Beauty and the Baller (Strangers in Love #1)(94)

She straightens in her seat, her face flushing. “We haven’t ‘hooked up’!”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, right, I know—we’re dating; I just meant we reconnected after knowing-each-other-in-high-school kind of thing . . .”

Caleb says he’s grateful for his grandmother, and she says the same about him. Bonnie murmurs that she’s thankful for her son, and Sonia says she’s grateful for new beginnings—and we all know what she means.

Sabine clears her throat. “When my mama died, it was the worst day of my life, and the only person who could make that better is sitting next to me. My sister. She is the best person I know. That’s all.” She stares down at her plate, and I see Nova taking her hand and squeezing it under the table.

I stand. “I’ve told my team if you win the heart, you win everything, but I’m not sure I truly understood it until now.” My gaze lands on Nova. “I do now, and I’m ready for the rest.”

Lois sighs, dabbing at her eyes.

“And we’re going to win state!” I declare, and the group whoops in agreement.

Nova raises her tea glass in a toast, a mist in her eyes as she sweeps them over the table. “If you’d asked me a year ago whether I’d be living in Blue Belle and loving every minute, I would have laughed, but it’s my anchor, as you all are. Thank you for coming to my home and being part of my family.” Her sapphire eyes drape over me, lingering, a softness there. “I hope we spend many, many holidays together. And win state! Go Bobcats!”

Cheers go around the table.

I lean into her, brushing my lips over her cheek.

Turns out her words are prophetic.

For we do spend many holidays together. And we do win state, many, many times as we spend the rest of our lives together.





Epilogue


RONAN

Several years later

Cleo, my oldest at five, gets a defiant tilt to her chin as she cocks her hip. One hand flips her long blonde hair. “My rosebush is best.”

“Yours was first, yes, so it’s bigger, but all the bushes are awesome,” I reply diplomatically.

“I guess. Mine was first, so I win.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

I bite back a grin as we head to the truck, where I pull out the new bush we bought in Austin at the same store where Nova’s mom got hers.

A few minutes later, two-year-old Lia wobbles down the steps of the house, then teeters, making me inhale a sharp breath. Standing in the flower bed, I let the shovel fall and dash up to grab her, setting her on my hip. I push the riot of curly dark hair out of her face. “Who let you out, sweet pea?”

She takes her thumb out of her mouth. “Me!” Then she glares down at her sister, a look of triumph on her face. “Mine!”

I huff out a laugh. I don’t know if she means I’m hers or her rosebush is the best. Maybe both. Born close to my birthday, she’s the most like me so far. Competitive—and a Star Wars fan. Granted I’ve shown her only the first one, but she’s the one who watched with wide eyes while Cleo said it was boring, then flounced off to play outside.

Their two yellow rosebushes are planted side by side in our landscaping, just like Nova’s and Sabine’s next door. My gaze goes to Nova’s house. We have some amazing memories there: that first Christmas, a big championship celebration after we won state, birthdays, and then our outdoor wedding in the side yard that connects the house with mine. It was a small affair with family and close friends under a white tent in the spring. She carried flowers from her mom’s garden and wore a stunning white V-neck wedding dress. Nova would never sell that house, and we’ve spent time on it during the off season, painting the outside and modernizing the kitchen. In fact, I think Lia was conceived the day we worked on the kitchen. One minute I’m putting up a backsplash, and the next, Nova is eyeing my muscles, then stripping out of her frayed shorts and Bobcats shirt.

“I be good,” Lia says, then squirms out of my arms and joins her sister. She peers down at the hole I dug, then looks up at me with bright-blue eyes. “What goes there?”

Cleo pokes her sister’s arm. “Don’t you remember? They put in a note. Let’s ask Daddy; he knows everything. Right, Daddy?”

The trust in her eyes, combined with Daddy, makes my heart swell.

I ruffle her hair. “That’s right. Mommy and I write a special note for you, about all the good things we want for you. Then we set the plant in and let the roots grow around it.”

“It’s for our glow,” Cleo tells her younger sister in a sage voice. “We all have it because we’re special.”

“Glow!” Lia announces and looks around the dirt. “Where is it?”

Cleo palm slaps her own face. “Gah, she’s stupid!”

“Not!” Lia says.

I bend down to Lia and tap her chest. “Your glow is right there in the center of your heart.”

“Special!” she says, then pouts. “No Oliver. I’m best!”

Cleo rolls her eyes. “He gets one too, silly. It’s his first birthday.” She frowns. “I wish we got presents for his birthday, but Mama said no.”

“Presents!” Lia calls out.

“Your present is you get to help set the bush in,” I say, and they squint at me with identical disdain.