Page 24

24

BLAKELY

My mom is the complete opposite of Gracie Bateman.

Nate and I were raised with the knowledge that our existence was a burden. The money it took to pay for groceries, the roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs was a nuisance. I heard several times over the course of my life that it would have been easier if she only had to take care of herself and not two children who were never quite grateful enough for her sacrifices .

Dad was always the one who tucked us in at night and made sure our supper was heated the entire way through when Mom left it out for us to serve ourselves. He tried his best to pick up the slack. To this day, I’m positive that if it weren’t for us, he’d never have stayed with Mom. He was the glue keeping our family together, and once he passed, that glue dried up, and the two halves fell apart.

I’m only grateful that Nate was young enough when she left to not have bonded much with her. He missed her the first few months after she left and wouldn’t sleep anywhere but beside me for several more after that. Then, he started growing up too fast.

I blame our mother for many, many things, but the most important is the loss of Nate’s childhood. Ten years old is too young to have to be without a father and a mother.

Being here in this house with a family who bursts with love and appreciation for one another has been hard for me to witness. They haven’t had to do anything more than offer hugs and smiles and kindness, but it’s been more than enough.

From the moment I met Jamie, it was painfully obvious that he was raised well. Not only with respect and love but also support and guidance. There’s a light inside of him that shines from the deepest crevice of his soul. Every day I spend with him, he tries to draw something similar out of me, and I’m growing to hate my inability to flash him with a bright light even once.

It’s obvious that his mom doesn’t trust me, yet she hasn’t treated me any differently than I’d suspect she would if she did. There’s something incredible about that.

“So, I guess I’ll just come out and ask,” she starts, palming the mug of coffee in her lap. I hold my breath. “How much of the wedding has been planned so far? Do you have a dress? Flowers? Avery runs a flower shop, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind helping.”

Those weren’t the questions I was expecting at all.

Releasing my breath, I tuck my leg further beneath my body. “I’m nearly done. Tony got us in touch with a planner, and we’ve made a lot of progress. I haven’t gotten a dress yet, and we decided on roses, but if you all think there’s something better?—”

“Roses are beautiful. Don’t feel pressured to include me. I’m sure whichever shop you choose will do an amazing job,” Avery says gently.

Nova watches while Nate peels the foil from his tart before picking up one of her own and copying him.

She grins at it and then says, “My mom’s shop is the best. You should use her flowers. I’ll help and make them extra beautiful for Uncle J.”

“If you’re available, Avery. I’m sure Jamie would love you to be involved,” I tell her .

Flowers don’t matter to me. We could not have any, and it wouldn’t be the end of the world. In the grand scheme of things, they’ll die faster than our marriage will.

Excitement sparks in her eyes. “Absolutely. If you give me your number before you leave today, we can chat about them a bit more.”

Gracie doesn’t bother hiding how pleased she is by what just happened. In fact, I think it only makes her more confident to keep pushing.

“What about a dress?”

“I was just going to order something online.”

Her gasp is dramatic as fuck, which I think might fit her. It’s very Jamie-like. His mom is a perfect example of a tiny woman with an attitude meant for someone double her size.

“How will you know how you like the dress if you don’t try it on first?”

“I think they have websites now that let you upload a photo of yourself so you can virtually try it on,” Avery says, offering me a sympathetic smile.

I nod, pretending like I know all about those websites. “Exactly. It’s just easier for me that way.”

“Half the fun of planning a wedding is choosing a dress. I spent hours holding my phone in the shop for Avery’s mom on FaceTime so she could see her in every dress she was trying on. We cried on and off for days afterward,” Gracie says, her eyes watering.

Avery leans into her mother-in-law’s side for support but keeps her encouraging stare fixed on me. “If you choose to go in somewhere, we’d love to come. As long as that’s something you and your family would be okay with. I know how moms can be with this sort of thing.”

“A mom won’t be an issue. Ours doesn’t even know about the wedding and isn’t invited.”

I stiffen, Nate’s comment falling into the room with the weight of a cement block. The impact slams full force into my chest, making it hard to breathe.

In the blink of an eye, Gracie’s on high alert, her body nearly slipping off the edge of the couch as she leans as close to us as possible without standing.

The pity twisting her expression is what I was trying to avoid. What I always try to avoid. Having them learn about this so soon . . . on a first meeting?

It’s mortifying.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Avery apologizes quickly, guilt dripping off the words.

Nate sets a hand on my knee in a silent apology, and I fake a smile for him, not wanting him to feel bad for what he said. It’s not his fault. I can’t blame him for being honest, even if it exposed more than I was ready to right now.

The burn of Gracie’s eyes on my face forces me to meet her stare. All signs of pity are gone, replaced with a steadying offer of support that shocks me. Maybe it shouldn’t, considering the son she raised.

“My dad didn’t come to Mom and Ollie’s wedding and doesn’t see me a lot anymore, but we still had fun without him. If your mom doesn’t come to yours and Uncle J’s, that’s okay. G-Ma and Mormor always say that sometimes we get to choose our family, and that doesn’t mean they’re less special.”

Gracie chokes on a sob, and Avery hovers a hand over her chest before rubbing the other up and down her daughter’s arm. Nova doesn’t appear upset in the slightest, and I think that’s just a kid thing. Her advice came from the desire to help me, not from a place of her own pain.

Still, I’m jealous of this child’s ability to feel so openly. When I was her age, I’d already been beat down to the point of not wanting to feel at all anymore.

Gracie expertly pushes back her overflowing emotions and reaches out with both of her hands. She hovers them palm up in the gap between our couches, waiting for me to take them. I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek and fight past the shake in my hands as I press our palms together.

“Nova’s right. There will still be plenty of family there. You won’t even notice that your mother isn’t in attendance. And if you change your mind on the dress, we’d love to be there for you then as well,” she vows.

“I’ll go dress shopping,” I blurt out, hardly waiting for her to finish first. I flush from my chest to my ears. “I don’t know where to go, but yeah. I’ll do it.”

Gracie’s grin is all white teeth and pure joy. “Leave it up to me! Oh, this will be so fun. It can be just us girls. We’ll make a whole day of it!”

“Maybe we can stop by the shop and check out flower arrangements too?” Avery adds.

It’s a lot all at once. More involvement from strangers than I’ve ever allowed before. It doesn’t feel wrong to want to say yes.

Especially not when Jamie comes strolling into the room, his sight set completely on me. With every inch of space he eats between us, the more at ease I become while simultaneously hyperfixating on his closeness.

His calm eyes scroll over my face, taking in every inch of my expression before he’s lifting me off the couch and setting me on his lap. I don’t have the chance to reject the new positioning with how quickly he’s moved us, and that’s actually a good thing. I’d have told him off on instinct and missed the steady weight of his arms around me.

His thighs are comfortable as hell as I relax the full weight of my body on them, trusting that he’s strong enough to take it. That rich amber cologne hits me next as I turn to face him, our eyes clashing.

He strokes the outside of my thigh and grins up at me, an invisible tail wagging beneath him. His happiness encourages my mouth to tug up at the corner.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, you’re not,” I say, calling his bluff .

With a quick wink, he palms my waist and pushes up, his front flush with my back. “Nah, I’m not. With you in my lap, how could I be?”

It’s an act for his family. I know that, yet it still has my heart racing and heat blossoming low in my belly.

“Well, hello to you, Jamieson. We were actually in the middle of a conversation,” Gracie says.

“What, you can’t continue it with me here? Were you talking about me?”

“You wish. We were discussing the wedding and how the planning was going,” Avery states.

Jamie nuzzles his face into my hair, his nose bumping the back of my ear. “Oh yeah?”

I shiver against his body and avoid the curious stares around us. He’s doing this shit on purpose now, and I’m not one to be played with. Alone or surrounded by his family members. At least not without a heads-up first.

Scooting back, I make sure to drag my ass over his crotch while turning into his body. With a pointed finger, I drag my nail along the underside of his jaw and up to curl in the messy blond hair behind his ear.

His eyes thunder as he presses his fingers into my waist and swallows hard. I bat my lashes and take a page from his book, tipping his head back and drifting my mouth over his cheek.

Keeping my voice too low for everyone but him to hear, I whisper, “Don’t toy with me, or I’ll toy back.”

I’m not ready for him to call my bluff.

Turning his head, he brings his mouth to the corner of mine, leaving it there. When his lips part, I can almost taste his words.

“Don’t tease me, wife. I like it too much.”

“Should we get a room?” Gracie teases.

The question reminds me of what we’re doing, and I pull back, blinking heavily. Jamie chases my gaze. I let him hold it.

He smooths his hand from my waist to the curve of my stomach and adjusts the both of us, seating me lower on his lap. The stiffness beneath my ass follows our movements despite his efforts, only intensifying the burn in my gut.

His dick is hard because of me.

“You don’t say anything when Ollie mauls Avery,” he says, propping his chin on my shoulder.

Avery flushes. “He doesn’t maul me.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. Just pointing out the obvious.”

“Let’s move back to what I was saying,” Gracie urges, tapping her legs excitedly. “Wedding dress and flower shopping.”

I fall back into the conversation, this time with Jamie here to provide a sense of backup that I don’t need but have grown to appreciate.

The same way I have him.

The designer sweater dress moulded to my curves and knee-high nude boots should have me feeling like a supermodel. The vibe is more like playing dress-up instead.

I didn’t even recognize myself when I saw the aftermath of hours being done up like a doll. My hair is shiny and curled elegantly down my shoulders, freshly washed and frizzless. I haven’t worn this much makeup in my entire life. Not one patch of unevenness is showing beneath the expertly laid concealer and foundation, and the precise black line along my lashes makes my eyes pop. The lashes are fake, but you’d never know unless you were in the room while they were glued on.

Soft and comfortable, the high neck of the dress rubs my skin with every nervous shift of my body as I walk the rest of the way to the football field. It’s silent this time, nobody here but me, Jamie, the photographer that I have yet to meet, and the security team lingering .

I was almost expecting Jamie to be waiting outside of the lounge when I was finished getting ready. He wasn’t. One of the security guards was instead. I would have told him to leave me be if I wasn’t at least ninety percent sure that my husband-to-be had told him to walk with me.

Everything here looks so much bigger and intimidating without the fans and players all around. It almost feels unnatural to be here right now.

The moment my boots meet the turf, I find Jamie standing at the centre of the field. He looks completely at peace, unintimidated by the silence and emptiness.

It makes sense. This place is his second home.

Dressed in dark-wash jeans, beaming white sneakers, and a tan long-sleeve the same exact shade as my boots, he turns to face me, grinning wide.

I turn my head to tell the guard that he doesn’t need to follow me anymore, but he’s already gone, hanging back in the tunnel.

A wolf whistle carries through the field, and I shake my head, choking on a laugh when Jamie lowers his fingers from his mouth.

“Goddamn gorgeous,” he calls, heated gaze fixed on me.

I reach him and paw at my dress, clearly fidgeting. “You don’t think I look overdressed?”

“Absolutely not. You’re just showing me up.”

“He’s not wrong. You look amazing. Both of you do. These photos are going to be incredible,” a woman says, joining us.

I turn to her and smile appreciatively. She offers me her hand as I give her a quick once-over.

“I’m Kye, your photographer for the day. I hope you don’t mind starting here on the field today. I’ve been told to focus on the importance of football in your lives,” she explains.

I shake her hand and nod while my stomach pinches. It shouldn’t matter where we get photos taken. We’re here because of football in the first place. Photos of anything different wouldn’t make sense.

Jamie moves to my side, hovering. “Thank you, Kye. We’re excited to get started.”

“Great. I guess we can just start with some poses using a ball and go from there. How about you two get together on the centreline, and we can mix the poses up between playful and romantic.”

“Alright,” I say.

Jamie breaks away to snag a football from the pile a few feet away and spreads his long fingers over the laces. His hand is so massive that it makes the ball look regular-sized when I know it would be uncomfortable for me to hold it the same way.

“What about a snap position? Surely you know how to do one of those, Jamie,” Kye suggests, a slight teasing note in her tone.

Something sharp pricks my side when Jamie laughs at her joke, and she lets her eyes wander up and down his body. I ignore the entire interaction and wait for instructions.

Jamie points the ball at her and then asks, “You gonna blow a whistle for me, Coach?”

“I don’t have one. You could teach me how to use my fingers, though.”

My back snaps straight as I pause, stretching out my fingers when they try to curl.

“We’ll just use our imaginations,” I bite out, trapping a growl in my throat. “How do you want us to stand?”

Kye lifts the camera in her hands and points to a spot on the field. “Let’s start with you throwing the ball back to Jamie, and then we’ll move into a second shot. We’ll pose as though you’re tackling him while grabbing the ball. After that, we can do a few more fun poses.”

“Great.”

Silence.

“Here, Bandit,” Jamie murmurs before tossing me the ball .

I barely catch it and push past the embarrassment of that while turning my back to him and waiting for confirmation that he’s gotten in position before doing anything else.

“Yeah, just like that, Jamie. Maybe bend a bit more. Don’t be afraid to stick your butt out,” Kye instructs.

Clearly, her teasing remarks have begun to fray on my nerves because every word she speaks has me debating throwing the ball at her face.

Jamie laughs again.

Again .

It’s so incredibly innocent. His friendly nature shouldn’t piss me off, but I’m silently encouraging him to tell her to go away.

I attempt to replicate the stance I watched the player from last night’s game do and shove the ball down into the turf. The entire pose feels ridiculous in my dress and boots, but I’m not in the mood to question it.

With the whole fan-meets-player thing, it makes sense. Even if Jamie doesn’t even play this position in football.

“Blakely, maybe don’t push on the ball so hard. We need the ball to look natural,” Kye says.

It would look natural flying through the air on its way to hit you ? —

A hot palm grabs my waist, and I jump, nearly falling forward on my face. Jamie’s cologne hits me before he’s catching me, steadying me with his body.

“You’re killing me right now,” he mutters, slowly easing back.

His arm stays wrapped around my middle like an anchor that I didn’t know I needed. Too bad I’m feeling incredibly pissy right now and don’t want it there.

“Would you prefer cremation or a burial?”

“There won’t be anything left of me to bury. I’ll already be up in flames by the time we’re done in this position.”

I peel his arm off and grit my teeth, letting up on the ball. “I don’t need help right now. ”

“Alright. But you don’t have to lean so far forward. Just enough that you can touch the ball to the ground.”

“I’ve got it.”

I refuse to look back at him. Not when I’m clearly feeling off. Maybe it’s just Kye’s lack of professionalism. This isn’t something I’d be choosing to do today if it weren’t for our contract, so the least she could do is focus and stop flirting with an engaged man.

Jamie moves back, and a moment later, Kye is clapping.

“Smile and laugh, guys. Here we go. Throw the ball back in three . . . two . . . one!”

I use more force than necessary as I paste on a smile and glance behind my shoulder. Jamie grunts, his grin wobbly as he cradles the ball I’ve just launched in his hands.

“Great! Now, Blakely, run at him and jump into his arms,” Kye instructs, her camera in her face.

Jamie recovers quickly enough to shoot me a wink and hold the ball above his head. I narrow my eyes and palm my waist.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I demand.

“Nope. Come here, wife. The ball is all yours. You know you want to send me on my ass.”

“And why would I want that?”

“You tell me,” he coos, waving the ball.

There isn’t much distance between us, but I make the most of it. Clutching onto my frustration, I barrel toward him, the heels of my boots digging into the turf.

Excitement makes his eyes sparkle, the blue becoming lighter with every inch I erase between us. By the time I’m jumping, he’s so, so close.

I know he won’t drop me. The trust that erupts in my chest is almost as startling as the act of him abandoning the ball and expertly gripping my thighs, guiding them around his waist.

The strong expanse of his chest and hips keeps me steady as I engage my thigh muscles to hold myself up. His arms shift, one coiling around my back while the other holds my cheek in a lovers’ embrace.

Kye’s camera flashes and clicks with every photo she snaps. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t give instructions, so I continue going with the flow.

“You’re beautiful when you’re jealous, Bandit,” Jamie muses, his thumb learning the shape of my bottom lip.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“I’m thinking of getting these photos blown up and put on the walls at home. Maybe in the locker room here too. Thoughts?” He switches topics without a fight, letting the jealousy thing go.

It’s just another way he shows his kindness.

“What if they’re ugly? Do you want the entire team to see them?”

“There’s no better way to make sure nobody pops a boner in the showers than forcing them to look at my ugly mug on the wall.”

My laugh is genuine, yanked from my chest. I fall into our act and run my fingers through the blond curls flopping over his forehead, forcing them back.

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly, Jamie.”

“You say the nicest things to me. I’m spoiled.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll hang the photos myself.”

“Yeah, that’s my Bandit. I missed you.”