Getting Schooled (Getting Some #1)(75)

My father nods. Then he lifts my veil and kisses my cheek. “Go get him, sweetheart.”

I turn back towards Garrett, kick off my shoes, lift the hem of my dress—and I run. I run to the boy who always had my heart . . . to the man who always will.

My bouquet bursts when I jump, showering us in white and indigo petals. And Garrett catches me, laughing. He’ll always catch me.

He kisses me long and deep. Then he sets me on my feet, and the priest from Saint Bart’s begins the ceremony. And I become Mrs. Coach Garrett Daniels.

At last.





Epilogue 2


Baby D


Garrett





It’s our first game in October—Parker Thompson’s a junior this year—still a great kid and now, post-growth spurt, he’s a full-out monster on the field.

“Yes!” I clap my hands as he completes a thirty-yard pass for a first down. “Beautiful! That’s the way to do it, boys!”

“Nice play, Parker! Woo!”

I hear my wife’s voice loud and clear from the stands behind me. My wife. I look down at the thick platinum band on my left hand. How fucking cool is that?

Then I turn around, finding her pretty blond head, checking up on her. She’s safe and sound, sitting between her parents and her sister. Callie’s wearing a long-sleeve white shirt under an extra-large Lakeside Lions football jersey that I had custom made for her last month. It matches the one I’m wearing right now, but where mine says COACH D. across the back, Callie’s reads, MRS. COACH D. across her shoulder blades. And in front—right above her round, adorably gigantic, pregnant belly—it says BABY D.

On the field, the ref makes a shit call and throws a flag on one of my guards. I open my mouth to bitch . . . but Callie beats me to it.

“What the hell was that? Get some glasses or get off the field!”

The pregnancy has made Callie fantastically insatiable in bed . . . and ferocious in the stands. It makes my heart . . . and my cock . . . a very happy camper.

Even though she’s scheduled to pop any second now, she’s been teaching the first few weeks of school—she loves it that much. After the baby comes, she’ll take a maternity leave, but has sworn to McCarthy she’s coming back. Between my parents and her parents, her sister and my sister-in-law, we have no shortage of child-care helpers who will adore the hell out of our kid. We’ve spent the weekends getting the nursery ready and more hours than I can say, just staring at her bump, watching our baby move and stretch inside her.

It’s miraculous. More exciting than football—the most wondrous thing we’ve ever done.

I don’t worry anymore about not being as good of a teacher because I have a kid of my own, or screwing them up when they get here. Because Callie and I make the best team—it’s impossible for us not to be awesome at anything we do together.

Sammy Zheng kicks a beautiful field goal, adding another three points to our side of the board. I clap and tap the players’ backs when they run in . . . and then I realize something’s wrong. Because I don’t hear Callie cheering.

At that same moment, the voice of Callie’s theater student and the announcer for the football games, Michael Salimander, comes through the speakers. His tone starts off semi-robotic, the way rote announcements always sound.

“Coach Daniels, please report to the announcer’s box. Coach Daniels please report . . .”

And then rote goes right out the fucking window.

“. . . what? Holy shit, Miss Carpenter’s having the baby!”

My head whips around so fast it almost snaps off.

Then Miss McCarthy’s voice echoes in a hail of loudspeaker feedback.

“Daniels! Get your ass up here now!”

In an instant Dean is at my side, eyes flaring wide behind his glasses. “Dude. Looks like there’s somewhere you need to be.”

I throw my clipboard and headset at him—swing my legs over the fence and practically leap up the stands in a single bound.

The way Superman would if he knocked up Lois Lane.

Callie stands in the announcer’s box with her dad’s arm around her back, her hands on her stomach, and a giant wet spot on her maternity jeans.

“Apparently that last call was so bad it broke my water,” she tells me.

Holy shit, we’re having a baby. I don’t know why this thought is really just occurring to me now—but it is. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Mrs. Cockaburrow whispers something to Miss McCarthy, who turns to us raising her arms in protest. “There is no giving birth on school grounds! Our insurance premiums will go through the frigging roof!”

I hold up my hand. “I got it.”

My father-in-law tells me they’ll meet us at the hospital. I swoop my wife into my arms and Miss McCarthy’s voice follows me out the door.

“Remember—Michelle is a beautiful girl’s name!”

The football game has temporarily stopped and as I carry Callie down the stands, everyone claps and cheers and wishes us good luck—even the refs and the opposing team’s players. Callie smiles and waves like the homecoming queen she was.

I jog towards my black SUV—I got rid of the Jeep—my precious cargo needed a safer ride.

I look down at Callie. “You doing okay?”

She rests her head against my shoulder, smiling serenely. “I’m in your arms, Garrett—that means I’m great.”