He draws me to him with his eyes, inclines his face in perfect position with my own, and lays his mouth on mine gently. My hands wrap around his neck, gliding against his hair and caressing it between my fingers. Like a surging tide of warmth, leaving me helpless in his arms, my heart begins to sing the loudest of melodies. This beautiful man is all mine.
His insistent mouth continues to part my swollen lips, sending wild tremors to every inch of my body. I pull away, shallow breaths consuming me as I stare deeply into his captivating green eyes.
“You could have shown me a card box, and I would have said yes.”
“Well, if that’s the case…”
I gently slap his chest, my cheekbones hurting from the continuous smile I’m unable to hold back.
“I love you, Olly.”
“Of course, you do, Gabs.”
I pull his face down to mine with annoyance, playfully teasing him.
“Such an arrogant Aussie.”
Gabriella
“Here, let me help you.”
Aubrey is bursting at the seams. Six days overdue with her second child, and she’s become a miserable beast. I shouldn’t use the word beast, after all, she is my best friend. An overly hormonal loose cannon would be more precise.
Chance has raced to be by her side, latching onto her arm to help her off the sofa.
“Princess, how about I get that drink for you?”
“I think you’ve done enough.”
Oliver is in the kitchen, eyes wide and hiding from Aubrey. He isn’t a fan of cooking but smartly offered to prepare the salad and garlic bread to avoid her.
Poor Chance, I will give credit where credit is due. He has been taking care of CJ, doing everything he can for Aubrey to make her comfortable, yet this baby is refusing to come out.
Escaping to the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of iced tea.
“Was I this bad when Alexander was born?”
“You had your moments…”
I playfully punch him in the arm.
“She looks miserable.”
“Any day now,” he says, chopping up the cucumber. “Chance and I have a bet running.”
“What... that’s awful,” I scold him. “Aubrey’s about to give birth. This is an important moment. No bets should be placed on—”
“I want in,” Aubrey shouts from the sofa. “How much?”
“Princess, I hardly think—”
“One hundred bucks buy-in,” Olly states, wiping his hands on the dishtowel. “I’ve locked in Friday.”
“And you?” Aubrey stares at Chance with a less-than-enthused expression. “The instigator of all this madness.”
Chance scratches the back of his neck, torn between participating or keeping his mouth shut. “I’ve locked in Thursday.”
“Fine, I’ll take tomorrow,” Aubrey agrees, rubbing her stomach.
“Well, fine.” I throw my hands up in the air. “If you’re all playing, I’m in. I’m locking in tonight.”
There’s a hush over the room.
Chance closes his eyes as if he’s saying a silent prayer.
Aubrey shakes her head, shrugging off the notion.
“That’s a mighty big bet, Gabs.”
“Look at her.” Everyone turns around to look at Aubrey. “Her stomach has dropped, it’s almost touching her goddamn knees. She cleaned our pantry and even labeled all of the containers with color-coded stickers and stocked them in alphabetical order.”
“So, I like things in order,” Aubrey exhales.
“And you keep asking Chance to rub your lower back because your back pain is intolerable.”
Olly raises his hand, quick to command the room.
“We’re all locked in,” he informs us. “Now, let’s have dinner, and for Christ’s sake, Aubrey, keep your legs shut till Friday.”
Olly lifts Alexander onto his lap as he attempts to eat his spaghetti bolognese. CJ sits beside him infatuated with Alexander’s chubby little feet.
I serve myself a plate and welcome the glass of wine since I stopped breastfeeding months ago.
Alexander Miles Madden is exactly five months and three days old. Our wicked week of making up resulted in me falling pregnant straight away. To say we were shocked would have been an understatement.
At the time, I argued science and swore you could get pregnant doing anal. I blamed Olly’s radioactive sperm with supernatural powers fighting through my diaphragm. It took us days to wrap the pregnancy around our heads until our first ultrasound when it finally sunk in.
We both couldn’t haven’t asked for a more precious baby. Alexander has everyone wrapped around his chubby little fingers. He’s the spitting image of Olly—nothing at all like me.
The pregnancy, and the birth, meant we had to put off the wedding. Between Olly playing soccer, sorting out our visas so we could live in both the States and Australia, plus working with Chance on setting up the youth soccer academy, there was time for little else. I enjoy telling people I am technically still on the market just to rile up a reaction from him.
Olly’s phone on the counter begins to chime, and quickly, he passes Alexander over to me.
“Hello, Oliver speaking,” he says, walking out of the room to take the call.
Chance places his fork down at the same time Pixy walks into the room and rubs his body against Chance’s chair.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help with the fundraiser next week?” he asks, rubbing behind Pixy’s ear. “And I’m almost done with interviewing the summer coaches.”
I swallow the piece of bread I’m eating, balancing Alexander on one knee. “All under control. You just go have a baby.”
Aubrey huffs. “Yeah… Chance is going to be so busy.”
We chat for a little while longer until Olly walks back into the room. His expression is blanching, almost pale. Rubbing his arms absently, he sits at the table in utter silence.
Worried, I place my hand on his. “Olly, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been asked to attend a meeting here in LA…” he trails off in a neutral tone. “They’re offering me a deal to play for major league soccer.”
Chance scrapes his chair along the floor, jumping up. “Mate! This is fucking amazing!”
“Chance, language,” Aubrey scolds. “Olly, what does this mean… major league
