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I think back to our bitter hatred for one another when we first ran into each other again after so many years had passed. As it turns out, those strong feelings were never hatred at all, but a conditioned response to what we thought we had to do because it had been ingrained into us from such a young age.
I never hated him. Instead, I trained myself to believe I did as a defense mechanism. And now, with our entire future before us, I feel all the love like an overwhelming wave in my soul.
After the ceremony, we have cake catered by the bakery that made those delicious kitchen sink cookies as our closest friends and family bid us congratulations. We spend an hour dancing in the lobby of the Complex to songs we danced to when we were teenagers. It’s short and sweet as far as receptions go, and that’s it. We hug our guests goodbye, including each of Lincoln’s brothers who all have something sweet to say to me about how much time has passed and how happy they are that Lincoln and I found our way back together, and then we head home.
We’re alone for the night as Sam offered to get Jonah to school in the morning, and on the way home, he says, “My dad showed up today.”
“He did?”
I didn’t see him at the wedding, and I can’t help but wonder if there was an altercation before the event I wasn’t privy to. Aside from the Rivera one, of course.
He nods, his eyes on the road. “I actually have two more pieces of news, too.”
My brows crinkle together. “What are they?”
“Grayson said he wants to come to the Aces next season. Not to coach, but to play one season with me.”
“Really? Can you just…do that?” I ask.
“It’s complicated, but probably. His contract is up this season, and we can probably get him here. The question is whether Jack will want him here considering what happened with the other Nash brother.”
“Asher?” I say. He nods. “Would you want Grayson here?”
“I’ve always been closest to him, and I know what a great player he is. If he wants to play one more year and finish his career here, I’d love to have him.”
I consider that a beat, and then I ask, “What was the other news?”
“My mom also got the paternity results.”
My chest tightens for a beat. Now that we’re married, if he isn’t a Nash…will our last name change?
I’m not sure why that’s the thought that plows into me. “And?” I ask.
“As it turns out, I’m Eddie Nash’s son. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand why they didn’t just run a test years ago to avoid the bitter resentment he held toward me my entire life, but I’m not sure it would’ve mattered. I changed his life in ways he didn’t like, and he would’ve blamed me regardless.”
“Well, paternity tests weren’t really all that common back then, old man,” I say, and he laughs. “So what happened when he showed up today?”
He’s quiet a beat as he seems to fight with his emotions, and his voice is quiet when he says, “He told me he’s proud of me.”
“Oh, Linc,” I murmur, and I reach over and squeeze his hand. I know how much that must have meant to him to hear those words after all this time.
“I felt like one apology wouldn’t change the past, so I didn’t invite him to stay. But I’m not ruling out a relationship with him in the future if he’s willing to put in the work to show me he’s changed.”
“I support whatever you decide,” I say. I’d warn him to be careful, but I know he will be.
Once we arrive home, we collapse on the couch in our wedding attire—my white dress, his tux—and put our feet up. He nuzzles my neck, the scruff on his chin tickling my neck in a delightful way, and then I feel his lips as he kisses me there.
“I love you, my wife,” he says, and I grin.
“I will never get tired of hearing you call me that, my husband.”
He leans up, and his eyes find mine. “I feel like it doesn’t get much better than this. I just wish we had more time.” We only have today and tomorrow, when we’ll spend most of the day together naked except for dinner out to celebrate and film for the podcast—and then he’ll be back at the office on Friday.
“We will,” I say, thinking ahead to the end of this season. It’ll be here before we know it, and so will this little one who’s starting to kick around in my tummy.
A soft smile quirks up his lips, and he shakes his head a little. “Incredible,” he murmurs.
“What?” I ask.
