Her hand ran over the back of my head. Lips pressed against the top of my head.
She took my ring from my other hand and rested my palm against her chest. “You’ve made my dreams come true in more ways than one, and I would never have had the strength to do half the things in my life, if you hadn’t believed in me first. I love you, Dare. I love you, Keyton. I love you, husband.” She slid the ring onto my finger.
Tonight was a night for closeness. A quiet serenity fell over our little secret, in our home, which was with each other. We sipped our drinks and watched the snow fall outside the window.
“Every day, I thank the universe for putting me in my garage the night you first played. It scares me to think how things would’ve gone for me, if I’d never heard you sing.” My life would be empty and I wouldn’t even know it.
“And I might not have ever been brave enough to let anyone hear my voice, if you hadn’t been the first to listen.” She squeezed me tighter and sighed.
“Will you miss it? Performing?” I hated the idea of her giving up so much, of stepping away from a spotlight that pulled most people toward it like an inescapable tractor beam.
The light caressed her skin, outlining the curve of her nose and the slight parting of her lips. Her gaze stayed trained on the snow outside. “Maybe, someday? But right now, I’m happy to say it’s the last performance of my career.”
“Maybe next season, I’ll be able to watch you from the freezing cold seats like everyone else.”
I took her glass and set it down on the nightstand along with mine.
Shifting, I intertwined our fingers. “This was my last season.”
She shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. Her head shook from side to side. “What? Why?”
“It’s time.” Being on the road away from her had been hard, especially when she’d given a life on the road up for me.
She tried to shake her hands free, but I held on tight. “But you’ve worked so hard.”
“And proven to myself I could do it. There’s nothing else left to do.”
Her gaze intensified, almost outraged on my behalf. “Don’t do this for me.”
“I do everything for you.” I kissed the back of her hand. “But this decision is all mine. It’s time. Eight championship rings is enough. All I’m doing at this point is courting an injury that might take me away from you. As long as you’re by my side, that’s all I need.”
“Dare…”
Now I loved it when she called me that. Another thing only for us. “There isn’t a thing I regret about how I’d played. It’s time to move on to the next part of my life. The best part.”
She softened, holding our interlocked hands against her chest. “What part is that?”
“The part where I get to wake up next to you every morning, and go to sleep with you wrapped in my arms.”
Epilogue
BAY
I turned up the music, making notes every few bars on the changes I needed to make.
The studio we’d had built had all the equipment and space that rivaled some of the best ones I’d ever worked in. But this one was mine. Waking up in the same place every morning and waking up beside Keyton was a winner over my touring life hands down.
The four-bedroom red-brick house with white shutters and details on an acre of land was close enough to a main street that we could walk to the grocery store. A small town, only a few minutes outside of the city, which was the perfect location to be in our little bubble. A lot of other athletes lived nearby, including the house Keyton had rented for my girls’ night with Piper and Felicia only a few blocks away, so there hadn’t been too many run-ins with fans since we moved into our house.
Our house. The words still felt strange, but so right. Being in Philly kept us close to Keyton’s friends, who were now also my friends and kept him busy with the work at his foundation. It was a life full of simple pleasures, lots of quiet time and not so quiet time when we were both naked in a snap without the same demands that had run our lives for so many years.
The door burst open, thudding against the soundproof wall. Before I could spin my chair, I was whirled around so quickly I gripped the armrests so I didn’t fly out. “Holy shit, Bay!”
“What happened?”
My heart shifted into overdrive.
“Holy shit.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me out of my seat, holding me so tightly my arms were pinned at my sides. “You did it!” Jumping up and down, he shook me even more, still dizzy from the chair spin.
It wasn’t urgency in his tone, but excitement. “I’m completely willing to take credit for whatever I did, but maybe you could tell me first.” Laughing, I bent back to look at him.
He let me go, sitting me back in my seat, and shoved his phone in front of my face.
The glowing screen blinded me and my eyes, used to the dim light from the studio, I tried to focus on the words and images.
Seconds ticked by as I scrolled the screen looking for what might’ve lead to his wall-banging entrance.
My hand shot to my mouth. “Holy shit!”
He took the phone from my hand. “And the newcomer shocked the world with his debut LP, Fixtures, produced by none other than the hopefully-not-retired-for-much-longer pop powerhouse, Bay. Both will be up for a golden gramophone in February.” His voice was full of awe.
His smile looked bigger than mine felt. “See, I told you.” He braced his hands on the armrest and sank to his knees in front of me.
I ran my hand along his cheek, looking at the man who’d never doubted me, even when I’d doubted myself. “You did.”
My phone lit up on the console, a familiar name flashing on the screen. “Looks like Holden’s losing his touch. You found out before he did.”
“Are you going to answer it?” He nodded toward the phone.
I draped my arms over his shoulders. “No. I can call him back. First, I want to celebrate with my husband.”
“You’re still okay with keeping it quiet?” He stared intently at me.
He’d suggested we not broadcast the news. The media circus was finally dying down around us. News and social media cycles raced for fresh faces and juicy stories. We were becoming old news and the limelight was dimming. He was worried about how the news might thrust us back into the spotlight we were more than happy to step out of outside his foundation work.
At this point, I was amazed we’d managed it as long as we had.
“For as long as you want. I like having this secret with you. Something that’s just ours.”
He wheeled me closer. “I can’t say I don’t mind having TNG all to myself.”
“Is that so, Dare?” I swept my hands over the thick column of his neck.
“That’s so.” His hands dropped from the arms of the chairs to my waist. “Have I ever told you you’re breathtakingly talented?”
“Only once a week. I can’t say I mind hearing it.” As confident as I’d pretended to be when I’d delivered the final tracks to Spencer and Holden, I’d been holding my breath to see how they’d be received. Four number one hits on a debut album wasn’t too terrible.