Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(103)

Kissing her cheek, I rasped, “Thank you, princess.”

Our three boys came to me next, and I could barely f*cking speak through each hug and “I love you, Daddy.” Molly stood beside me, clicking away on her camera and unashamedly crying as she watched the impromptu presentation.

My kids had clearly caught my battle with my emotions, if their wide-eyed looks were any indication. And I had to turn away for a moment, trying my best to pull myself together. The last thing I wanted was to walk out onto the field a friggin’ emotional mess.

And after all, superheroes never cried.

As I looked at my beautiful kids, my chest swelled. I’ve never let myself forget how friggin’ lucky I am that I got this life. Got my girl when I nearly lost her and got four perfect kids on Earth—and one in heaven—when I never thought I’d have any.

“Mr. Prince, we’re ready. Please follow,” the field manager announced, and I heard Molly instruct behind me, “Okay, two of you take my hands; two take Daddy’s.”

Two hands instantly encased mine; I knew who’d be with me and who’d be with Mol. Glancing down, I smirked to see I was right: Taylor, our girl, and Archie, who apparently believed I was a superhero.

I turned to Molly, who was holding hands with Isaac and Elias—now happily in his headphones—took a deep breath, and mouthed, “You ready?”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head dramatically and mouthed back, “No!”

Music began playing, and the announcer hyped up the crowd as I laughed and winked at my wife’s worried face. “Seattle, please welcome to the field, for the final time, your quarterback, Romeo ‘The Bullet’ Prince!”

With a squeeze of my hands, my family and I walked forward out of the tunnel. As we stepped on the field to fireworks and the roar of the crowd, I finally let myself exhale. This field, these supporters were my second home and I was going to miss them so damn much.

After a lap of the field, waving and thanking the fans, we were ushered to a stage on the fifty-yard line. Molly and the children stood beside me as I walked to the microphone to address the crowd.

“Good evening, Seattle!” The booming response from the crowd was deafening; the sea of flashing cameras and applauding fans, all of them on their feet, was a sight I would never forget. They were all here tonight for me, and my legs shook slightly from the enormity of the moment.

I waved to the crowd; they gradually quieted to silence.

“When I came to y’all twenty years ago, I had no idea what to expect.” I laughed into the microphone and turned to Molly, who nodded in agreement. “I’d never left Alabama for any real period of time, had just got married to my girl.” I reached out my hand, and Molly moved beside me, holding it right back. “And suddenly we were thrust into the crazy world of the NFL, and y’all welcomed us with open arms.” The crowd stamped their feet in the stands and bullhorns sounded around the packed stadium.

I watched my children drop their mouths at the deafening reaction and gape in shock at the thousands of people all screaming for their daddy. Turning back to the mic, I waited until they quieted and continued. “The team and staff are my family, you guys who support us week after week are my family, and we’re going to miss y’all so damn much. I never knew what I’d do after retiring from pro ball, but an opportunity has come up, and I am happy to announce that I have accepted the position of Quarterback Coach at the Alabama Crimson Tide. After many happy years in Seattle, my family and I are going back down south, back to my home, but I’ll never forget Seattle and all the amazing years we’ve enjoyed here.”

Squeezing Molly’s hand for strength, I brought it to my lips and pressed a kiss to her wedding ring. Coach had offered me a position with the Tide coaching team the night we went to dinner, and Molly agreed I should take it. She thought a change would be good for us all.

“My wife has been a professor at the University of Washington for over ten years now, and my kids, well, all my kids are Seattle born and bred, something I’ll never let them forget.”

Roving a gaze around the huge stadium one last time, I lowered my eyes, holding back the threatening lump inching up my throat, and said, “Thanks to y’all for making my career here the best time of my life.”

The crowd erupted once more, and with a drum roll from the band, a large banner dropped from the rafters: my name and jersey number, now officially retired in my honor.

Staring up at the banner, a sense of accomplishment filled me. I’d lived my dream to the best of my ability and loved every minute of playing for this team.

Suddenly several sets of hands wrapped around my waist and legs, as my children ran to me in support, and a familiar arm slipped around my waist: Shakespeare.

“You did it, baby,” she whispered, still staring proudly at my banner, happy tears in her eyes. “You did it all.”

Cupping her face, I pressed a kiss to her lips and said, “You ready to get back to Bama, Mrs. Prince?”

Moving in for another kiss, she giggled and replied, “Roll Tide!”





Epilogue





Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Six months later…



Shit. The Tide QB I was watching on the new game tapes Coach’d just sent me had rendered me speechless. His quick feet, the power of his passes and his running game were sick. He was a triple threat and, no doubt, the kid had some serious friggin’ skills.