Deuces Wild

“Deuce.” I smack his chest. “I just wanted to say thank you for everything. I know you helped with—“

His dad holds his hand up to stop me from talking. “Did she just call you Deuce?” he asks, looking to Carter, but Carter is looking down at me.

“You’re family, Mallory. Of course Dad would do anything for you,” he says, ignoring his dad’s question.

“Deuce is right,” Carter’s dad says. He gives me that same half smile Carter has.

“Only she can call me that.”

Carter’s dad’s smile turns to a full-on one.

“All right. I see what you mean about that prenup now.”

“Prenup?” How did we go from poking at Carter to talking about a prenup? Oh yeah. The daughter-in-law comment. Is that why he is here? Carter and I talked about getting married but that is forever away. So I thought. Carter holds out his hand to his dad, who hands him a small blue box.

“I didn’t even give this to your mother.”

“I know.” Carter’s face is serious now. A look is exchanged between them in understanding.

“It smells wonderful but I think I should leave you to have your night. I’m sure we’ll have many more chances for dinner.” Carter’s dad hugs me this time.

“You’re good for him,” he says in my ear before letting me go. “Welcome to the family.” He turns to head out the door, leaving Carter and me standing there.

I turn to look at Carter, my eyes flicking to the small box in his giant hand. “Prenup?”

“We don’t need one.”

“’Cause we aren’t getting married for a while?” I question. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I know I want to marry Carter, I just never thought it would be this soon, but the idea of it happening sooner rather than later fills me with excitement. I would really be his and he’d be mine.

“I’m not good at waiting when it comes to you.” He flicks open the box, falling to one knee. “I could have done this better but again, I’m not good at waiting when it comes to you.” I stare down at the beautiful antique ring. “It was my grandmother’s. She told me one day I’d give this ring to someone. I laughed. She only laughed back harder. I’m sure she is laughing down at me now.” He smiles. “Give me your hand, babe.”

I raise my shaking hand as he slips the ring onto my finger.

“You didn’t ask,” I point out.

“No, I didn’t.” He pulls me down. I fall into his lap. “You think I’d chance that?”

“You think I’d say no?” I wrap my arms around his neck as I straddle him.

“I don’t know. You can be a wild card sometimes. I never know what you’re going to say.”

“You love that about me,” I tease.

“I do,” he agrees. He leans in, brushing his mouth against mine. “Really you should be the one who’s called Deuce. Deuces Wild.”

I giggle against his mouth. “Let it go, Deuce. You’re keeping the name,” I say through my laughter.

“As long as you take my last name.” He uses his soft and sweet tone that he reserves only for me.

“Deal,” I agree, knowing it’s the best one I’ll ever make. He was a wild card that I opted to play, but in the end, we both won.

Epilogue

Carter

“Don’t forget you have the press briefing in five,” Trainer Kay reminds me after handing me a towel. Training camp has just started and we’re supposed to do some song and dance for the sports journalists, but I’m going home.

“No can do,” I reply, wiping the black from under my eyes. “The wife is trying out a new recipe and I promised I’d be home to eat it.”

“Is that your new slang for sex?” jokes the new backup.

As if I’d joke about something like that. I give him a killer look. “No. She went to a class with her mom on how to make gnocchi—you know, the potato pasta tube things—and they’re making it at home for the first time.” I don’t share that this is the third anniversary of Mallory’s mom being clean and sober. It was rough at first, but a few treatment centers later, it looks like this sobriety is going to stick.

“And you’re skipping a press briefing for that? That’s like a twenty-five G fine!”

I shrug. To this kid who just got out of college and only has a few hundred thousand from his signing bonus in his bank account, maybe it does seem like a lot, but it’s worth it to me to eat with my wife and her mom.

“Don’t argue with him, kid. He practically pays the commish’s salary with his fines. How many was it last year?” asks our all-pro center, Alonso.

“Five hundred and seventy-five,” shouts Fast from across the room. We always played well together. I lobbied hard for him to be brought in. I know he’s the missing puzzle piece for our Super Bowl dreams. We haven’t one won in the last two years, which fucking sucks. But this off season, we got stacked with talent and I have every confidence we’re going to steamroll our way to the Lombardi Trophy.