me?”

Foxx looks at the ceiling. “Why me?”

“You might’ve cost him his Royals contract …” Was Reid right ?

“No …”

I rip the blankets off, thankful I’m fully clothed. With shaky hands, I scramble to find my phone. I press the sides—bobbling it in my left hand, waiting for it to turn on. The battery sign flashes on the screen.

Tears fill my eyes as I search for a phone charger.

“Blakely …”

I whip around. Foxx walks toward me, carrying a manila envelope.

The look in his eye has me backing away. “What are you doing?”

“This is for you.”

“What if I don’t want it?”

He holds it in the air between us. “It’s from Renn.”

I take it from him and toss it on the bed like it might bite me. It’s a Wild West standoff—Renn facing me, me facing the envelope, and the envelope threatening to explode.

“It’s from Renn?” I ask, just to be sure.

“It says Renn on the front.”

“I’m not emotionally stable enough for this. Can you open it?”

“No.”

“Come on, Foxxy. Help a girl out. I only have one hand.” I’m wearing him down. I can tell. “Just open it. You don’t have to look at it or anything. Just open it for me.”

He’s not happy but takes the bait. He undoes the fastener and then puts the envelope back on the bed.

“Do you need a phone charger?” he asks.

“Yes. Do you have one?”

“Give me your phone.”

I fork it over. I’m too preoccupied even to crack a joke.

“I’m going to get this taken care of,” he says.

“Okay. Thank you.”

He walks out, leaving me with the mystery delivery.

I take a long, deep breath and pick it up. The papers, a chunk of them, slide out onto the bed.

And my world falls apart.

District Court

Clark County, Nevada

Joint Petition for Divorce (with no children)

A deep, raw sob spills from the depths of my chest. “ No !”

Tears blind me. I wince from the pain of having my hopes and dreams ripped from me. I hunch over to prevent my whole heart from shattering on the floor.

My hand hits the mattress. The motion bobbles the papers just enough for me to see Renn’s signature in black ink at the bottom of the last page.

I crawl to the middle of the bed and curl into a ball. The force of the heaves is so strong that it’s nearly impossible to breathe.

It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left him. I should’ve stayed.

I want to think we should’ve gotten an annulment right after our wedding, but I can’t make myself believe it. The last few days have been the best days of my life. I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

“ Renn …”

My eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking from beneath my lashes anyway.

All the visions I had for us—morning coffee in the sunroom, vacationing in Australia, evenings in the pool while we share all our secrets—are gone.

There won’t be nights that turn into mornings while we forget to fall asleep. Dark-headed babies racing down the hallways with Renn chasing after them. Telling our grandkids that we accidentally got married on my thirtieth birthday.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper through my tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The mattress dips.

I swipe behind me. “Leave me alone, Foxx,” I say, hiccuping. “I don’t want my phone. Just take it.”

Instead, the mattress dips more. And slowly, a body lies behind mine.

My sobs shudder as an arm with a number seven tattoo stretches across me, pulling me into him.

What ?

I roll over as fast as I can with one hand and a heart on the verge of exploding.

“Hey, cutie,” Renn says, his head resting on his hand.

“What are you doing?” My mind races. “You can’t … You just …” I scramble to sit up, confused. “You just served me divorce papers and come here like this?” My throat squeezes. “I can’t do this. I don’t know what you’re doing, but I can’t—”

He grins. “Do you want to know what I’m doing?”

“In the words of Foxx …” I shrug.

His laughter shakes the bed. I’m so confused.

“I didn’t want you to leave,” he says in his casually cool way. “I was mad. Worried. You didn’t let me take care of you. You deprived me of that, and it hurt me.”

I watch him, too scared that I’ll read things wrong to say anything.

“But it’s not just about me,” he says. “And you needed to be alone, and I have to give you what you need.”

I mean, you didn’t have to …

“But all I can give you is one night because I miss you too much.” He reaches for me. “Let me hold you.”

Slowly, I fall into his arms. He holds me so tight I almost can’t breathe.

He presses a kiss on the top of my head. “I love you. I love you with all of my heart and soul. And I will never not love you, Blakely.” He kisses me again. “We aren’t getting out of this bed until we’re on the same page.”

I close my eyes and absorb the peace. The love. He loves me ? But he doesn’t want to be married to me? How cruel. How does that make sense?

I smile. “I love you, Renn. I love you in ways I didn’t know were possible. But if you love me, why did you give me divorce papers?”

He lets me pull away. “Because you said our marriage wasn’t real. It’s the realest thing in my life. But if I need to divorce you and remarry you, so we remember it, let’s do it. I’ll do it tomorrow. But I can’t love you more than I do right now. Nothing will ever be any more real than our marriage.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He takes my broken hand gently and inspects the cast. “Are you okay?”

“It hurts.”

He pulls me into another hug. “My mom is divorcing my father. None of my siblings will have anything to do with him. Ripley got a pretty good shot off on him before I returned to the house.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Never, ever apologize for that, baby. I’m sorry my father put you in that position. And I’m proud as hell that you stood up to him.” He presses his cheek against my head. “Thank you for giving me and my family another chance.”

“Your family?”

“Not my fucking dad. But the rest of them … they hope you’ll get to know them. That they can be a part of our family.”

My brows pull together. “You mean that I can be a part of your family?”

“Nope. It’s me and you now. And all ten of our kids.”

My heart swells. Although, ten kids is a stretch. I was thinking maybe four …

“You are my family,” he whispers. “Whatever we do, we do together.”

I hold on to him. Just one more question . “What about your contract? Did you lose that because of me? I need to know the truth.”

He takes a deep breath. “No. I didn’t. I walked away after a meeting that made me realize I no longer need to play. I won’t sacrifice things I might’ve sacrificed before. And with Brock and all that … my heart wasn’t in it. My heart is yours. So let’s start fresh together. No outside bullshit.”

My smile turns into laughter, which turns into a burst of energy. I roll over, straddling him. He holds my waist looking up at me, laughing.

“You do realize I’m lying in melted ice cream right now, don’t you?” he asks.

“Oh, crap!”

“At least you’re consistent.”

My giggles are captured by his mouth, and his touch restores my dreams.

“Renn?” I ask between kisses.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s not get divorced.”

He chuckles against my mouth. “We were never really getting divorced anyway. I was making a point.”

“Ah!” I yell as he flips me onto my back. I look up at him, beaming. “Is this a good time to tell you that I’ve been thinking …”

He looks at me nervously.

I bite my lip. “And I want to take you up on your offer.”

“What offer?”

“Let’s make a baby, Mr. Brewer.”

“Foxx!” Renn shouts, stripping his shirt off. “Don’t come up here!”

“Yeah, Foxxy!”

Renn laughs, his eyes sparkling. “I love you.”

“I love you more. I’ve missed you and never want to spend another day away from you.”

We ruin the divorce papers in the melted ice cream. My shirt lands on the llama—again. We wind up on the floor, laughing and touching, kissing and fucking.

And this time, we make love.