“You ready?” Ares holds out his hand to help me down from his SUV. Scooping up the canvas tote bag on my lap with one arm, I accept his help with the other.
Dad is waiting for us at the gates to the cemetery. He nods at Ares in greeting, and Ares tightens his hand around mine.
“Mr. Downing.” Ares has accepted the olive branch between them with both hands but errs on the side of formal politeness when they’re in each other’s presence. It’s kind of cute. I’m more than confident that will change in the future, but all progress is good progress.
We make our way to Mom’s grave together in silence. Listening to the rustle of the leaves and the wind whispering among the gravestones, my heart squeezes. I miss her so much the pain is as tangible as the breeze on my face every single second of every day.
When we reach her headstone, Dad unfolds the picnic blanket while Ares helps me unpack the bag in my hand.
“What’s the cake?” Dad jerks at the cardboard box in Ares’s hand.
“It’stres lechesfrom Ares’s family restaurant in town.” My mouth is already watering. It’s one of my favorite cakes in all the world. Abuelita de la Peña insisted on giving us the whole sheet cake when she heard where we were going to be this afternoon. Baked fresh this morning.
As excited as I am to have a slice now, I’m even more looking forward to the slice I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow once the flavors have all had time to marinate.
By the time Ares slices up the cake, I’m drooling. Dad has poured plastic cups full of non-alcoholic apple cider, I’ve handed out napkins and party hats for the four of us.
When I get comfortable on the blanket, cross-legged, Ares pats my hand in quiet reassurance. The last time I was here was a difficult moment for me, but after that long conversation with Dad about our relationship, we’ve both made a concerted effort to improve things.
Dad lifts his cup, a tremble in his hand barely visible. “Another birthday beyond the grave, darling.”
My throat clogs at the affection in his voice and the tears welling in his eyes. My heart hurts, for his loss and my own.
“It has been a busy one for our Ellie-Rae. She has quite the update for you this year.”
I give him a watery smile. So far, we have had more birthdays together when Mom was alive than we have had since she’s been gone. But each year since her death, we come here with cake and party hats, no matter how busy Dad gets, and tell her all about our year. It’s a celebration of achievements, of life, of love, and this year, Dad suggested Ares come along with us, which just about burst my heart in my chest.
“I know you’ve met Ares, but I don’t think he properly introduced himself to you the last time he was here.” Dad’s eyebrow raises, and Ares flushes pink.
He clears his throat. “Hi, Mrs. Downing, my name is Ares, and I’m in love with your daughter.” His eyes never leave mine, even with Dad’s hard stare piercing him side-on. “What else do I say?” He half-whispers at me.
Grinning at him, it’s my turn to pat his hand. “Tell her what you’ve accomplished in the last year, or what you want to accomplish in the next one.”
He takes a long drink of his apple cider before he rubs the back of his neck, his face still red. “I’ve been thinking that I’d like to start a charity, a foundation of some kind. For recovering addicts and alcoholic athletes. I think it’s an underserved space, and considering my own experiences with addiction and playing hockey... well...” He clears his throat again. “I think I could really do some good there. Even if I’m only a college rookie.”
Dad tips his cup to Ares. “That’s a noble goal, Ares. And with your resources I think you could make a real difference in the industry.”
Ares tries to hide his embarrassment behind another sip of his drink, but I see him. I always see him. My god of war with a heart of gold, my happily ever after, my strength, my love, and the man I’m going to change the world with. I can’t wait.
Epilogue
ELOISE
(One month later)
My heart is racing so hard it might burst out of my chest and run away. I don’t blame it—about fifty three percent of me wants to run away too. I don’t know what I was thinking when I came here, and now the house lights are dimming, music’s playing. And I know that any minute now, my boyfriend is going to come out onto that stage and take his clothes off.
I’ve watchedMagic Mike.I know how this goes. They often pick volunteers from the audience, and if he sees me, I’m screwed. It’s ladies night, and the place is full, packed to the rafters with excited women, hands full of ones, ready to throw them at the men set to come out and entertain us with their bodies.
When the music starts, my heart stops.
Five men take the stage, holding long, black umbrellas and wearing trench coats. Oh, sweet mother of all that’s holy, they’re going todotheMagic Mikedance. As if she can hear my thoughts, Tori squeals at the top of her lungs beside me, clapping her hands as they start to dance.
By the time Ares is wearing only a tie hanging down the middle of his chest and black pants, he’s not only spotted me, but he’s dancingonlyfor me. I felt the shift in him the moment his eyes locked onto mine, and my breath left my body.
The man really is a god, standing with his pecs shining under the spotlights, women screaming at him, throwing money on the stage at his feet. But the only person in the room he’s giving any of his attention to is me.
For his solo dance, he comes out in a plain, fitted white t-shirt, dark jeans, and his signature, back to front ball cap. I don’t know how he makes such plain clothes look so out-of-this-world sexy.
