Epilogue
Two and a half years later
Shit.
I’m going to be late.
How could I forget about the game? And not just any game, either, but the tie-breaking third game of the Crosstown Classic. These streets are bumper-to-bumper. Chicagoans don’t fuck around with their baseball rivalry. At this rate, it’s going to take me forty-five minutes to make what would normally be a ten-minute trip.
Fuckin’ sports.
I should have done this yesterday. Or tomorrow. I should not have done it today, of all days. This is what happens when I get excited and try to be cute. Damn it.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. 12:30. I have thirty minutes to get there, and I have multiple text messages from multiple people asking me where the fuck I am. Ugh. It feels like I’ve only moved two blocks in the last hour.
Putting my phone back in my pocket, I scan the traffic behind me, then do a quick glance up ahead. Things look clear, so I start to slowly weave Baby in between the cars. Any space I can find, I squeeze through it, at some points popping up onto the sidewalks, too. I take as many alleyway shortcuts as I can, never stopping, until I’m pulling Baby into the familiar gravel lot and parking her next to the dumpster.
I’m locking up my helmet when I hear the door to the building open. When I look up, Riggs is standing in the doorway, looking every bit as gorgeous as the day I met him. He’s so freaking hot. It’s gross how attractive I find him.
“You made it,” Riggs says with a smile, then bends down to kiss me when I’m within arm’s reach. “I was worried you were getting cold feet.”
I snort. “Can’t get cold feet now, Butch. Won’t be able to outrun these loans.”
He chuckles and shuttles me into the back room where I drop my bag.
“I’m gonna change quick, okay?” I say to him, and he nods, then disappears through the swinging door. I duck into the bathroom and switch out my ratty jeans and band tee for something a little more professional—teal pixie pants, a white silk tank, and a black blazer—but I leave my Docs on. For familiarity. As soon as the cameras are off us, I’m switching back into my jeans and t-shirt anyway. Don’t want people to get too comfortable with the buttoned-up version of me.
I run a brush through my purple ombre hair and pull it into a bun, then reapply my eyeliner and mascara. After a swipe of tinted lip balm and a few extra swipes of deodorant (because it’s hot out and also because I’m nervous-sweating like crazy), I slip through the swinging doors after Riggs.
Entering the front room, I see Ivy and Kelley first, in front of one of the display cases. They’re both dressed up and looking gorgeous, but it’s the little nugget in Ivy’s arms with the biggest green eyes you’ve ever seen that gets my attention. I rush them with a huge smile.
“Thank you so much for coming,” I cry, and pull Kelley in for a hug first. “Sorry I’m late! I forgot the stupid baseball game today and traffic was insane.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Kelley says. “You know that.”
“Stupid baseball game? Really, babe?” Riggs chides with a smile, and I roll my eyes.
“What? If you were their pitcher, obviously I would make more of an effort, but since you’re not...” I wink at him and move onto Ivy next, kissing her on the cheek and then stealing the baby.
“Hello, you adorable little monster,” I coo, then look at V. “Jesse is here?”
She smiles big and waggles her brows just as the man in question rounds the corner scrubbing at his button down with a washcloth.
“J,” I shout, elated to see him. “I thought you couldn’t get off?”
“Psh,” he says, and hooks me in a one-armed hug. “You know I run that place.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world, B.”
“Did it come out?” Ivy asks, gesturing to the wet spot on Jesse’s shirt.
“Yeah, enough.” He looks at me. “Spit up. Kid’s got some impressive reach.”
I snort, but when he moves to take the baby back, I turn away.
“Not yet,” I say with a grin. “I need to up my bonding time if I’m going to be the favorite auntie.” Ivy giggles and I stick my tongue out at her. “Where’s Jocelyn?”
“She and the kids are upstairs,” Ivy chimes in. “I showed Jude the chalkboard wall, and Riggs let them have some cupcake samples.”
“Jude is quite the food critic,” Riggs says with a wry grin. “I might be more worried about him than I am about the Trib now.”
“Yeah, try packing his lunches,” Jesse says, exasperation and humor in his tone as he shakes his head. “We gotta buy nitrate-free lunchmeat. When I was his age, I ate pizza Lunchables and Uncrustables.”
“I still eat Uncrustables,” Kelley says, and we all laugh. “The team loves it when I bring them to practice, too. Ives orders us a shit-ton from Costco now.”
Kelley and Ivy live here in Chicago. Ivy is in law school and Kelley teaches history and coaches soccer at one of the local high schools. Being in the same city, Riggs and I get up with them at least once a week, but with Jesse in med school, we don’t get to see him nearly as often. It’s nice to have all of my favorite people together.