Page 65 of The Player I Can’t Pick

EPILOGUE

NICOLE

Guy climbs down the ladder, and I put a hand on his waist when his feet touch the floor. “Do you call this watching?”

“I—”

I don’t let him finish. “No way. I agreed to let you come help me set up my room because you said you were just going to sit in a chair and supervise. You climbing up and down a ladder is not supervising.”

He pulls me into his arms, but I avoid his kiss. “Oh no, you’re not going to kiss me and get your way.”

“I need a kiss,” he whispers as he kisses my neck.

I stop struggling and lean into his hold. “Guy, you’re recovering so well. I don’t want you to fall and have a setback.”

It’s been three weeks since San Antonio. The swelling around his eye is almost completely gone, and he’s been cleared to start practicing again, but that doesn’t mean he needs to be hanging decorations from my kindergarten classroom ceiling.

He nods. “Fine. I’ll sit here and watch, but if there’s any more climbing involved, we wait until one of my brothers can come help.”

I shrug. “Fine.”

He kisses my cheek before moving toward the tiny chair beside my desk.

I laugh and point between him and chair. “You’re not going to fit in that.”

He looks down at it. “You don’t have any normal-sized chairs?”

I pop my shoulders. “This is kindergarten.”

He lowers himself carefully into the chair and immediately looks ridiculous. I swear it groans under his weight. How can I resist taking a picture? I pull out my phone, and he glares at me. “Don’t even think about it, Foxx.”

I snap the picture anyway and then laugh at the results. He looks ridiculous.

My classroom is almost finished. I have name cards on the little tables, the shelves are full of books, and all my bulletin boards are done. I couldn’t have done this without Guy’s help.

In less than a week, this class will be filled with students, and I’m so excited I can’t stand it.

My phone dings in my purse, and I don’t even have to look to know what it is. I set an alarm so Guy wouldn’t be late for his conference today.

I turn off the alarm and look around my finished room. “Guy.”

He’s already looking at me. “I know. It’s time to go.” He stands up and walks toward me. “I want you to come with me.”

I tense. “Why? You can just drop me off at the house on the way.”

He laughs. “I can do that. But I’d rather you come with me.”

I grab my purse. I know that look in his eye, and I know what he’s planning to do today. We’ve been photographed together several times since San Antonio, but neither one of us has officially confirmed anything. We’ve talked about it at length, and I’m finally ready for the world to know I’m Guy Brody’s girlfriend. “Okay, let’s go.”

He wraps me up in a hug and then practically carries me to the truck. We drive to the stadium together, and he pulls into the player parking lot. He gets out and walks around to my side of the truck.

As he helps me out, I ask him, “Are you sure about this?”

He smiles widely. “Oh, I’m absolutely sure.”

I nod. “If you get up there and decide not to do it, no pressure.”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m doing it. Are you kidding me? By this afternoon, everyone is going to know you’re taken.”