“When did you find out?”
“Yesterday. I wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell you. It was supposed to be your Christmas present.”
He takes my hand and pulls me over to the couch, and we sit in the warm glow of the fire. “Lamb, you’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” He gazes at me and says, “You.” He puts his hand on my stomach and rubs it softly. “This baby…our baby”—he pulls his eyebrows together over his stormy eyes—“is more than I could have asked for.” He looks up at me and says with awe, “We’re going to be family.”
“Yeah.” I nod over the lump in my throat. “We’re going to be a family.”
He pulls me into his arms and I curl up in his lap.
“Look”—he points to the dark windows that surround the living room—“it’s snowing again.”
I look outside and see little white snowflakes floating gently through the night sky. “It’s so beautiful.”
He looks down at me and brushes my hair off my forehead. “Since you gave me my Christmas present early, I guess I can give you yours.”
“You got me something?” I ask excitedly.
He pulls me to my feet and over to the Christmas tree. We stand in front of it and I admire the beautiful ornaments glowing against the white lights.
“Lucy, you’re the first person who loved me. Did you know that?”
I look up at him and smile softly.
“I’d never even heard that word spoken to me, until you said it for the first time.”
I nod over the crack that shoots across my heart.
“But I knew I loved you long before that. I could feel it inside me like a force of nature.” He smiles softly. “As the days and years passed, it became as necessary as oxygen. When it was gone, I couldn’t breathe. I tried to, but without you…” He traces my face with his fingers and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I was half alive. I never want to feel that way again, Lamb.”
I inhale a shaky breath. “You don’t have to.”
He looks at the Christmas tree and reaches for one of branches. “I got you this,” he says, pulling a small ribbon off the tree. He holds up a diamond ring that’s tied to the end of it and I suck in a stunned breath. “Marry me, Lamb. Be with me for the rest of our lives. Stay with me forever.”
I nod and cry, “Yes. I’ll marry you, Sam.”
“Yeah?” He exhales and blinks his watery eyes.
“Yes,” I cry. “Of course.”
He reaches for my left hand and slides the sparkly ring onto my finger.
“I’ll never leave you, Sam. I’m yours. Forever.” I put his hand on my stomach and vow, “We’re yours.”
Chapter 11
Lucy, Three Months Later
I hold Sebastian’s arm so I don’t topple over in my high heels as we make our way ringside behind Miles.
Miles stops and says something to one of the announcers seated in front of a laptop and a microphone.
He looks up and smiles at me as I pass him.
“What was that about?” Bas shouts in my ear over the music blaring through the arena speakers. The bass echoes off the cement floors, reverberating all the way up through my body and vibrating through my chest.
“I don’t know.” I shrug and follow Miles to our seats. I want to sit down, but the buzz of the crowd keeps me on my feet. Everyone is clapping and cheering with excitement, including me. I smile at Sebastian, who has a giant grin on his face.
“Okay, these are the best seats we’ve ever gotten,” he says, looking up at the ring. “Paul’s going to have to up his game.”
“I think we might have a new in.” I laugh. “Is he feeling any better?”
“What?” Bas shouts, dropping his head to mine.
“Is Paul feeling better?”
“He’s fine. He’s a total baby when he’s sick. I still can’t believe he passed this up.” He smirks and turns his attention back to the ring, where two tall bikini-clad models are posing and blowing kisses to the camera.
“Haven’t we moved past this as a society?” I ask, watching them strut around in their sparkly bikinis.
“Ring girls have been a part of the glitz and glam of boxing since the sixties,” Bas answers. “I mean, if they didn’t hold up signs indicating the next round, how else would anyone know?” He laughs and I roll my eyes.
“They’ve got nothing on you,” I say, glancing at his burgundy slim-fit tuxedo jacket.
He straightens his black bow tie and runs his fingers down the middle of his pleated white shirt. “It does say old Hollywood, doesn’t it?”
“It has Gene Kelly written all over it.”
“The fact that you know who he is makes me immensely happy,” he says seriously.
The girls leave the ring and the lights dim, igniting the crowd. They hoot and holler and clap even louder as red and blue spotlights move around the arena to the beat of the music. When I hear the intro to Eminem’s “Phenomenal” begin to play, I know that Sam is entering the arena. Apparently so does everyone else, because the entire arena goes crazy, shouting and screaming in unison.
Sebastian gives me excited eyes. “This is crazier than Madison Square Garden!”
“Sam said when he fights in Atlanta the crowd is on another level.”
“How you doing? You all right?” Miles asks, checking on me.
“Yeah.”
“Sam’s coming,” he says, pointing up at the monitors over the ring.
“I know.” I look up and watch him move through the crowd with Joe and the rest of his crew. Except for Tristan, who’s in the hospital again. Thankfully Molly is there with him.
Leon and Mikey hold up two of Sam’s belts, showing them off to the excited crowd, and they shine in the spotlight that’s following them to the ring.
Defending titleholder Sam Cole is making his way to the ring through the excited crowd as his beautiful fiancée, Lucy, cheers him on.
Sebastian nudges me, barely containing his excitement, and I smile over the butterflies that suddenly fill my stomach. I look at Miles and he gives me a wink.
Like Sam, she, too, is a product of the foster care system here in Atlanta…You can definitely hear the excitement in this hometown crowd tonight…Joe Maloney, his longtime coach, encouraged him to take a few months off after he reinjured his ribs during the Phillips fight at the end of the year, but I’ll tell you, he looks stronger than ever…He sure does. Andre Ricci has his work cut out for him tonight.
Sam climbs into the ring and my heart races on cue, like it always does when he’s about to fight.
Lucy, Thirteen Years Old
“What did you say?” Sam says to the boy who just called me a snowflake.
The boy crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the chain-link fence that surrounds the basketball court at our school. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He looks at me and winks, and it ties my stomach into knots.
“Sam, don’t,” I plead when I see his shoulders tense, but he ignores me and lunges toward the boy like an unstoppable freight train.
He grabs his shirt and pulls him off the fence, shoving him back several feet down the sidewalk. When the boy gets his footing, he charges Sam like a bull, but Sam catches him and shoves him off, throwing a right hook at his face that cuts his cheek.