Epilogue

EPILOGUE

MONROE

"Okay, you remember the plan, right?" I say, staring at Friggle's giant googly eyes as I wait for confirmation. He hops up and down, his long arms flapping at his sides as he does.

I sigh, rubbing my temples because I honestly don't have the patience for this. It's hot, my underboobs are sweating, and I'm literally salivating at the thought of a soft pretzel.

"For fuck's sake, Brent. We're the only two people in this hallway. You can talk." I'm questioning my decision to involve him in this little announcement more and more with every second that he stares at me wordlessly, but I thought it would be fun to rile Riggs up, so I'm trying to push through.

"Yes, I remember," he whispers, looking around like he doesn't believe me and a preschool full of children is going to jump out from behind one of the thick wooden doors at any moment. This dude takes his job way too seriously. Now I understand why Riggs beat the shit out of him. "Go out there, hand him the jersey, and turn him toward the Jumbotron."

"Exactly," I reply, patting him on the shoulder as I sneak into the dugout and hide behind Hawk, who's strategically standing near the corner. It's game one of the World Series, and Riggs is warming up at the mound with Ace before they're called to the third baseline for the National Anthem. But I have a surprise for him first.

The last year and a half since I moved to Daytona has been the most amazing time of my life. My marketing business is doing great, and I've been freelancing as a special events consultant with the Fury on the side. After the success of Friendship Day, Taylor practically begged me to help the marketing department out. At first, I tried to decline, but she brought out the big guns. I couldn't say no to Mr. Durst when he told me how much the team needed my fresh outlook, so here I am.

Riggs and I moved out of his old building six months ago, purchasing a house with our own private beach. Although it's secluded, I still go out there topless from time to time to fire him up. Let's just say the outdoor shower we built has seen some things .

As far as my family, so much has happened since my father's arrest. He was found guilty on all counts of solicitation and tax fraud, and just as I suspected in the back of my mind, he took Conrad down with him. Apparently, I wasn't their only mutual interest. They were working together for years, stealing from clients and hiding money in offshore accounts so nobody suspected a thing. The state of California dodged a bullet, because who knows what they would've gotten away with if my dad had become governor ?

My mom and I are working to rebuild our relationship, and we've come so far since she moved to Daytona. Her divorce from my dad is almost final, and her lawyers predict that she'll end up getting every dime their broken prenup entitles her to. She's made some new friends down here, including the Fury's grumpy ass manager, Clyde. As surprising as that was to us all, it's certainly made the team's life easier now that he isn't flying off the handle every ten seconds.

"Showtime," Hawk whispers as I peek out from behind him. We watch as Friggle walks toward Riggs with the piece of white fabric clutched in his furry hand. True to form, my fiancé attempts to act like he doesn't see the mascot, but Friggle refuses to be ignored, stepping directly into Riggs' line of sight. I laugh as he throws his head back in annoyance before finally giving up and raising his hands in question.

Friggle thrusts the jersey between them, shaking it rapidly in an attempt to get Riggs to take it. He finally does, giving a thumbs up, which I can tell he's just doing so he can get back to his warm-ups. The mascot points to it, putting his hands together then pulling them apart as if to say open it up . Riggs does, and I watch his eyebrows pull inward as he reads the word DADDY that's been embroidered across the back. He looks back up at Friggle, confused before he's spun around to the Jumbotron.

Hawk moves aside and I hurry up the steps, straightening my tank top that says Daddy's Biggest Fan with an arrow pointing down to my still somewhat flat belly. Keeping my positive pregnancy test from Riggs has been killing me since I found out, but I wanted to make his first World Series start the most memorable night of his life. The only person who knew prior to today was Grace, and surprisingly, she hasn't told a soul. Our stellar secret-keeping is about to pay off once he realizes what's going on here.

The crowd goes nuts as the animations begin to play across the big screen, starting with a cartoon baby in a number fifty-seven jersey toddling across, followed by text that says Congrats, Val! You're going to be a daddy!

He immediately whips his head to my empty seat, a look of shock painted across his expression until he catches me walking toward him out of the corner of his eye and turns my way. I point to my shirt as I close the distance between us, making his confusion turn to pure happiness as he grins from ear to ear.

"Shut the fuck up!" he says. "Seriously? You're pregnant?"

"Yep," I reply, tucking my chin as heat flashes in his eyes. It's no secret that Riggs has been trying to put a baby in me for a while, so when we decided to stop using birth control, he went into feral breeding mode. I swear the man can smell it when I'm ovulating. It's been pretty hot, to be honest.

"Come here, Mayhem," he says with a smirk, crooking his finger in invitation. A huge smile blooms across my face as I jump into his arms, immediately being lifted off the ground as the sounds of the crowd celebrating with us ring through the stadium.

"I fucking love you so much, baby," he says into my ear. "Thank you. For being everything I've ever wanted."

And whether he knows it or not, he's been the exact same thing for me…even when I pretended he wasn't.

Curious about Ace's story? Keep reading for a sneak peek of Scoring Position, book 2 of the Daytona Fury series…